Coralie puts an intangible hand on my arm. “Tell them I will agree to share my visions with them if they release the ward early.”
“No.” I look up at her. “I can’t let you be trapped again… not after all this.”
She smiles. “They do not need to possess my remains for me to speak to them. Without it, they cannot control me, but I can visit them if I choose.”
I relay her offer.
Murmuring comes over the line for a moment.
“Fine,” says Darren in a reluctant tone. “You certainly don’t act like any vampire I’ve ever seen.”
“Umm. How many have you seen?”
“That’s beside the point.”
“Just me, huh?”
He grumbles. “Yes.”
“Well, you watch too many movies. Only a couple of us are like what you usually see there.”
“Hmm. Well. We shall agree to your—and her—terms in the hopes you are as honest as you claim.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll call you once it is done.”
“Awesome.”
My phone rings a little over an hour later, interrupting the start of my sociology reading.
Well, okay. Texts from Ashley, Michelle, and Hunter were doing that already. But, yeah… they’ll be asleep soon so I don’t regret it.
I swipe the thing to answer. “Hello?”
“Miss Wright,” says Darren. “The ward has been removed. You’re welcome. Now, please remember not to ignore our next call.”
“I won’t… unless I’m in class. Gotta turn the ringer off. Any time after nine should be okay except on Wednesday or Friday since Dr. Mercer has a habit of going late.”
“Right. Understood. We’ll call you soon.”
He hangs up.
Ugh. I flop face down over my desk. Why do I feel like I just sold my soul?
24
Custody Dispute
Coralie fidgets with anxiety as I get dressed again.
My parents and sibs are asleep, leaving the house so quiet I feel like I’m making a ton of noise even though I’m not. I throw a hoodie on over a plain T-shirt, but I need a break from jeans so I do a cute black skirt—with yoga pants since I intend to fly.
Once dressed, I ease Coralie out from under my bed and check her over for damage. She seems to be in good… okay, can’t say health. But she’s only slightly creepy. The magic preserving her body is weird. She almost looks fake, like I’m holding a life-sized doll. Not sure if it’s my vampire-ness letting me tune in on something beyond human sensing, but she feels like a genuine corpse.
Satisfied the idiots didn’t hurt her, I carry her upstairs. Her ghost follows as if walking.
“Are you sure you’re okay with going to Arthur Wolent’s place?” I ask.
Coralie nods. “Yes, I believe that remaining outside the normal order of the world by residing with a vampire would be preferable to ending up in a museum where I would be vulnerable to another lodge, or worse. While I have grown fond of this place, my presence here may attract danger to your family.” She smiles. “And I’m sure you don’t want the young ones to see my remains.”
“Well, honestly…” I hold her body out to arms’ length and look her over again. “You’re not that bad. They’ve seen worse in movies. But, St. Ives will keep trying, I’m sure. Damn, now I feel kinda guilty.”
“For what?” Coralie tilts her head.
“Feels like I’m getting rid of you and you want to stay.”
She steps through the glass onto the deck. “It does not matter where my remains are. I can visit whenever I care to now that I am free from the vault’s enchantments.”
I look back and forth between her and the body a few times. “If that’s true, then why does everyone care so much about taking your remains?”
“The mystics have ways of using it to control me, and those other vampires don’t know much about me other than some vague notion of my being able to offer predictions and warnings of future events.” She clasps her hands in front of herself. “Once they learn how hopelessly random and spontaneous it is, I’m sure they will lose interest as well.”
“Okay.” I pull the patio door open and step outside. “If Wolent ever wants you to leave, you can come back here.”
“I appreciate that. Perhaps I could remain here, though this house rather lacks suitable accommodations. Under your bed is inconvenient for you and somewhat awkward for me. Nor did I care much for being leaned against a wall in a vault like some object. My presence here is also altering the energy of this area. A few children were staring at your home this afternoon, thinking it creepy like a haunted house.”
“Are you sure that’s just not me?” I grin.
“Yes.” She offers a wan smile. “I will be comfortable and safe. Now, let us go. You have homework to finish.”
“Okay. One sec.”
I pull my phone out of my pocket and call Aurélie.
“Hello, mon cheri. I hope you are well.”
“Hi. I’m sorry to bother you out of the blue, but would you mind contacting Wolent and letting him know I’m bringing Coralie to his place?”
“Of course. And no bother.”
“Thanks. Oh, hey I think Sierra might be warming up to the idea of the painting. She’s not a big fan of frilly/girly stuff. But I’m working her up to it.”
Aurélie emits a wistful sigh. “It is all right. Do not force the poor dear to do something she is uncomfortable with. I would adore to paint the three of you, but it is not required.”
“Okay. I’ll let you know. Going to leave now for Wolent’s. Call me back if there’s a problem bringing her there tonight?”
“Why the rush? Did you not have to do some favor for the mystics?”
I explain the two guys who tried to steal her. “St. Ives lost patience.”
Aurélie clucks her tongue.
“It’s all right. They didn’t harm my family or anything.”
“Be careful. I shall speak to Arthur right away.”
“Thanks again. Talk soon.”
I hang up, stuff the phone in my pocket, and carry Coralie’s body outside. Her ghost blurs into a smear of energy that seeps into her remains—and the mummy starts giving off the creepy-as-hell sense that I’m carrying a live person who happens to be paralyzed.
Yeah, that’s not weird at all.
Considering Coralie is a little taller than me and as stiff as wood, flying with her is a bit awkward. At least she doesn’t weigh much. Can’t put her on my back since her arms are stuck at her sides, and I don’t feel like tying her on like a pack. Carrying her sideways causes too much drag, so I wind up hugging her to my chest and trying to ignore her hair whipping me in the face.
Finding my way back to North Hill isn’t too difficult. The big statue of a medieval knight in front of Wolent’s manor house is super obvious. I cruise in over the reflecting pool around the statue and land in front of the huge mansion.
The instant my sneakers touch paving, several bodies crash into me from behind. The hit is hard enough to send Coralie flying out of my grip and flings me face down on blacktop. As I stand back up, a guy and a woman grab at my arms while a third man beelines for Coralie’s body. The dude holding my left arm’s got a beard down to the middle of his chest that resembles a sugar snake from chemistry class—too damn round. The woman on my right side is dressed like she came from a corporate office.
I grab a handful of beard, her hair, and slam them together in front of me. A spritz of blood sprays from where their faces meet along with the cracking of bone. Can’t tell if it’s noses or teeth, but something’s in more pieces than nature intended it to be. “First kiss is usually painfully awkward.”
Beard staggers one way, hands clamped over his face while the woman falls on her ass, stunned.
Ignoring them both, I turn my attention to the blazer-and-T-shirt guy grabbing Coralie, but Wolent’s door man—the Moroccan Hulk—beats me to him. This dude is seriously effing huge. He’s
like two people wide and I’m barely as tall as the middle of his chest.
The big guy leads in with a hell of a right hook. His fist connects with a crunch like a coconut going under a truck tire. St. Ives’ dude rockets off headfirst, doing a spot on impression of a lawn dart in the dirt at least fifty yards away. His Jack Purcells are still on the ground next to Coralie.
“You missed the water,” says another man in a black suit behind him.
“Was trying to be nice.” The huge guy tugs at the lapels of his suit jacket.
My brain can barely wrap itself around the idea that this guy launched a man—even a skinny one—that far from one punch. Then again, he is ridiculously large, nearly inhuman. I’m too busy gawking at him to notice the fist coming for me until my jaw breaks with a loud crack that echoes inside my head. Executive Bitch apparently objected to my playing cupid.
Her punch doesn’t send me into the air like a missile, but it does knock me a few steps to the left. Yay for vampire agility. Beard zips past us both, grabs Coralie, and goes straight up. Executive Bitch leaps at me again. I grab her arm the way Glim showed me and flip her. She might be a vampire, but she still only weighs like 130. That’s why vampire fights tend to, uhh, migrate and cover a lot of ground. Massive strength, but we aren’t any heavier than mortals. However, I don’t toss her for distance, instead driving her straight into the ground to keep her from hitting me in the head and smashing my brain.
As soon as I let go of her, I leap into the air after Beard. Carrying Coralie slows him down enough that a short vertical sprint brings me close enough to get a hold of his legs. Unfortunately, he’s a stronger flier than I am and even with me trying to full reverse, he’s still inching higher.
“Get off!” yells the guy, struggling to kick at me.
“Fuhh oo!” I scream back, despite my smashed jaw. Wonder if Dad would consider that an f-bomb?
Executive Bitch drags herself back to her feet and eyes us, though she doesn’t zoom up to grab me. Probably afraid that’ll drag the whole party back to the ground. Or she’s waiting for her left shoulder to un-break. I strain, trying to fly backward, and sink my claws into his calves to make sure my grip doesn’t fail.
He screams in agony, and I don’t blame him. Vampire claws sting—a lot. Burn even. I think I’d rather eat those buffalo nuggets again than be clawed up. As horrible as that was, it passed in a few minutes. Claw wounds linger for days. An irritating high-pitched squeal comes from my jaw as the bone mends, everything sliding and grinding back into place.
“Grr!” I growl, pulling backward with all I have.
Executive Bitch shouts, “Look out!” Then screams in fright.
Boom.
Beard’s head explodes in a shower of gore. In an instant, creeping upward becomes zooming straight down. I barely have time to process the need to stop before smashing flat on the parking circle in front of the porch, Coralie’s body sandwiched between me and the headless vampire. Since I didn’t hear anything break—in me or her—I’m fairly sure I managed to slow down enough for my landing to merely hurt like a bastard.
Arthur Wolent steps down from his porch, a giant military style shotgun held sideways across his chest. He’s flashing a huge grin like he just achieved the high score at the clay pigeon range. The Moroccan juggernaut has Executive Bitch held off the ground by a fistful of her shirt, the nice suit jacket bunched up around her neck.
“Your friend mentioned you’d be coming,” says Wolent. He hands the shotgun to a smaller—normal sized—man in a black ‘Secret Service’ suit.
I shove the headless guy off me to the side. Thick, dark red blood oozes out of his neck stump. His foot-long beard and a flap of face are draped over my leg. Gah. I swat it away. That’s even more ghastly a sight than the lasagna at my old school. “Ugh. Is that guy dead?”
Wolent laughs. “Nah. Simply taking a long nap.” He gestures at Executive Bitch. “You have five seconds to grab him and get the fuck out of here.”
The big dude sets her down standing. Executive Bitch is an inch and change taller than me, but she still looks like a child next to this monster. He brushes his hand at her jacket, attempting to flatten out the wrinkles he made.
“Thank you, Aziz,” says Wolent.
I blink, snicker, cover my mouth, and… burst into laughter.
Wolent, Aziz, the other security guy, and even Executive Bitch all look at me like I’m insane.
“Thank you, Aziz,” I squeak in between laughter. “Holy crap, you have an Aziz?”
Aziz flattens his eyebrows.
“I feel as though I’ve missed an important piece of information,” says Wolent.
Executive Bitch picks up the headless guy and struggles off into the air under his weight.
“Sorry,” I rasp once I can speak again. “Line from a movie my Dad loves. This archaeologist has a kid with a mirror… light. Keeps saying ‘thank you, Aziz.’ Just struck me as funny.”
Wolent chuckles, though I can tell he’s faking it. At least I didn’t piss him off. “So, this is Coralie?” He looks the body over. “Pleasure to meet you. Come on inside.”
The Secret Service-looking guy with the shotgun scurries off somewhere. Aziz opens the doors for us on the way into the manor house and walks with us to a small, but nice bedroom deep in the back of the house on the ground floor. When Wolent indicates the bed, I set Coralie down like she’s sleeping on it.
“Excellent.” He nods once at me. “I’ll have a proper casket made and set her up somewhere quiet where she won’t be disturbed. Wherever in the house she fancies.”
Coralie appears beside the bed. “Thank you.”
“Welcome to my humble abode.” Wolent holds his arms out.
Yeah. I’m not saying a word.
“Forgive the less than pleasant reception. I hadn’t expected her to be so brazen.” Wolent glances off to the side.
Sensing imminent rage, I try to distract him by asking, “Who made up that story about decapitation killing vampires?”
“No idea.” Wolent makes a spitting gesture to the side. “Pricks. It may have originated from a legend involving a specific sword that was probably enchanted. Or, most likely, we started the rumor as misinformation.”
“Okay, that makes sense. So fire really is the only way to kill us for good? No, I don’t wanna kill anyone. Just want to know what to avoid.”
“Not only fire. Complete destruction of the remains. Sunlight, fire, strong acid, lava—well, I suppose lava is fire.” Chuckling, Wolent holds an arm out like he’s inviting a daughter in for a hug. “Come, let us talk.”
Ugh. Wonderful. How lame would I sound saying I have to finish homework? Saying ‘no’ to a Fury this old is also risky in general. And… I don’t need to finish that assignment until at least next Wednesday morning.
Good, ’cause I think I’m going to be here all damn night.
I put on a mostly genuine smile and allow him to pull me into a one-arm hug. He’s throwing off something between ‘dad vibes’ and Mafia don, so it’s not at all creepy in an old guy with young girl way. It’s creepy in a ‘say the wrong thing and I die’ way. Aurélie likes him, so maybe I’m overreacting to his whole presence.
Bleh. Suffering a night of conversation with people I don’t feel like I belong hanging out with is a mild price to pay not to have to worry about anyone raiding my house to steal a mummy. And Coralie is here, so I have at least one person I can talk to freely.
“Okay. Thanks again for protecting me, and giving Coralie a safe home.”
He walks me out into the hall, then releases his grip around my shoulders. “Think nothing of it. Can I offer you a drink perhaps?”
I rub my jaw. “Yeah. That would be great. Thanks.”
25
The Irony of Time
With Coralie safe at Arthur Wolent’s mansion, I can stop living in a perpetual state of crippling dread over what might happen to my family at any minute.
I’m merely in a state of severe worr
y.
However, since the only extra things that could happen at the moment are the mystics contacting me to cash in that favor and the outside chance St. Ives might be upset enough to seek revenge, I can breathe easy.
Or well, okay. Maybe not breathe easy, but whatever.
All I have to do now, other than homework, is wait for the mystics to call me and keep an eye open for retaliation. I’m reasonably confident that St. Ives is afraid of Aurélie enough not to mess with my family, but that doesn’t mean she won’t attack me directly. The woman’s a scientist, so with any luck, she’ll decide that the effort it would take to kill me isn’t worth it for simply not giving her Coralie’s body. It’s not like I stole anything from her, or even stopped her from stealing from Wolent again. She had no claim to the remains.
So yeah. I’ve been worrying a lot.
Though, it’s Friday night and I should be having some fun. So, instead of lying in bed staring at my ceiling, I’m presently lying in Hunter’s bed staring at his ceiling. Neither one of us bothered getting dressed after we finished making love a while ago. We both really needed this time together, but for different reasons. I’m not sure if I wore him out or if I should blame his schedule, but he passed out maybe a half hour after we finished. I don’t think I’m that boring a conversationalist. But, it’s nice to just be here with him.
He has almost no free time between school and work, and barely gets enough sleep. My problems are a bit more out there. Despite that, I do feel guilty that he’s busting his ass so hard while I’ve got plenty of free time—just not at the same time anyone else does. Hunter doesn’t want me ‘tweaking’ anything to make life easier on him because he knows it would bother me. Hell, I couldn’t even handle the guilt of pranking someone in Portland by moving a lawn statue two houses over. I also told him about the PIBs being aware of me, and I’d be lying if I didn’t say the idea they’d come after me for abusing my abilities isn’t in the back of my head.
The Phantom Oracle (Vampire Innocent Book 5) Page 22