Fangtabulous

by Lucienne Diver

  13

  Eric and Nelson were gone when we awoke at sunset, but they’d left us a note and a clue.

  Sorry we had to go suddenly, it began.

  It was thin, hurried handwriting, like that of a doctor who’d written way too many prescriptions. Eric’s handwriting, if I’d had to guess. Brent had to decipher the meaning of the note as much through telemetry as sight.

  After I woke, I just couldn’t sit around waiting to get caught. I bundled Nelson up and took him away with me. Tell Donato his neighbor’s truck can be found at the train station, and tell him I’m sorry. Oh, and I owe him a sleeping bag.

  As a parting gift, I’ve got a name for you: Rebecca Simms. JC Supplies says she was the one who sold them the coffin and remains. Happy hunting. Thanks for all you’ve done and … I’m sorry.

  Please find us if I can ever be of service and you’re not followed. Burn after reading.

  Rebecca. So she was involved in all of this.

  As for Eric and Nelson, I wondered how they planned to fund their fugitive flight. If leaving the truck at the station wasn’t merely a smokescreen and they really did take the train, it posed a bunch of risks. A regular seat would have too much exposure to the sun for Nelson. They’d probably have to spring for a sleeper, and I understood those were pricey. Maybe Eric’s machine mojo let him speak with ATMs, or maybe he’d bought one of those card-scanners thieves used in malls and such to pick a man’s pocket without ever touching it, reading and recording card numbers electronically. It didn’t sound like him, but I was starting to wonder whether I was quite the judge of character I’d always thought.

  Besides, there wasn’t anything people wouldn’t do for family. Just look at me, staying behind in somber Salem to save Bobby. He’d become my family. And Marcy, my soul sister, was still with me despite the dangers, along with her plus one.

  Speaking of whom …

  “I found it when I woke around mid-afternoon,” Brent was saying. “It’s been killing me not to follow up, but I didn’t want to leave you alone and unguarded, in case … ” There were so many ways to finish that sentence: in case the Feds find us; in case the killer cop comes to finish you off; in case … It could go on and on.

  “Ulric called,” Brent continued. “Seems that Haunts doesn’t run tours on Monday nights, or at least not until the October rush. He’s on his way over here to pick us up. Donato’s already gone out.”

  “Has there been any sign of Bobby?” I asked.

  “Not that Ulric said. Nothing on the news, either. I’m hoping all the restless spirits have wiped themselves out, at least temporarily. What they’re doing should be exhausting.”

  I chewed on a thumbnail. It was something I rarely did anymore. The manicures I’d gotten since the age of ten had been my mother’s bribe for me to kick the habit. She and Dad both had been big proponents of parenting by throwing money—or manicures—at a problem.

  Marcy slapped my hand away from my mouth with a maternal glare. I glared back until smiles started to overcome us. Until I felt guilty about smiling with Bobby in trouble.

  “Okay,” I said, refocusing. “When Ulric and I talked to Olivia at the pub, she said something about an ancient force, an object of power, being responsible for all the restless spirits. And now we find out Rebecca’s been digging up old artifacts … people, even! I think there’s a good chance she’s found a lot more than she can handle.”

  “Something she’s dug up causing the problems … ” Marcy mused. “The coffin or something else, do you think? You said Olivia mentioned JC doesn’t deal with the arcane, so maybe whatever else she found she kept for herself?”

  I thought about the pendant Rebecca wore, the one she hadn’t wanted me to see. She’d never answered me about its significance.

  I went out on a limb. “I can’t be sure until I can get a good look at it, but Rebecca wears a necklace she keeps tucked away under her clothes. Jewelry is mostly meant to be seen, you know? Hiding it away doesn’t make sense, unless—”

  The doorbell rang, and Brent, being the only one of us who didn’t look like he’d just rolled out of bed, went to answer it.

  I ran my tongue along my teeth. Peeps, let me tell you—onion, morning, and garlic breath are nothing compared to blood breath. I’d left my toothbrush back at our Danvers apartment, so I still tasted like cop and copper gone horribly wrong … like a bad penny. I’d swear my tongue had a film. Yuck.

  I met the guys, Brent and Ulric, at the top of the stairs and waved them out of my way as I made a mad dash to the main part of Donato’s house to loot it for toiletries.

  “I think I might know where Bobby’s gone,” Ulric called after me.

  That was the one statement that could stop my quest for clean. I whirled around. “What?”

  “Your apartment. I swung by there before coming to get you, and someone’s inside. Unless you left the lights on.”

  “We didn’t,” I said.

  “I didn’t think so.”

  I was torn. The bathroom and cleanliness called to me. Not just for selfish reasons—I was literally afraid that stealth would have no meaning for me in my current condition. Anyone with vamp senses could smell me before they saw me. But a minute, give or take, could be all Bobby would need to vanish into the night.

  “Two secs,” I said. “Tell Marcy the same. Tell her Code Red.”

  Ulric looked at me funny, but Brent laughed. “Will do.”

  I bolted for the bathroom, finding it easily. I finger-brushed my teeth, cringing at the overly sweet, overpowering taste of mint. I way preferred the natural pastes to the brightly colored brands that hit you over the head with their flavor, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. I splashed soap and water on my face to wash away the tracks of yesterday’s blood tears … not that I could see them in the mirror that refused to “like” me back. I grabbed a hairbrush and raced back to the others. I could brush in the car.

  We were out of time.

  Four seconds later, we were outside by the Crown Vic, its smashed trunk reminding us why.

  “And then there were four,” Brent murmured as we got in.

  Unlike last night’s escape, no one had to lap-sit to fit, and it was stupid sad. I never thought I’d object to having a seat to myself. I hoped Eric and Nelson had gotten away good on that sleeper car. I hoped they would find what they were looking for—Federal facilities to destroy. An unworthy little part of me hoped they’d draw off any pursuit with them. Not that I wanted them to get caught, of course, but if any of the Feds who might have been after us caught wind of them instead and got led astray, all the better for us.

  The Ravenswood Apartments weren’t far, and the building looked just as stark and depressingly institutional as it had when we’d left. Sure enough, when Ulric drove around the back, we could see that there was a light on in our basement unit. But whoever was there was smart enough not to move around in front of the windows. If there was any action, we couldn’t see it.

  Ulric parked at the far end of the lot, the part that was always empty because it fairly screamed “carjack me.”

  “I’ll go,” Brent announced. “If someone’s in there, all I’ll have to do is touch the handle to know.”

  “I’ll go,” I said. “That might be my boyfriend in there. I could mist in and bypass the door entirely.”

  “You’re too emotionally involved,” Marcy said. “You might not do what needs to be done.”

  “Like what?” I asked, trying not to screech or panic.

  “The very fact that you have to ask means you’re not ready to do it,” Marcy said. “Don’t worry, we’ll get him out safely. We need you on the outside to keep an eye out for the Feds, in case Brent is right and they’re already on their way to investigate. Or the police.”

  If my heart could beat, it would be pounding. I tried to take deep breaths even though they weren’t strictly necessary. Marcy was my BFF. I trusted her with my life.

  But it was Bobby’s I was worried about. She�
��d been ready to kill him herself when he caused the accident that put Brent in the hospital.

  “I still don’t see—”

  “Neither will the authorities,” Marcy cut in, anticipating me. “If someone comes, you’re the only one who can literally disappear. You can ghost inside and get word to us. There’s no way they can catch you.”

  “Why can’t Ulric play look-out? He can honk if he spots anyone snooping.”

  “And who’s going to back him up if they take him out first?”

  I didn’t like it. I was fairly sure that if I’d been thinking straight I could find a flaw in her reasoning, but that was the whole point, I guess … that I wasn’t thinking straight.

  “Fine. But if you break him—”

  “We bought him. Yeah, I get it.”

  “Here.” Brent tossed me his phone. “Marcy has hers. If you see anything, call. If we need help, we’ll do the same. We won’t be out of touch for a second.”

  I made sure the phone was set on vibrate and tucked it into my bra.

  “Stay,” I told Ulric. “If anything goes wrong, we need you as our getaway driver.”

  “Your wish is my command.”

  “Cute,” I told him.

  “About time you noticed.”

  I smiled, but I’m not sure it reached my eyes … not with Bobby running amok.

  Ulric grabbed my hand as I moved to get out of the car, and even though I had strength on my side, it held me still.

  “Hey, it’ll be okay,” he said. He gave my hand a squeeze and released it before I could even think it was any kind of come-on.

  “Thank you,” I tried to say, but I was all choked up. I got out of the car with the words still stuck in my throat.

  I knew Brent and Marcy would call the second they found anything, but even so I had to stifle the urge to contact them for a status report. Instead, I prowled away from the car—less stealthy in physical form than mist, but way better able to use my senses. In ghosty form, I could sense things pretty well—heat, noise, commotion, any atmospheric anomalies—but I couldn’t actually see per se. It was a little freaky. I much preferred to rock the bod.

  So I paced the night, all the while keeping watch on the building, my surroundings, everything. Just in case the past should come back to us in the form of Feds, fangs, or killer cops … in case the current menace should be in a playful mood … or in case anything should get past Brent and Marcy.

  All was quiet, except for one of our neighbors blasting Bon Jovi’s “It’s My Life” and jumping around her apartment like a loon, backlit by all the lights she had blazing.

  Then something thumped off to my right, and I turned instinctively to look for the source. I swung back a millisecond later, when I sensed movement coming from the opposite direction, but it was too late. The onrushing action was vampire-fast, and something hit me upside the head before I could react.

  Pain exploded my vision and dropped me where I stood. I fell to the ground, trying to control my fall, to land in a position to sweep my attacker’s legs out from under him, but he’d had the same training I’d had. He leapt back out of the way as I kicked, and I caught sight of his beloved face, twisted almost beyond all recognition.

  “Bobby!” I cried out, hoping to call him forth, that somehow the sound of my voice would penetrate through the crazy.

  But he swung again, and I could see that his weapon was some kind of metal bar with a forked end—a crowbar? No wonder my ears were ringing.

  I rolled to the side, to avoid the blow, then rolled back into it as it landed. I tried to wrap my body around the bar—to gain control or at least make him lose control. Anticipating me, he yanked it back as soon as he saw that it had missed, and it ripped through my side like … well, like a crowbar. My whole body screamed, but I tuned it out. If I could live, I could heal. First things first.

  I had to stop thinking of him as Bobby. He wasn’t. Not at that moment. I rocked back onto my shoulders and hands and flipped up to standing, a move they’d taught us in spy training.

  Bobby had a wicked-creepy grin on his face as he lifted the bloodied crowbar like a bat. “Master says bring you,” he said, showing fully-forward fangs. “Why would you fight it?”

  Master? Okay, that was new.

  I didn’t waste breath on an answer. Instead, I flew at him, hoping to get inside his arc before he could swing. I dove straight for his neck, fangs aimed at his jugular. The bar caught a glancing blow to my back. I heard something crack, but then I was in. My fangs sank deeply into his flesh and even the pain receded in the euphoric rush of his blood. It was like New Year’s and prom, the hottest dress ever, a miracle makeover, a full-fat mochachino with the calories of a skinny latte, and the rush of a first kiss all rolled into one. It was hot, tasty, decadent, amazing, and sinful. My brain shut down on the comparisons then and I just felt.

  If I’d still been fully functional, I probably would have sensed the stake coming at my back in time to avoid it—

  • • •

  I awoke to voices. Not that I indicated that I was conscious by so much as a twitch.

  “I said bring me the guy, the telemetric you told me about. Not … her.”

  Rebecca?

  We’d found out she was trafficking in dead bodies and grave goods, but kidnapping? Assault? I hadn’t pegged her for a criminal mastermind.

  “He went inside,” not-Bobby was saying. “And he had backup. She was alone. I thought we could use her as bait.” It broke my heart to hear that voice. Bobby’s, but not. A little too high and … crazy. Because, yeah, a voice could totally be crazy, and his was it.

  “You’re obsessed,” Rebecca spat. “You’d have gone after her regardless.”

  I cracked open my eyelids just a touch. I had to see where I was and start looking for escape. I didn’t know what they needed Brent for. He had to be the telemetric they were talking about.

  I still didn’t know who Bobby was when he wasn’t himself, though I was starting to get an inkling. The first time he’d acted possessed, we were inside our apartment … and despite all the rumors about the hauntings there, the place had been mysteriously quiet ever since we’d moved in. Possibly because our resident ghost had found a new home in Bobby.

  “Obsessed?” not-Bobby asked. “Maybe. Could be. Get the girl—get the girl—get the girl. It runs through my head like little spiders creepy-crawling.”

  “Ick, another obsession of yours—spiders!” Rebecca screeched. “How hard is it to get good help these days? Stupid amulet. I call for Tituba and I get Renfield. It’s like it’s defective or something.”

  Tituba? Renfield? Wait, I knew both those names. I couldn’t remember how I knew them, but I was pretty sure they didn’t go together.

  My head was pounding and with my eyes barely slit open, all I could see was stained off-white carpet and feet encased in squared-toed boots. Pointy toes were at least direct and, well, to the point. Squared-off shoes weren’t to be trusted, especially when they were coming closer and all my sensitive spots sat at their level. I closed my eyes again so that Rebecca wouldn’t see that I was awake. I wondered if she’d realized that I wasn’t breathing. I couldn’t very well have faked it while unconscious, so I had no idea whether I should start now. I decided to try to hedge my bets with slow shallow breaths, barely noticeable.

  “You’re not fooling anyone, Sleeping Beauty. Wakey-wakey.”

  When I didn’t respond right away, she hauled back one of those snub-nosed boots and swung it my way. I flinched, trying to bring my arms forward to block the kick, but they were trapped behind my back, which protested the movement rather vehemently. That was when I remembered the stake that had struck me down. I tried to strike out with my legs, and found them tied as well. I was lashed like an old-time heroine left on the train tracks. I could ghost out of the way, of course, but I wasn’t ready to go just yet. I didn’t have a plan for getting Bobby away, and even after he’d poked me with his pointy stick, I wasn’t prepared to leave him
behind. Or go without learning whatever I could about what this was all about.

  Rebecca’s boot connected with my ribs, whooshing out the air I’d pretended to breathe in. I winced and curled protectively around my stomach. Too late.

  “Bitch,” I spat. Ghosting out and knocking her on her butt was starting to look better and better.

  “Oh, honey, is that all you’ve got?” She laughed, and I could have killed her. Twice. Once for each of us, Bobby and me.

  She held her hand out to not-Bobby, and he looked at it in confusion. Impatient, she waggled her fingers. “Hand it over.”

  “The walkie-talkie?”

  “The phone, yes.”

  Bobby pulled my borrowed cell out of a pocket and dropped it into her hand like it was a hot potato. She slid it open, flipped through one of the directories, and pressed a button.

  “Sit up,” she ordered me.

  I did, but only because it was way more dignified than lying down. She watched me, but I refused to watch her back. Instead, I looked at Bobby.

  “Bobby,” I said softly. “Come back to me.”

  He looked smaller now. It was like he’d caved in on himself. His shoulders—Renfield’s shoulders, apparently—were all hunched, and he was doing his best to gnaw his fingernails right off. I hoped his fangs weren’t extended or it could get downright painful.

  But Rebecca was talking into the phone now, and I had to focus back on her to see if I could pick up both sides of the conversation.

  “I’ve got the girl. Gia or whatever her name is. If you want her, you come by yourself. Just you. If I see anyone else, she dies.” She paused to listen for a second and then asked, “Proof? Here’s your proof.”

  Rebecca reached down to hold the phone to my ear, probably the whole reason I’d been allowed to sit in the first place.

  “Don’t listen to her,” I started.

  “Are you al—” Brent began.

  Rebecca ripped the phone away from my ear.

  “So noble,” she said into the receiver. “You don’t want someone like that to die just because you wouldn’t follow instructions, do you? Good. Derby Wharf, the schooner pier. Ten o’clock.”