Murder at Chipmunk Lake

by Mary Hughes

  Julian came in a few minutes later. Leaning against the door jamb, arms crossed, he watched me.

  “Julian, why aren’t you packing?” I finished a suitcase, zipped, and pushed past him, headed for the kitchen. “We have to run.”

  “Nixie, slow down.” He grabbed my arm and spun me around, into his muscular body. “You’re panting, and your heart is hammering.”

  “Because we’re sitting dicks here. Ducks.” The moratorium on swearing was taking its toll. “The law is coming for us. If they catch us they’ll lock you away where you’ll burn like a flamethrower.”

  “Sweetheart, this isn’t you. You never run from confrontation. What’s really up?”

  This wasn’t me. He knew me so well; even sometimes when I should flee from danger, I stood pat and sharpened whatever wood was handy.

  I blinked up into his beautiful blue eyes. “Brash Nixie is gone, Julian. In the woods when I went after Bruce, I thought I’d found her again. But the thing with the band, and now you… I don’t know what’s wrong. I just know I feel bad. Scared. Deadlocked. Helpless.” I whispered the last.

  He guided me to the bed and sat me down. “You said it’s because anything you do affects the band. That your decisions have a greater impact and farther reach, so of course it takes you longer to make them.”

  “Or I can’t make them at all. Yeah.”

  “But you’re not looking at it right. It’s not that much different from making decisions for yourself.”

  “But it is. I can protect me. I can’t protect the band. Not from everything.”

  “It’s not your job to protect the band from everything.”

  “But it’s my job to protect my baby!” Tears rushed to my eyes. Mein Gott. This was what was really bothering me. Fear, helplessness—for my baby. I dashed away the wet with a wrist.

  “Sweetheart.” Julian gathered me to his strong chest. “It’s okay. Let it out.”

  I gave a muffled sob. “The kid vampire is right. I have to think of the baby first. It’s right that Brash Nixie is gone. That Mom Nixie takes her place. But…but…”

  “Go on.”

  “In a couple months, Snagrat won’t be with me 24/7. What do I do then? How can even Mom Nixie protect him? And once he goes off to school…and starts driving…I don’t know if I can do this.” Sniffling, I snuck a peek at him.

  “You’re scared. I understand. I’m scared too.”

  “You are?” I reared back and looked deep into his eyes. My master vampire fought half a dozen monsters at a time. He wasn’t afraid of anything. Or so I thought.

  But there it was, behind the self-confidence, the deep abiding love for me and our baby—and with love came the possibility of loss. It made my invincible master vampire vulnerable.

  I wrapped my arms around his waist and laid my head on his chest. “We’re not running Scheiß-screaming scared from this fear, why?”

  “Because it’s better to love and be vulnerable than to not love.” He kissed the top of my head. “I feel the same about protecting you.”

  “But I’m an adult.” I snuggled deeper into his embrace. “Responsible for myself.”

  “Doesn’t make me any less fearful for your safety. Concerned for your happiness. That’s part of love.”

  “Love you too.” I sniffled a bit longer. “But last I looked, I can lift my head off the ground and scoot out of the way of oncoming feet. Our bundle of joy will be completely helpless. Completely reliant on us.”

  “We’ll protect him the best we can. But more, we’ll teach him to defend himself. That’s the best protection of all.”

  “We’ll teach him to fight?”

  “Sometimes. Sometimes running is the best response. Sweetheart, Brash Nixie isn’t incompatible with Mom Nixie. The important thing is not to be afraid. Whether you fight or run, it shouldn’t be with fear. Hesitation only makes you trip and fall.”

  “Is there such a thing as boldly running away?”

  “Certainly. It’s called escape, or retreat. Besides, think of the role model you’ll make. Do you want to teach Julian Junior to be afraid of life, or meet it head on?”

  “We’ve been over that. We’re not naming him Junior—oh.” I grabbed his ears and kissed him. “That was to distract me from being afraid. You’re tricky. I like that.” I kissed him again, a bit longer. “So we’re not running from the law?”

  He kissed me softly, slowly. Teasing me away from the brink of fear. Of worry. “Not today.”

  I slowly relaxed into the kiss. My body heated. My muscles yielded. My thoughts turned…

  “Hey you guys.” Bruce leaned on the door jamb. “Get a room.”

  I barely broke the kiss to give the vamplet my best Mother Look.

  I’d been on the receiving end of the Look for years and it was almost a pleasure when he straightened with a flushed face.

  “We already have a room. I suggest you shut the door and find your own.”

  “And a pair of earplugs,” he muttered, but he shut the door. Moments later, another door shut.

  I returned my gaze to Julian. My husband had a spectacular mouth. Bronze lips, not too full. Sleek. Built for kissing.

  Seeing my expression, which probably looked like I wanted to eat him, his eyes darkened.

  We’d come a long way since I'd thought of him as Suitguy, Defender of the Stodgy. I grabbed his hair, smashed lips to his and stuck my tongue down his throat.

  Revelation is a powerful freer. He tasted like getting drunk on expensive champagne. I ran my tongue over his lips and drank.

  His arms came around me, gently, mindful of the baby, but his groan was raw as he kissed me in return. His tongue slid between my lips, stroking my skin like wet silk. He tasted me as a man savors the last pressing of summer grapes. Suckled my lower lip like it was sweet, heavy, and ripe.

  And as he kissed, his hands, those square competent hands, were oh so busy. One slid up, under my shirt. The other stole down the back of my pants and stroked the downy hair along my tailbone. Delight rippled up my spine like a trill.

  Like our first kiss, my brain filled with images. Me lying on my back, six-feet plus of male over me, all lean muscle and hot satin skin. Blue eyes clouded with desire as he did the passion pushups.

  Only this time I knew what happened when he took off his staid, lawyerly tie, and it wasn’t tame at all.

  “You taste better each time I kiss you.” He dipped his tongue into the corner of my mouth. “Every day, every hour.”

  That tight, growly tone was my favorite.

  He palmed my breast through my bra. It was extra sensitive and all he had to do was heft it gently for the nipple to sing.

  “More.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and levered him down so I could thrust my tongue into the cavern of his mouth, rubbing my breasts into him. “Do your mist thing.”

  “My mist thing, hmm?” He quirked a half-smile at me, the light of love in his eyes—and blew apart in my hands. His clothes, without a body to hang on, collapsed. Air swirled in the ring of my arms, warm and caressing. I closed my eyes and savored.

  He reformed gradually under my hands, all sleek, smooth, naked skin. Skin that called to me, to touch, to run my palms along warm cream-coated steel. To dig into bowling-ball shoulders, pet slabs of pectorals, run down rippling mounds of taut belly, and tease the feathering of hair down to his long, veined…I opened my eyes. He was fully erect and straining for me.

  I took his cock in both hands and stroked velvet.

  He groaned. “You’re wearing too many clothes.” He peeled off my top and bra. I continued to stroke him around lifting my arms and shrugging off straps. He got distracted playing with my naked breasts, plumping them and thumbing the nipples.

  I gasped, the feel of those competent fingers zinging straight through to my sex.

  He made a noise of encouragement deep in his throat. “I love that smell. Knowing you’re getting wet for me. Knowing I’m the one doing this to you.”

  “To e
ach other.” On my next stroke, my fingers met a drop of liquid desire. My strokes glided wetly along his hard length.

  He bent and kissed the tops of my breasts, the heat of his breath making the skin shiver. Each touch of his mouth vibrated through skin and muscle and bone to my very center.

  A rumbling filled the room, the thrum of his arousal, deep and dark.

  “My jeans?” I was trembling, my voice breathy.

  “Mmm.” He licked my cleavage. “Getting there.”

  “Not fast enough.” I nipped his shoulder muscle.

  He chuffed a laugh. “Are you impatient or hungry?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right then.” He released my breasts to stand me up. As he stood his head dropped, mouth drawing one delicate nipple into his warm depths, sending shocks of desire into me.

  I leaned into his mouth. He kept suckling as he peeled off my pants and panties. Cool air brushed my sex, telling me how wet I already was. I wasn’t cold, though. His body was a furnace, his mouth on my breast plenty hot.

  He eased me onto the bed, on my side. Braced himself on his hands over me. I loved this part, when every muscle bulged with his weight, taut with the need to have me. I tucked my knees up and shifted my hips to make myself more available to him.

  His cock kissed my vulva. I smiled at him, warm and welcoming. He smiled back and slowly pushed forward, opening me. My eyelids lowered in ecstasy, a little more for each inch until the world was a dreamy, lust-covered slit.

  He shifted to one arm and slipped a hand between my thighs. Rolling my clit with his fingers, he began thrusting, slow and steady. I rocked my hips in time and moaned. His pleasured purr got so loud it seemed to rattle the windows.

  I built like a hundred-year volcano, slow, steady and inexorable. The thing about pregnancy was we couldn’t do the quick finish. I loved hard and fast but in a way this was better, because the longer we went the higher I built, until it was almost more than I could take.

  I kicked up my chin. “Bite.”

  His fangs shot from between his lips. He blinked lust-red eyes, then shook his head. “Too aroused.” He kept up the steady driving into me.

  “Fine.” I lowered my head—and twisted so the back of my shoulder was raised to him. “Bite.”

  He growled. Low, carnal. Braced his elbows on the bed.

  And stabbed me in the shoulder with just the tips of both sharp fangs.

  Lust rang through me like a gong. I gasped and arched on the bed. He barred a forearm across me, hard, like a steel band, holding me from injury. His breath billowed hot where his fangs pricked my flesh. I shivered with an orgasm so deep it was the rumble of rising magma.

  He shifted, shoved his hand savagely between my legs, and stroked me hard. The lava of climax spewed to the surface with a roar. The orgasm exploded through me, so big and full I shrieked.

  He jerked inside me and came too. He erupted with a roar, his fangs popping out, blood beading warm on my skin. He hunched forward to slap his tongue to my shoulder. It made his cock sink deeper. His hips jerked, his cock actually ballooning bigger inside me, still spilling liquid fire. His hips jerked several times, tiny thrusts that were flints striking sparks to my sex.

  Groaning, he bit my shoulder again, fangs driving my climax into the stratosphere, like lava exploding into the sky. Caught between cock and fangs and banding arms, I shuddered in place as climax steamrollered me.

  Gradually the spasms ebbed. I came to myself half on my front, Julian licking lazily along the long muscle of my back.

  “So biting didn’t hurt me or the baby,” I murmured.

  “No.” His purr still rumbled through the room, though softer now, satisfied. “As long as it’s only a prick.”

  “Good. Because the next couple of kids—”

  “The what?” He sat straight. “Nixie, let’s get this baby safely born before we…damn.” His head came up as if he heard something.

  “What?”

  “A car, approaching. Sounds like a police cruiser.”

  I swallowed hard. “We’re not running, right?”

  “I’ve changed my mind.” He got up and started tossing on clothes. “We’re going to run—but not far.”

  We hunkered down in a small hidey hole under the floor of the cabin, listening to an unhappy Parker and Olyeo search for us. The baby vamp was with us, drinking from Julian’s quart jug. Julian was actually the person who brought the jug down with us—I mean, we were innocent, but blood in the fridge rarely looks wholly sane—but the kid had yoinked it and neither of us had the heart to take it away.

  When the deputy and commissioner left, Julian misted out to make sure they were really gone. A short time later he opened the trap door. “They’re still here.”

  “What are they doing?” Bruce whispered.

  “Searching the other cabins.” Julian gestured us toward the window. The three of us crowded at the crack between blinds.

  “How’d you know about that hidey hole?” I said.

  “I told you I was here before,” Julian said. “I dug it then. It never hurts for a vampire to have a saferoom. A lesson for you, young one.”

  Bruce nodded. “Oh look. They’re leaving.”

  Sure enough, the cruiser and sedan rolled out. The deputy flipped on his siren.

  Bruce clapped hands over his ears. As the siren faded with distance, he uncovered. “Do you think they’re really gone? Maybe they left surveillance drones.”

  I was about to flip out a snarky reply, when Julian shrugged. “We’ve seen stranger things.”

  We had. I left the reply unsnarked. Instead I said, “Look, we’re the prime suspects. Those two are going to keep coming after us until we give them another one. Our only recourse is to find the real murderer ourselves.”

  “Sweetheart.” Julian took my face between his hands. “You used ‘recourse’.”

  “You’ve been a bad influence. Eh, I guess if you can whittle down your lingo, no reason I can’t tool up mine.”

  “So what do we do?” Bruce said.

  With my real fears out in the open—and having gotten laid—I attacked the Caldwell problem with a clear mind and renewed vigor. “There aren’t that many suspects. Elena’s voting for next of kin—the ex-wife.” I stuck up a thumb. “Her, bears, the trolls next door, Bessy, or a rogue v-guy.” I stuck up a finger for each.

  Bruce said, “What does Bessy have to do with—”

  “A rogue?” Julian growled. “Before, I didn’t consider it. Not enough humans in this area for one of my kind to live comfortably. But now…” He turned violet eyes to Bruce.

  Bruce smiled nervously. “Um…I’m not a rogue?”

  “I’m the judge here. And jury and executioner.”

  “I didn’t kill that man!” Bruce waved frantic palms. “I didn’t kill anyone. I stop drinking when they get woozy.”

  “But you didn’t close the wounds. That’s sloppy and potentially dangerous.”

  “Nobody taught me!”

  Julian’s eyes narrowed. “Which begs the question—who made you?”

  “I don’t know…wait. You mean the guy who killed me? I remember a little of that. Impressions. A guy in a trench coat, odd for this time of year. He wore a hat pulled low and I couldn’t really see his face. It seemed off, though. Weird.”

  “Weird how?” I asked. “Psycho weird? Mime weird?”

  “Fake weird. Like most of it was makeup, or a mask.”

  Julian and I frowned at each other. He shook his head. “For the past couple years there have been rumblings…” He shrugged it off. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is getting to the bottom of this murder. Let’s assume it wasn’t Bruce.”

  Bruce wiped a hand across his forehead. “Thank you.”

  “Those cuts were too sharp and regular to be claws, either vampire or bear. Tell me about the ex-wife and Bessy.”

  I explained what Elena said, that the ex-wife had probably been battered, and so had motive beyond any life insurance. Bruce l
ooked like he wanted to say something several times, but I wanted to get everything laid out first and stopped him. I told them my theory that Caldwell might have seen Bessy and, thinking it was me without Julian, attacked her, and she killed him in self defense.

  “And why the trolls?” Julian said.

  “Just on general principal,” I said. “They’re schmucks.”

  “They’re also closest. Let’s go sweat some answers out of them.”

  “But won’t they alibi each other?”

  He grinned. “Oh, a confession is just a bonus.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  We left Bruce safe indoors and braved the sun-dappled driveway to the trolls.

  Just across the bridge, Julian stopped, nostrils flared. “It smells like Parker.”

  “He and Olyeo drove away.”

  “I know. But still—”

  “This may be our only chance to corner the trio, v-guy style.”

  “True.” He started dodging beams of sun toward the trolls’ cabin. Pausing at their back door, he scented again, frowned and gave me a glance.

  I stuck two thumbs up.

  He smiled and shook his head, then rapped on the wood.

  The door creaked open.

  “Whaddya want?” The bald truck glared out the crack. A couple vaguely human-shaped blobs snickered in the darkened interior.

  A bad feeling crawled its way up my neck. I ignored it. We were so close to finishing this.

  Julian wedged a precautionary steel-toe into the door opening. “I want to know why you’re here. You’re not fishermen, hunters or on vacation.”

  The truck jammed a paper in Julian’s face. On top in big letters was “SPECIAL LICENSE”. “We’re law abiding citizens,” he sneered back. “That’s all you need to know.”

  My husband’s nostrils flared again—and to my surprise he took his toe out of the door. “Right. We’ll let you be for now.” He took my elbow and murmured, “Let’s go.”

  Even I heard the scrape of shoe on soil.

  “Hold it right there, Mr. Emerson.” Deputy Parker stepped out from behind the cabin.

  I was so surprised I didn’t even think of Julian voicing him at first.