by A. L. Larsen
“Ted’s house.”
“What? Why?”
“Because no one would ever look for us there.”
“We can’t go there. It’ll put him in danger!” I protested.
“It’s just for an hour or two. We need to do regroup, make some plans. And given the fact that Teddy just got in the middle of that whole vampire-werewolf-angel discussion, we’re going to need to take a minute and compel him again, too.”
I shook my head. “It’s bad enough we did that to him once. I think it really messed with his mind.”
“No it didn’t. It’s perfectly harmless.”
“I don’t know about that. It seemed like it didn’t really take properly the first time, like it left him really off-kilter.”
“What do you mean?” Joey asked.
“When Ted saw Alastair downtown earlier this evening, it seemed like he was experiencing déjà vu or something. And he told me he kept having nightmares that I was in trouble. But I don’t get it. I was under the impression that compelling was pretty fool-proof.”
“It is,” Joey said. “Usually. But what it can’t do is override really strong emotions.”
“What do emotions have to do with it?”
“Let’s say hypothetically,” Joey said, pulling up to the curb down the block from Ted’s house and turning to look at me, “that ol’ Teddy is in love with you. Rewriting his memories can’t touch the underlying emotion. If he fears for the safety of the woman he loves, then that’s going to seep through, not matter what.”
“He broke up with me. He’s not in love with me,” I protested.
“Whatever. I’m just trying to find an explanation for why compelling him failed.”
It was a full fifteen minutes before the Cadillac pulled up and parked in the street in front of Ted’s house. Ted activated the garage door opener and the Impala pulled inside, the door closing behind us. Apparently Ted and Joey had had the foresight to plan ahead a bit.
We went through to the kitchen, and Ted and Carrie met us inside. I’d spent a lot of time in this house, so it was almost as familiar as my own. I pulled up a chair at the breakfast bar and Ted sat beside me while Carrie consulted with Alastair and Joey across the kitchen, scribbling something on the pad Ted’s mom used for grocery lists.
I glanced over at my ex and asked, “So, how are you?”
“Dazed. Disbelieving. Doubting my sanity. The three D’s of trying to cope, apparently.” He actually grinned a little. And then he turned to me and said, “So of that group, one’s a vampire and one’s a werewolf. But what’s the third, the one you’re dating?”
“He was part human, part angel before being turned into a vampire.”
“Damn,” Ted murmured. “I knew there had to be an explanation for him, because no one’s that good looking. But I thought the explanation was going to be boatloads of plastic surgery, not that he’s a freaky mutant vampire angel thingy.”
I pivoted my chair and watched Ted’s profile as he studied the people across the room, then asked him, “How are you so calm about this? I would have expected you to totally lose it.”
“I realize I’m not generally known for my coping skills,” he said. “And that reminds me: I’m so sorry for bailing on you when Aunt Claire got sick. I know I was a total wuss, and I’m really ashamed of myself.”
“Thanks. You actually already apologized at one point. You just don’t remember.”
“Well, that’s good at least,” Ted murmured. After a moment he said, “I can see why you’d think I’d have to be shielded from all of this. But how’d you do it? Alter my memories, I mean?”
“Vampires can compel people, make them believe what they want. I felt really bad for manipulating you like that, even though I thought I was helping you. I’m actually glad you know the truth now.”
“And you’re glad I’m not quite as big a wuss as I led you to believe.”
“I never said you were a wuss.”
“It was implied.” He was grinning again.
“You really are coping with this incredibly well.”
“I guess I’m just glad to find out there’s an explanation for the past few days. Because I seriously thought I was going crazy. Plus, that there are really vampires and werewolves and stuff – that’s pretty cool, right?” He was still grinning.
I grinned too. “If you say so.”
Alastair came up to us then and said, “Joey and I are going to go out and scout around a bit. I want to get a look at the Order, so I can learn to recognize them.”
“Is that a good idea?” I asked.
“Joey doesn’t think so. But I hate not knowing who my enemies are. If I can get a look at them, then they’re less likely to catch me unaware. We’ll be careful, obviously, that they don’t spot us.”
“Well, ok.”
Carrie came up to me and said, “I’m going to go home, before I’m missed. We all exchanged cell numbers, by the way, so I can alert you if there’s any news. And Teddy,” she added, “I’m going home as a wolf, so I can shake the scent of vampires along the way. Is it ok if I leave my clothes hidden in your backyard, and come back for them tomorrow?”
“Yeah, uh, sure. But do you really think my neighbors won’t notice a wolf running through the railroad district?” Ted asked.
“No one ever does,” she replied with a grin.
“Take care Carrie, and thanks again,” I said as she waved and left by way of the kitchen door.
Alastair reached across the breakfast bar and took my hand. “We’re probably only going to be an hour or two, tops, and then we’ll head to San Francisco. We’ve spent enough time recuperating. We need to track down the warlock that bespelled me and get this damn memory block removed, because obviously my enemies haven’t taken a holiday. We can visit Bryn while we’re there, maybe stay at his house. It’s nice and secure.”
“Sounds good,” I said.
“If you can, try to get some rest while we’re out.”
“Highly unlikely,” I said. “Please don’t do anything crazy. That means you too, Joey.”
“Like taking on five highly trained half-angel assassins? Believe me, that’s so not the plan,” Joey said. “We’re going on foot and only bringing minimal weapons so we don’t attract attention, by the way,” he added. “Which means the Impala and all it contains is staying here. Not that you’ll need it. But just FYI.”
In other words, he was leaving me with a weapons cache big enough to take over a small nation.
Allie leaned over the counter and kissed me lightly, then held my gaze as he said, “See you soon.”
“See you soon,” I agreed. And then he and Joey were out the door.
I leaned back in my chair and took a good look at my former best friend and ex-boyfriend. “You know, I’ve missed you, Teddy,” I said, folding my hands in my lap.
“You have? I thought you hated me. Did you make me forget the part where we made up and became friends?”
“I was mad at you for a long time, but I’m way past it now,” I said. “And you didn’t forget the part where we made up and became friends, because that’s happening right now.”
“Awesome. I missed you, Lulu.” He held his hand up and added, “And before you remind me that we’re only going back to being friends, it’s cool. I know you’re with Mr. Undead Universe now, and I’m not going to do anything lame like trying to get you to be my girlfriend again.”
“Well, good.”
“So,” he said with a huge smile, “I want details on the whole vampire thing. How much did Joss Whedon get right?”
“Teddy,” I said with a grin, “Joss is always right about everything.”
Chapter Three
By the time Alastair and Joey returned, Ted and I were seated in front of the television, eating popcorn and watching Nosferatu. We’d talked for over an hour before Ted finally decided he was in information overload, and needed to veg out a little.
“Dear God, what is that?” Joey wanted to kno
w, coming up behind us and staring at the screen.
“A vampire,” I grinned.
He rolled his eyes. “Oh come on. If you’re gonna watch a vampire movie, watch the modern one with the hot, sparkly guy. At least he makes us look good.”
I laughed at that, then asked, “So how was your field trip? Did you find the Order?”
“Nope,” said Alastair, sitting on the arm of the couch. “Joey caught their scent at one point and taught me what to look for. But we think they took to the air, because their scent cut out abruptly.”
“Took to the air? But they’re nephilim, not full-blooded angels. They can’t actually fly, can they?” That question came from Teddy, who now apparently deemed himself an expert on all things supernatural following his hour-long briefing.
“I’ve never seen it, but I’ve heard that nephilim can take angel form. Which would of course include wings,” Joey said, cringing as the vampire on screen went after a victim. “Ok, that’s it. I’m declaring this film culturally insensitive.”
I grinned and stood up as I said, “Get over it, Joey.”
Ted hit pause on the remote and said, “You still planning to head out of town? Because you’re welcome to crash here tonight, if you want.”
“Thank you, Ted,” Alastair said, “But if we leave now, we can make it to San Francisco before sunrise. Joey thinks we should put some distance between ourselves and the Order.”
“Not that anyone ever listens to me,” Joey grumbled.
“I’m listening to you right now! I’m agreeing that we should get on the road,” Alastair pointed out.
“Yeah, but I wanted to get on the road two hours ago, not linger around town playing sniff out the assassin,” Joey said, and the two began to bicker like brothers.
Ted walked us out to the garage and gave me a hug as he said, “Please be careful, Lulu. And text me, ok? Let me know how you’re doing.”
“I will. See you soon, Teddy.”
I was pleasantly surprised when I realized I’d slept the whole way to San Francisco, cradled in Alastair’s arms. “Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey,” Joey crooned from the front seat. “We beat the sunrise by about twenty minutes, yay us! And by us, I mean me. You know, the person who did all the driving.”
“You love driving,” I pointed out as I unfolded myself from the car and stretched. “But thank you, Joey. Not only for driving, but for getting us here in one piece.”
“Such a backhanded thank you,” he said, going around to the trunk and grabbing our bags. “But I’ll take it.”
As usual, we had to park several blocks from Bryn’s hidden house. The warlock had created an entire neighborhood out of thin air, his grand mansion concealed behind a row of nondescript Victorians that proved to be just an illusion when you walked up to them and stepped right through their walls.
When we’d been here just a few days ago, Bryn’s house had been vivid purple with white trim, ablaze in about a million Christmas lights with music spilling out the front door. It had been as vibrant and alive as the warlock himself. But now when we stepped through the barrier houses and emerged in the courtyard, it felt as if a hundred years had gone by, the cheerful Victorian decayed to the point where it looked like a haunted house. It was grey now instead of purple, sort of sagging in on itself, dark and foreboding. “Well, that’s not good,” Joey murmured.
“What happened to it?” Alastair asked as we all came to an abrupt halt and gazed up at the bleak exterior.
“Bryn seems to be having a bad day,” Joey replied.
“He has a bad day, and this happens?” I asked.
“You know this whole place is held together by magic,” Joey said. “If something’s off with Bryn and he’s not making an effort to fortify his spells, then there goes the neighborhood. Kind of literally, since this whole block could fold in on itself if he doesn’t maintain it.”
“Well damn,” I murmured as we climbed the rickety steps at the front of the mansion.
The big front door was closed, but opened for us with no resistance. Warlocks didn’t bother locking doors. They just put spells in place that let only certain people enter.
The foyer was dark and still. But then a smoke alarm went off at the back of the house and we headed in that direction, emerging into total chaos in the brightly lit kitchen. And there we found Augustine. More or less.
Augustine was Alastair’s maker, a very old, very manipulative vampire. His obsession with his creation had led him to enlist a young warlock named Jin to bespell Alastair and wipe his memories. He’d thought making Alastair forget their troubled past would give them a fresh start, but it had all pretty much blown up in his face.
Normally, Augustine was sleek and sophisticated, his ethereal beauty masking a dark interior. But at the moment he was a harried mess, balancing on his tip toes on top of a bar stool and trying to poke the wailing smoke alarm on the incredibly high ceiling with a broom handle as smoke billowed from the stove. He was barefoot and dressed in red flannel pajamas with a repeating pattern of Chihuahuas in Santa hats on them, the top and sides of his long, platinum blonde hair pulled back into a messy ponytail.
“Oh dear lord,” he murmured when he caught sight of Alastair, and quickly jumped off the chair. He usually had a very slight accent, of an origin no one could pinpoint, but just then it was significantly more pronounced. He tried to smooth out the front of his pajama top, as if that would help his appearance somehow, and blurted, “What are you doing here?”
“We were about to ask you the same thing,” Joey yelled over the wail of the alarm as he grabbed a smoking frying pan from the stove, carried it to the kitchen door and set it outside. He left the door open, fanning it back and forth a couple times, and after a minute the alarm fell silent.
“Thank God,” Augustine murmured. His accent had once again receded to the background.
“What exactly are you doing?” Joey wanted to know. The huge kitchen was completely trashed, pots and pans and food and dishes covering every available surface.
“I’m cooking. Obviously,” Augustine said. “That was supposed to be bacon. So were those,” he said, waving his hand at a bunch of shriveled black planks lining the counter.
“Why are you cooking? And why the hell are you in Bryn’s house?” Joey demanded.
“I’m here because Bryn needs my help, and I’m trying to get him to eat something. But I clearly don’t know what I’m doing.” He laced his fingers together and ran his hands over his hair, pushing messy blonde wisps back from his forehead. “It’s good you’re here, actually. Though I wish I’d known you were coming. Lu, could you help me? He might eat a BLT. If I can stop destroying the bacon. And figure out what the L and T stand for.”
“And, what? Because I’m a girl, you assume I know how to cook?” I wanted to know.
He sighed in exasperation and said, “No, I think you know how to cook because you’re a human, and you eat.”
“Ok. But I’m also a vegetarian, and have never cooked bacon in my life,” I told him.
“Man, you guys are helpless,” Joey exclaimed as he looked around and grabbed a clean frying pan. “It helps not to turn the heat as high as it’ll go, Gus,” he said to Augustine as he adjusted a burner. “And I need you to explain why you’re in Bryn’s house trying to feed him. Because last I heard, he hates your guts.”
“He still hates my guts. But I’m here, as I said, because he needs me right now. Philippe dumped him right before Christmas, and Bryn’s been in an alcohol-fueled funk ever since. He keeps refusing to eat, but I’m not giving up.” The concern in Augustine’s big blue eyes looked genuine.
“Why on earth would Philippe dump him? Those two were totally in love. Did you do something to break them up?” Joey wanted to know.
“Why do you assume everything is always my fault?” Augustine asked, hands on his hips like a petulant child.
“Because everything is always your fault,” Joey said, laying a few strips of bacon in the pan. “And do you
really not know that the L and T stand for lettuce and tomato? See if you can find some. And toast a couple slices of bread, if you think you can manage that without burning the house down.”
“I can’t, actually. I ruined the toaster,” Augustine admitted.
“How is that even possible?” Joey asked, finding a loaf of bread himself and turning on the oven.
“I tried to make a grilled cheese sandwich in it. It caught on fire. I had to toss it out in the backyard to keep from burning the house down.”
Joey rolled his eyes and put a couple slices of bread in the oven as Alastair and I took seats at the breakfast bar to get out of their way.
“Is there some reason you’re dressed like a deranged Christmas elf?” I asked.
Augustine sighed dramatically. “The pajamas are Bryn’s, of course. I’ve been here for three days. I wasn’t going to go home for any of my things and leave him unattended.”
“So, did Bryn actually call you when Philippe left?” I asked Augustine.
“Yes.”
“Why would he do that?”
“To cuss me out,” he said.
“Because the breakup was somehow your fault?” Joey asked.
“Not…directly,” Augustine said. He produced a big head of lettuce from the fridge and said, “What should I do with this?”
“I have a suggestion,” Joey muttered, turning the bacon over in the skillet.
“Tear off a few leaves and wash them, then shake them out and set them to dry. Do you really not know that?” I asked Augustine.
He looked at me levelly. “Do you know how many centuries it’s been since I’ve had a reason to be around food? And even then, I had people to cook for me, I didn’t do it myself.” I raised an eyebrow at him and he went and did as I said.
I glanced at Alastair. He’d remained silent since we got here, his eyes never leaving Augustine. And after initially staring at Alastair in horror, it seemed Augustine was now doing the opposite, trying to avoid looking at his progeny at all costs. He was concentrating on slicing a tomato at the moment, using a ceramic plate as a cutting board and pretty much totally botching the job.