So it was that part of the party where you want your friends to leave, and they want to leave, but it was too early to look at your watches.
“It's getting late,” Alonzo said, stealing another glance at his big silver watch.Thank God ! Normally that weird tic of his made me wonder if a bomb was set to go off somewhere. But this time I welcomed it. “And unlike some, I must feed before dawn. With your permission, Majesty… ?”
“Of course. Um, try not to kill your food.” I tried to say it as a joke, but it probably sounded like an order. Enough—I was too emotionally exhausted to try to explain. Let him figure it out. “Thanks for coming over.”
“The pleasure was mine.” He smiled at me, showing me how very pleased he was. “I was waiting and waiting for the phone to ring. And now, I will go back and wait some more.”
“Hmmmph.” I was 98 percent sure he was fucking with me, but he had enough slipperiness in his tone that just made it quicker to repeat, as I did, “Thanks for coming over.”
He went. I listened for Sinclair but he didn't pop out from a hidden shadow the way he usually did. Nobody was pulling up in the drive. Tina was standing unobtrusively in the short hall to the kitchen, ready to spring forward with a cup of tea. Guess she'd quit looking for Jen for the night.
I slung my coat into the mudroom closet, kicked off my boots, and made for the kitchen.
Sinclair was there, sitting with Marc and Jessica and reading Sun Tzu'sThe Art of War . His sleeves were rolled up. His feet were bare. He looked as comfy as ever.
Not that I wanted him breathing down my neck, but…
“Shouldn't you be, uh, waiting breathlessly to hear about my walk with Alonzo? Did he swear allegiance? Did he bone me at the intersection of Dale Avenue?”
“Oh.” He turned a page. “About the first, Alonzo is gradually falling under your spell.”
“My spell?”
He looked at me innocently. “Why, dear, your natural charm. No doubt you had it before you were a vampire queen; but it's all the stronger now. No one of any intelligence can resist you for long.”
See, there it was again, just like Alonzo—the 98 percent certainty that this guy was just fucking with me. I just waved a hand and let him continue.
“I only have to wait a few more days, and then he will be yours and, by association, ours. As for the latter, if you wanted to use your walk to, ah, show carnal interest, there is nothing I can do about it. And if you bit him, or allowed him to bite you—”
“Fat goddamned chance.”
“Yes, well.” He shrugged. “I was not especially worried.”
“Okay, there's got to be something between total disinterest and hanging all over me. This”—I gestured—“isn't it. But anyway, even though you seem, uh, not too worried about it, I'll tell you how the walk went.”
“The walk with the guy who's going to fall in love with you?” Marc asked.
“He'snot going to fall in love with me. Besides, I think he's—I mean, if he was going to fall in love with anybody—which he's not—look, can we stay on track, please?”
Just then I saw Marc slip Jessica something small and white—it looked like a business card—and whisper to her. I cut myself off. “What was that? Are you telling secrets? What did you tell her?Share with the class ! Are you getting sicker? You're not getting sicker, are you?”
I couldn't smellanything different about her. Of course, I didn't go out of my way to smell my girlfriends, so I didn't exactly have a baseline for comparison purposes. But still. You'd think I could tell something.
“Take a pill,” Marc said. “I'll give you one. I was giving her the business card of a guy I want her to see. He's a really good doc—my dad saw him.”
And is still alive, right ? I was embarrassed to ask. I knew Marc's dad was sick, but surely I would have heard if he'd died. Somebody would have told me, right? We share with the class!
“How's your dad?”
“He's really good.” Weirdly, Marc said this in an almost glum tone. “They got him in this new place, he likes it a lot. It's a real house, not a hospital or anything. He's one of a couple guys who lives there, and the nurse who owns the place keeps an eye on them, you know, makes sure they get their meds and see their docs, but she's not, you know, taking care of them in an obvious way. If he wants to retreat to his own space and watch a baseball game, he can. Or he can eat in the dining room if he wants company. It's a pretty good compromise.”
“That's great.” I said this with total sincerity. And it was, beyond obvious reasons: so, so great to hear good news for a change. “You should bring him by to—”
“Meet all my cool new vampire friends?” Jessica smothered a snicker as he continued. “Honey, he had a huge problem with my lifestyle when I was just gay. Now I'm gay and living with vampires.”
“Well, it's not like you're sleeping with any of us.” I shrugged.
“Hmm.” His eyes searched the hallway behind me. “So, what's Alonzo's story? Did he go home? Is he sticking around? I just thought—”
“Alonzo's not an option, Marc. Honestly.”
“Yeah, well. You never know. You know how it is. You're new in town, you don't know the good bars, you—”
“Go out and kill a waitress for the fun of it?”
“Still working through that?” Jessica asked.
“Well, no matter how we deal with it among vampires, I'm sure Marc can agree that murder is a really great reason not to date a guy, doy!”
“Oh, I dunno. That whole 'falling for the dark side' thing worked out kind of good for you,” Marc said, his gaze sliding to Sinclair for a moment.
My mind went blank. A cliché I completely understood: I could feel my brain trying to make words and not coming up with a thing. Nothing. Empty.Nada . Finally I managed, “Do as I say, not as I do. And Eric's a good guy. When he kills in cold blood, he does it for a good reason. You know, like love in his heart.”
“Ah, darling,” Sinclair said, gaze on his book.
“And I know he's cute and all,” Jessica said, “Alonzo, I mean, but I don't think hedates . You know, those types have minions and contemporaries, but I don't think there's much emotional attachment anywhere, with anyone.”
“True,” Sinclair said, still not looking up, “but do not discount Dr. Spangler's scruffy Gen-X charm.”
“No, you don't,” I said, ignoring how Marc suddenly looked pleased and puffed up a little. “I'm on to you, bud. You're not sneaking under Alonzo's radar by having one of us date him.”
Shit, when Detective Nick asked Jessica out, Sinclair practically drove her to her date. Heloooved the idea of a cop being on our little “go, vampires!” team.
“So he's headed back to the hotel?” Marc pressed.
“After a quick stop to commit felony assault,” I said glumly.
“You two are getting so chummy,” Jessica said, “I'm surprised he didn't ask you to go with him to rustle up some dinner.”
“No thanks.”
“You talked to Sophie's people lately?”
I slunk into one of the chairs. “What people? It's her, and it's Liam. And no. All's quiet from their end. They're waiting, I guess. For me. To do whatever.”
Like Alonzo. Like all of us: stuck in the same web of waiting. If I could get my hands on the guy who made the web, I'd throttle him.
“So, what?” Jessica asked. “Did Alonzo try to jump your bones?”
“Or did a slobbering horde of golden retrievers descend on you before he could make his move?” Marc piped up.
“Shut up, shut up. He didn't make any moves. He didn't do anything. He asked me some stuff and I asked him some stuff. And then we came back.”
“What 'stuff'?” Jessica asked, suspicion making her tone heavy.
Oh, whether or not I was going to put the chomp on you, nothing to worry about . “Vampire stuff,” I said, and wouldn't say more, no matter how much she bugged me. Which, by the way, was a considerable amount.
Chapter 18
It was the next night and we were back in the kitchen. Half the table (and it was a big table) was covered with liquor bottles and half-full drinking glasses. It looked like we were all going on a bender, but the truth was, Marc was trying to teach us how to make rainbows.
Jessica was having a bit of success; she'd get her rainbow halfway made and then the grenadine would sort of squiggle into the rest of it.
All my rainbows looked like mud. I was so fucking thirsty I didn't care; I drank the mistakes. The real tragedy was, I didn't feel anything close to drunk.
“Just—okay, watch me again. See? You slooooowly let it sort of dribble off the spoon. Otherwise it'll all moosh together.”
“I can get the first layer,” I said, watching Marc (who had put himself through med school tending bars) carefully build a rainbow-colored drink of grenadine, vodka, that blue stuff that looked like Windex, sweet and sour mix, and something else I didn't know the name of. I wouldn't have wanted to drink it (well, I was drinking it, but if I were still alive these concoctions would have had me on my ass) but once Marc made it, it sure looked pretty. “Then it all goes to hell.”
“Free booze and a metaphor for life, too!” Jessica watched her rainbow come apart, rushed it to her lips, and then made a face and put the glass down. “Why are we all learning how to make a drink none of us like to, um, drink?”
“I saw one of the bartenders at Scratch make one and thought it looked cool. Once I was sure one of the layers wasn't blood—”
mmmm, blood, precious blood
“—I thought it'd be fun to try. And I wasn't going to ask that vampire how to do it. She's fairly surly as a bartender, and worse when she's hostess.”
Where hadthat come from? Actually, I was starting to think about blood a lot more and more. You know those cartoons when the wolf looks at his friends and they turn into rib roasts and stuff before his eyes?
Jess and Marc were starting to lookreeeally good.
“Maybe if you were a little friendlier to the Scratch vampires,” B-positive—I mean, Marc, began, “they'd treat you—”
“Look, nobody's trying to kill me right now and that's just fine. If they don'tlike me, that's just how it goes. I got over needing people tolike me in tenth grade, when I spied the captain of the cheerleading squad on her knees in front of the offensive line of the football team under the bleachers, one day after school. I figured that wasn't the life for me.”
“Of course,” Jessica observed as she experimented with different rainbow colors, “she somehow still pulled off Miss Congeniality two years later.”
“What was your secret, Betsy?” Marc's eyes glittered with a fascination. “Did you do the defensive line instead? I hear that's where all the votes are.”
“Honey, you tell me. You probably blew more guys in high school than I did.”
He laughed. “Miss Congeniality! Seriously, that's great! Do you still have the crown and sash? I could get a date in no time if you'd lend me those props for five minutes.”
I drank another failed rainbow and ignored an empty bottle of vodka as it tumbled to the floor and rolled under the table. “Forget about it.”
“Yeah, but just think—”
“Marc, I said fucking forget it, okay? Do I have get out the hand puppets? Knock it off!”
“Jeez, Betsy, I was only kidding around.”
I resisted the urge to throw my empty glass at him. I wasn't mad at him. I wasn't mad at anybody. I was just…
Just really thirsty.
“I'm sorry,” I said, not meaning it, but that was what people said in such circumstances. “I'm a little on edge these days.”
“Sure, no problem. I had half your problems, I'd stress out, too.”
Well you don't so why don't you SHUT THE FUCK UP?
“Uh-huh,” I said brightly. The smell of all the booze was making me a little light-headed. Not to mention the smell of B-positive's aftershave. I probably shouldn't have been drinking so much on an empty stomach. Not that I could get drunk. Well, maybe I could. Eventually.
“Yeah, uh, Betsy, we've been meaning to talk to you about this.” This from myeloma. I was pretty sure I could smell it now.
“About what?”
“Your no blood-drinking thing.”
“It's not athing , it's a lifestyle. You know,” I added brightly to Marc, “like yours. I'mchoosing not to drink blood.”
Marc almost dropped the grenadine. He turned to give me his full attention when Jessica jumped in with, “Nuh-uh! Picking a fight to get out of talking about this won't work.”
“Right,” Marc said, looking less convinced. “That won't work. Bitch.”
Nuts . “Oh, come on, you guys!” I rested my forehead on the table. “I figured you'd be supportive.”
“Supportive of you breaking Sinclair's heart and making yourself nuttier than you usually are? Honey, your temper these days is almost as bad as mine.”
“Well, why don't you shut your fucking face, then?” I straightened up in a hurry as my vision cleared. “Sorry. That sort of slipped out.”
“Great,” Marc mumbled. “Vampire Tourette's syndrome.”
“And Sinclair's heart isn't broken. And even if it was, it's none of your business.”
“How's he supposed to feel when you tell him not only are you going on a hunger strike, he is, too, unless he cheats on you with other people?” Marc demanded.
“What part of 'none of your business' do you not get?”
“Ha!” Marc wiped off his lips and began refilling another glass with yet another perfect rainbow. “We have to live with you guys, you know.”
“No,” I said pointedly. “You don't.”
“What'sthat supposed to mean?” Jessica asked.
I rubbed my eyebrows. “Nothing. It's not supposed to mean anything. Sinclair's heart isn't broken.”
“He's been moping around this place like he heard yellow was the new black,” she added.
“We worked that out. We have a plan for him getting his blood.”
Marc snorted. “Yeah, I'm sure it's not awful.”
I threw my hands in the air. “So, what? What are you telling me? Start drinking again? Hurt more people? Maybe kill someone by accident if I go too far?”
“What happened between Alonzo and Sophie won't necessarily happen to you.”
“Iknooow ,” I said. I was a little astonished. One thing had nothing to do with the other. I had started my hunger strike way before Sophie even got to town. Right?
“Moderation,” Marc was babbling. “Everything in moderation. Besides, aren't you the only vampire who only has to drink once or twice a week? How are you going to kill somebody doing that?”
“I plan,” I said grimly, “on being the only vampire who doesn't have to drink at all.”
“Well, it's making you nuts,” Jessica snapped, “at the worst possible time for me. And if I find one more piece of chewing gum on the banister, I'm evicting you. I figure you've gone through twenty packs in the last two weeks alone.”
“You're counting my gum wads?” I felt my eyes narrow. I didn't make them do it; they sort of went all squinty on their own. “That doesn't strike you as, oh, I dunno, anal-retentive?”
“Doesn't your depositing them all over the house,” she snapped back, annoyingly unafraid, “strike you as incredibly selfish and slovenly?”
“For the lasht time, thish ish none of your bithneth.”
What the—? Horrified, I felt my mouth.
Marc was pointing at me, eyes big. “Your fangs are out! You got so pissed your fangs came out!”
“I thought they only came out when you smelled blood,” Jessica said, still remarkably unmoved.
“They do,” I replied, feeling. Cripes, it felt like I had a mouthful of needles. “But Sinclair can make his come out whenever he wanth. Maybe thith ith part of a new power.”
“And maybe you're, I dunno,losing it !”
“Calm down. Thereth nothing to worry
about.”
“Nothing to worry about?” Marc was as hysterical as a woman who missed all the really good Thanksgiving sales. “You should see yourself!”
“Well, maybe I'll go take a walk.” Oh, and run into that cute Mrs. Lentz in her bouncy, thin-strapped jogging bra while she walks her border collie. Normally I went for guys but her shoulders were so lovely and bare—
“You can't go out looking likethat .”
I was hurt. Well, pretending to be. “Are you thaying I thould be athamed? Thith is who I am now.”
“Yes,” Marc said, and Jessica swallowed her laugh. “You should be very, very ashamed. You should go to your room and hide your head until the shame passes. And until you don't look like you're trying out for the nextDracula remake.”
A sly thought popped into my head, there and gone, one
Eric would understand, and so would Alonzo
too slippery to hold on to. Probably just as well. These days, none of my thoughts were nice ones.
“Doeth anybody have thum gum? I'm freth out.”
“Sure,” Jessica said brightly, as if a wonderful idea had just occurred to her, “and hey, maybe this time you can stick the wads in a garbage can, if you want to avoid eviction.” She slid a brand-new pack of strawberry Bubblicious toward me.
“I'll second that motion,” Marc mumbled. “Honestly, Betsy, do you know what theyput in that stuff? The artificial gunk that slides down your throat, leaving the hard, gray crud behind?”
“Thut up,” I told him, reaching for the pack. “Thith ithn't very conthructive.”
“Yeah? Constructive is the last damned thing on my mind. This place drives me nuts sometimes: nutty vampires, a bitchy werewolf, a zombie, a grumpy billionaire, and a vampire on a hunger strike.”
“You have to admit,” Jessica said, starting to put away the liquor bottles, “there's never a dull moment. What's the polar opposite of a dull moment? 'Cuz that's what we got around here. All the time.”
“I don't think you should call Garrett a zombie. He's a little slow, but—hey! Don't take the vodka.”
“You can have it back,” she said in her annoying Mommy voice, “when your fangs go away.”
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