by Nina Bruhns
“Hello in there. Is anyone home? Aren’t you listening? I give in already. He’s yours. I don’t want him. Besides, he’s not my type.” Giselle shouted the words.
“Of course he is,” Marissa scoffed.
“No. He’s not!” Giselle waved her arms as if signaling a ship for emphasis. “I like my men to be alive.”
“I can pretend to breathe and have a heartbeat,” Lester interjected. “I pass very well for alive when I want to.”
“Arrrrr,” Giselle yelled in frustration. “Just shush it!”
Marissa rounded on her again. “You are a liar, a seductress. I know you want my Lester. But it will not work. You will see. I will get him back, no matter what I have to do.”
Great.
Marissa grabbed Lester by the ruffles and planted a passionate kiss on his lips. Some pinkness gradually crept into his cheeks. Marissa released him and rushed from the room, slamming the door behind her. Lester looked after her longingly.
“Tell me what’s going on here,” Giselle said in a low, angry voice. “I’m just about out of patience with you.”
The Vampire Lester blinked to attention. “I don’t know what you mean, my darling,” The smarmy tone and smile had returned. “Let us forget all this unpleasantness.” He floated to Giselle’s side. “Let me have Ren and Field serve our dinner.”
Lester clutched at Giselle’s wrists, trying to pull her toward him. His mouth opened wider. Wider. Oh, not this again. Giselle turned, breaking his hold and locking his forearm in her hands. She brought his arm behind his back and then forced it up toward his shoulder blades just as she’d been taught in self-defense class.
“Owwww. You’re breaking my arm,” Lester whined.
“Spill it. What’s going on?”
“I have fallen in, uh, love and want you to be my, uh, queen.” He seemed too gulp down the last word.
“Yeah, sure. And I have some lovely waterfront property I’d like to sell you, real cheap, in Florida.” Giselle let up on the pressure but kept his arm locked in place behind his back.
“Why would I want to buy waterfront property in Florida? I cannot sit on the beach. I cannot tan. I would burst into flame in the sunlight,” Lester said seriously.
He really did have no sense of humor at all.
“Never mind that. Just tell me why this pretense.” Giselle pushed him away from her.
He turned, cradling his arm to him like a baby. Lester slumped down into a nearby armchair. “Why do you not believe me?” He peered up at her weakly.
Giselle glared.
“Oh, all right,” he said after a few seconds. “I did it because I thought I could convince you to use your position at the magazine to write an article about the tragedy and to publicize my VICTIM organization.”
“What? That’s ridiculous. Why would you think that this charade would accomplish any such thing? It’s absurd.”
“No. No, it’s not. If you become a vampire, you would naturally be more amenable to our cause. And if you were my queen, then you would have to help me and my people.” Lester had warmed to the subject.
“Well, that makes some sense. Not much, mind you, but some. But let’s be crystal clear. I do not want you. And I do not want to be a vampire.”
Lester’s head bent with shame at her words.
“And furthermore, how could you do this to Marissa. She seems to genuinely care about you. She’s completely coo-coo, of course, but she does seem sincere. Making me your queen would obviously hurt her feelings.”
Lester mumbled something.
“What? I didn’t understand that,” Giselle said.
“I wasn’t going to go through with it. I would have broken up with you after the article was published.”
Giselle could feel her hackles rising. Whatever the heck hackles were. “Oh, so you planned to bite, bam, thank you, ma’am. That’s very nice.”
“I’m sorry,” Lester squeaked.
“You certainly are. You’re one sorry bloodsucker. Bringing me here under false pretenses.” A thought occurred. “Hey! Is that why you sent Ren and Field to abduct me?”
Lester shook his head. “I told them to bring you to me. They misinterpreted my instructions.” At Giselle’s expression, Lester hurried to continue. “Do not worry,” he assured, “they have been chastised most vigorously for their mistake.”
“Chastised? Vigorously? I could have been killed. Wait a minute. How about those attempts on my life?”
“Oh, no,” he jumped to his feet. “If someone has tried to kill you, it was not I.”
Giselle glared at him with one eyebrow arched.
“Why would I want you dead?” The words tumbled out. “I want you alive to promote the VICTIM cause in your magazine.”
That was true.
“What about Kopeleski?” Might as well try to get as much information as she could while he was guiltily spilling his guts.
Lester looked shaken. “My accountant? What does he have to do with any of this?”
“That’s what I’d like to know.” Silence. “Lester, this was all so needless. You don’t need to butter me up to write an article. I already told you that I would talk to my editor about a story on your tragedy, after I finish the ghost hunt article this weekend.”
“But VICTIM cannot wait!” His chest puffed with a proud air. “Every fifty seconds a vampire in America suffers discrimination―”
Giselle held up her hand to stop his words. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I heard your recording. And I’d like to find out the source of that statistic, by the way. But not right now. At this point, I’m less than twenty-four hours from being fired. I can’t help VICTIM unless I finish the ghost article. Comprendez?”
Lester looked confused but said, “Ah, yes.”
Giselle gaped at him, disgusted. “Oh, never mind. I’ve got to go.” On her way out, Giselle stopped in the doorway and looked back at Lester, silent and sallow in the flickering candlelight. A desolate, sad sack with only his fake fangs for company. However, he no longer elicited feelings of sympathy in her.
She didn’t see either Ren or Field, whichever was which, on her way out. But when Giselle emerged from the castle, she also didn’t see someone else. She didn’t see Ry. His Jeep sat parked just where it had been when she’d gone inside, but he wasn’t in the driver’s seat or the passenger seat or anywhere else.
She did the only thing she could think of to find Ry. She called his cell phone. Ring. Ring. Ring. Voicemail.
What had Madam Divinity said earlier about Ry being in danger? Why hadn’t Giselle paid more attention? Probably because she didn’t think Madam had all that much psychic ability. In fact, she’d shown none at all. And Madam had been trying to come between Giselle and Ry when Madam gave her prediction. Okay, Giselle had to admit that she had also been severely mortified by the thong thing at the time. But her lack of attention to the danger warning had primarily been the result of Madam’s lack of credentials.
Giselle walked up the sidewalk and then down. No Ry in either direction.
This was all her fault. She’d done this to Ry. It was Giselle who had brought him here. In fact, if she hadn’t come to Savannah, Ry would be safely sitting at his desk, reading a car magazine right now.
She felt herself getting hysterical as she continued to search the neighborhood on foot. Then another thought occurred. This really was Ry’s fault. Why hadn’t he paid attention to his mother’s warning? He knew better than she whether his mother was psychic. Also, he was a professional. He shouldn’t be letting himself get disappeared. The fact that it was Ry’s fault didn’t bring Giselle much comfort.
Giselle tried Ry’s cell phone again. Ring. Ring. Ring. No answer. Although. Wait. She heard a faint ringing, but not through the phone she held to her ear. It rang in the distance. Damn. The ringing stopped. Voicemail again. Giselle tried Ry’s cell again. Once more, she heard ringing in the distance. She moved toward the sound. Dammit. The ringing stopped. Voicemail again. She redialed. Ring. Ring.
It sounded closer now. In fact, it seemed to be coming from the lane behind Lester’s house.
Where could Ry be? She didn’t see him in the lane. Ring. Ring. The sound came from next to her now. She found the source lying near a garage behind the castle. A shrub, growing out of the asphalt, rang. Ry’s cell phone. Next to the phone lay Ry’s car keys.
It was Sunday at 9:20 p.m. She might have a ghost, but now Giselle had no Ry.
A Girl, a Guy and a Ghost: Chapter Fifteen
As she stood staring at Ry’s cell phone and car keys in one hand, Giselle’s cell phone chimed musically in the other.
“Hello?” She hoped it was Ry even though she had his cell. It wasn’t him. Instead she heard the voice of the owner of the antique store where Giselle had placed the ghost hunting equipment. It took Giselle a moment to understand what the woman said.
“And so our alarm company called the police since the motion detector went off near the front door as well as in the store interior.”
Giselle couldn’t speak. Why did the woman bother her with this? Ry was missing. Where could he be? He wouldn’t have left her or his car voluntarily. Something had happened to him. The thought caused more pain in her than it should have. Almost as if she couldn’t survive losing him. She pushed the thought away. She didn’t have time to think those thoughts now. She had to find Ry.
“Anyway, there was nothing stolen. But the police want to see if someone broke in anyway. I thought you might want to come and get your tape before the police confiscate it for evidence or something.”
The dilemma struck Giselle. She could have proof of the ghost or find Ry. There was no real choice to make.
Just when she would have spoken, the garage door beside her began to creep up with the machine whine of an automatic opener. The door shuddered to a stop and a huge car peeled away from Giselle and down the lane to the street beyond. She recognized that land boat. It was the same one she’d last seen moving away as she’d tumbled from its trunk.
She didn’t have time to get a license plate number this time either. What she did get was an impression of two hulking figures in the driver and passenger seats. Was Ry now an occupant of the trunk?
“I can’t come now,” Giselle shouted into the phone, and disconnected the call.
She punched 9-1-1 into the cell but received no help from the police. The officer she spoke with said that there was nothing they could do until Ry had been missing for at least twenty-four hours. Giselle then told him frankly what she thought of that policy. She probably, no definitely, used some bad words. So much so that her mother would have washed her mouth out with soap. In reply, the officer had stated the opinion that her boyfriend had probably disappeared deliberately to avoid Giselle, and he called her a name that began with b and ended with ch and didn’t have to do with the sand on a waterfront. Great. She’d alienated the Savannah police department. Good job, Giselle.
With no answer at Lester’s door, Giselle had only one choice. It was a disgusting, revolting, nauseating choice, but for Ry she would do anything.
Swallow.
Even go see Madam Divinity.
* * *
It took an hour and a half to drive to Madam Divinity’s house. Okay, it really took only five minutes. It just seemed like an hour and a half. Every second had been excruciating. Fear for Ry threatened to overwhelm Giselle. Motion pictures of every conceivable torture Ry could be experiencing constantly played in the theater of her head. But she preferred pictures of torture to pictures of Ry dead, so she let them keep playing.
When she reached Madam’s door, Giselle’s pounded. What would she do if Madam wasn’t at home? Giselle kept knocking. Madam had to be there. She switched from fist on door method to clanging the gargoyle knocker.
After an eternity, actual time less than three minutes, the door opened. Madam stood in the entryway. Her white hair streamed down around her face and fell almost to her waist. She wore a long, green kimono-style robe with a dragon print. Madam looked quite beautiful, although Giselle would never admit to anyone that she thought so.
“You. What are you doing here?” Madam shouted. “No.” She held up her hand, stopping Giselle’s answer. “I don’t care why you came. Just go.” Madam began closing the door.
Startled, Giselle managed to get a foot and one shoulder past the doorframe a split second before the door shut. She pushed against the door to open it, as Madam shoved with the door to close it.
Madam seemed to be winning the tug of war, and the door pinched Giselle’s foot and arm.
“Owww. Madam, you’re crushing me,” Giselle ground out.
“There’s a solution to that problem,” Madam replied through gritted teeth as she pushed the door. “Just get out.”
“I can’t,” Giselle gasped. “I have to talk to you.” She set her entire weight against the door.
Madam apparently decided that a driving rather than constant pressure might make Giselle back up.
“Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Stop it!” Giselle said
“Go. Away. You. Horrible. Girl.”
“I. Can’t. Go. Ry needs you.”
At Ry’s name, Madam released pressure on the door. Giselle, who hadn’t let up on her own weight in the opposite direction, tumbled through to the hallway and landed, splat, facedown on Madam’s parquet floor. Oh, well. At least she was inside.
“What did you say about Ry? Where is he? What’s happened to him? My poor little boy. I knew you would hurt him. You awful girl.”
“I’m not terribly fond of you either.” As she sat on the floor, Giselle’s rubbed the bruise forming on the hip she’d landed on. “But could we save the mutual insults for another time? Ry has disappeared, and I think he’s been kidnapped or man-napped...whatever. He’s been abducted. Well, probably. I didn’t see him taken with my own eyes. But you had that vision of him in danger. Although I don’t actually believe in your psychicness, it did contribute to my thinking he was abducted. And also, he’s gone and his cell phone and car keys aren’t. Also, those Renfield guys drove away in that big land boat. The one I was trunked in. But the police don’t care. They think Ry ran away from me. The officer said some very insulting things. But Ry wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t just leave his car like that. Plus, Ry wouldn’t want to run away from me. We were going to go do something kinky later.”
Omigod what had she just babbled?
“Ahhhh!” Madam shrieked.
Giselle rose to her feet. “Ry’s disappeared and I think the Vampire Lester’s goons took him. Since you know Kopeleski and Kopeleski knows Lester, I thought you could help me talk to Kopeleski. Then Kopeleski can talk to Lester and we can find his goons before they do something dire to Ry.”
“Ahhhh!” Madam shrieked again.
“Hey. Now what? I’ll accept the first scream. The first scream was justified. But that last statement was coherent and not at all insulting. Plus, it’s logical. Kopeleski definitely knows something about Lester and this VICTIM organization he’s running. And Kopeleski definitely won’t talk to me. You’re at least on speaking terms with him, aren’t you?”
The sound of running feet could be heard on the floorboards of the second floor of the house over Giselle’s head. Then the feet hit the staircase and barreled down the stair treads into the hall.
Giselle looked over and saw bare feet at the bottom of the staircase. Her gaze traveled up the feet to bare legs and then upward to bare everything. Ewww. Kopeleski in all his glory.
His gray hair fanned out around his head in the usual wild, electric shock, style he favored. “Snookyookums. Are you all right?”
And what was this? Madam Divinity a "snookyookums?"
“Yes. You are on at least speaking terms with Kopeleski all right.” Giselle looked from Kopeleski to Madam. She didn’t want to think too hard about what kind of terms Madam and Kopeleski were on. In fact, whatever they were on, Giselle was definitely not going to think about it at all. Yuck.
A heavy red flush crept into Madam’s
cheeks. Ooooh. Good. At least Madam had a chance to take her turn on the mortification carousel. Things would be just perfect if only Ry were here. Under the circumstances, Giselle couldn’t even take the time to enjoy gloating. Dammit.
* * *
“You’re right, snooky. If your little boy is missing it is undoubtedly this fake ghost hunter’s fault.” Kopeleski glowered at Giselle. “I would ordinarily cast a spell to turn this phony into something vile like a slug, but I’ll refrain from doing so until we find your boy.”
Madam had reluctantly invited Giselle into the parlor. Giselle sat primly on the edge of a Victorian-style high-back armchair, taking the verbal abuse. Madam and her wizard sat, not so primly positioned, on a settee with a similar style and fabric. Kopeleski, sans decent attire, was cross-legged next to Madam. As if that didn’t cause Giselle enough nausea, Kopeleski continuously twirled a strand of Madam’s long hair between two of his fingers.
“I don’t think we should degenerate into a discussion of the degrees of fakeness in this room, because I happen to think I would be on the lower end of the scale,” Giselle retorted.
Kopeleski and Madam both bristled. Kopeleski spoke first. “Now listen here—”
“No. You listen, Mr. "I-saw-you-arrive-with-my-third-eye" Wizard. I know you really found out about me from the Vampire Lester.”
He had the grace to look uncomfortable as he shifted on the settee. Yuck. Giselle found herself playing the game of look everywhere in the room but at the naked wizard. It didn’t work.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, put on some clothing, would you please?”
“What prudes you young people are. You should appreciate that one is in better touch with the elements when unclothed.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. So you said. But I would appreciate it if you would refrain from touching any elements while I’m here. Just put something on.”
“How dare you,” Kopeleski huffed, only to be interrupted by Madam.
“Why don’t you cover up, darling?” Madam offered him an afghan from the back of the settee. It was loosely crocheted but it was better than nothing.