by Jenny Allen
There was no doubt that the cops would find the decapitated cab driver. However, she knew the crime techs that worked the normal scenes and in a city like New York, they had an enormous caseload. They weren’t what she would describe as thorough, especially not on a scene flooded with thousands of possible suspects fitting the description of a “zombie”. In fact, if they had an eye witness the case would probably land in Lilith’s que anyway, the final resting place for the strange and unusual.
“Thank you for your assistance.” Lilith leaned over the seat with the $50 emergency cash Cohen had given her and slapped it into the cab driver’s outstretched hand.
“Cheers.” The driver flashed a toothy smile that definitely could be an advertisement for the importance of dental health and slid the bill into his lockbox.
Lilith took a deep breath to steady her nerves and then resolutely opened the cab door to the quaint family home tucked into a decent postage stamp-sized lot. As soon as she closed the door, the cab sped off down the street. No turning back now.
She ran through the laundry list of alternatives and reluctantly dismissed each one. She couldn’t go home, or to Chance’s place, or her father’s because Farren and his brood knew about them. Sure, Farren may be dead, but Helton was still out there with his zombie queen, not to mention the other mystery council members. She didn’t have the book or any way to get to it now so she was useless, which was just another word for dead.
She couldn’t go to Nicci’s because the address was in her burner phone which was lying in a gutter somewhere. Besides, if Nicci wasn’t at her place, she’d have no way to get in and no one to help patch her up. She had a bullet that needed to be removed, a dislocated shoulder and an arm she needed set and stabilized, not mention she was in serious need of a shower or five.
There was no one she could call, no other place to go. She didn’t have any choice. This was the only sanctuary she had left and even that was a ridiculous stretch. If this door slammed in her face, which was a distinct possibility, then she was out of options. She could only cross one bridge at a time.
Lilith stopped in front of the door and smoothed out what was left of her t-shirt before realizing that nothing she could do would make her more presentable. Half her top was wrapped around her arm and soaked with blood. Her jeans were split at the knees and caked in dirt, blood and god knows what else. Blood was still trickling from the bullet hole in her shoulder, and pretty much every inch of her was covered with scrapes and bruises. Even her wild auburn hair was spilling out of the ponytail holder in a frizzy, blood-matted mess.
Worst of all, nothing could get rid of the acrid stench of rotting death that smothered her clothes, hair, skin, everything. She could still feel it in the back of her throat, coating it like a fresh layer of grave dirt over a rotting corpse.
Lilith bit down on all the excuses she had to not knock, gathered her strength and rapped her knuckles against the bright red door. As soon as the sound reverberated through the house, Lilith’s muscles twitched with an overwhelming urge to just run. She wasn’t ready. She couldn’t do this. There had to be somewhere else, anywhere else. Her stomach clenched in a very real fear, fear of what she’d see when that door opened.
Before she could attempt to calm her nerves, she heard the creak of the door opening and her stomach seized violently, freezing her in place. She just stood there, panting, on the verge of a full out panic attack with her eyes glued to the door.
The soft lines of the woman’s olive skin wrinkled into a confused look that stabbed at Lilith’s heart. There were a million things hidden in those warm brown eyes. Disbelief, uncertainty, shock. What if the door just shut in her face?
“Bonita? What has happened?” The middle-aged woman rushed out onto the porch and started to pull Lilith inside. There were no tones of anger or hatred in Gloria’s Spanish-flecked voice. There were no tugs of contempt at her full lips. There was only concern and her usual nurturing spirit that typically forced Lilith to eat far too many gluten-free cookies and sit through painful blind dates.
The last time she’d seen Gloria, her beautifully soft face had been contorted in rage, grief and an anger so intense it burned from her warm eyes like hellfire. Lilith had been too lost in her own guilt to do anything but take whatever Gloria threw at her, even a sharp slap to the face. She thought she’d never see this familiar look on her best friend’s face ever again.
Lilith swallowed the lump of tears in her throat as intense relief flooded her body. It was just too much. “I am so sorry about Philippe…I…I miss him, Gloria.” Her voice was strained to breaking from the sadness in her heart and the fear gripping her stomach. She hadn’t meant to blurt it out, to open up that new wound that had driven them apart. To her immense relief, Gloria just smiled softly, her hands cupping Lilith’s blood splattered face and turning it towards her. Those warm brown eyes held Lilith’s steadily with a fiercely sincere stare.
“Lily, your friend was right to say what he did. It was not your fault. You hear me, Bonita? It was not your fault. You did not drag him to Tennessee and put him in harm’s way…” The softly sympathetic smile on Gloria’s face lifted a tremendous weight from Lilith’s shoulders. It was like she could finally take in a full breath for the first time since Philippe’s funeral.
Gloria’s smile faltered, something else lurking beneath the surface, and before Lilith automatically braced herself for the worst. “That was your father’s decision.” There was more than a slight edge to Gloria’s voice. Apparently, she’d shifted her anger from Lilith to Gregor. Sadness chilled Lilith’s heart yet again as her mind stumbled over the fact that Gloria would never be able to confront him now.
Then it suddenly occurred to Lilith that the council had her father’s body. Even if she managed to survive, she’d never be able to properly put her father to rest. She would never be able to give him a true funeral. He’d rot away in whatever dark hole the demons used to dispose of inconvenient corpses.
“Bonita, Lily… You come inside, let me clean you up.” Fresh tears sprang from Lilith’s eyes as she vacantly let Gloria lead her inside the house. She couldn’t get the image of her father’s corpse rotting in the dark out of her mind.
Gloria helped Lilith into a chair and shoved a warm mug of coffee into her hand as Lilith looked around the artificially sunlit kitchen. The surroundings were so familiar, so normal. She’d spent every Sunday morning for the past 4 years sitting in this very chair with her hand wrapped around this same mug. It was like a glimpse at a past life, familiar but so very far away from her life now.
Lilith sipped unenthusiastically at her hot coffee as her eyes roamed bright kitchen. Gloria was young enough to still go out during the day, but only for short periods. More than an hour of full exposure and her skin would start getting pink, then red, eventually turning to a rash, and finally anaphylactic shock.
So here, in her kitchen, she had solid walls with lights behind artificial windows and French doors. Lilith always felt it was a cool and unique way to keep the feel of sunlight without the severe allergic reaction or an insanely high construction bill. It was one of the ways Gloria and Philippe attempted to keep things normal for their girls.
“Where are the girls?” It just occurred to her that it was a Saturday and she sure as hell didn’t want Gloria’s three daughters seeing her like this.
“Erica is at cheerleading practice.” Gloria padded back over to the table with a large first aid kit, some scissors and her own mug of hot coffee. “Sofia and Rose are at soccer practice.”
Lilith couldn’t help but chuckle about how normal that seemed. While she had been running for her life from zombie queens and demons the rest of the world was moving along like normal.
Cheerleading and soccer were not what most people would consider normal for vampires, of course, but then they were nothing like Hollywood vampires. They didn’t need to wait for a thunder storm to play baseball and they certainly didn’t sparkle like some disco ball in the sunligh
t. Although, Erica probably wouldn’t mind if she did. Much to Gloria and Philippe’s dismay, their sixteen year old daughter’s room was plastered in Team Edward.
“I don’t have to pick them up for a few hours yet, so we have time.” As soon as Gloria leaned in with the scissors, her whole face scrunched up turned away. “What is that repugnante smell??” After a deep breath, she hesitantly returned to cutting off what was left of Lilith’s t-shirt to get a good look at her bullet wound, broken arm and dislocated shoulder.
“You really do not want to know. I honestly wish I didn’t.” Lilith muttered the answer almost under her breath, but Gloria fixed her with a skeptical stare.
“As soon as you are able, you are marching right into that shower.” Gloria’s stern voice left no room for arguing, not that Lilith had any intention of fight off a shower. She nodded in agreement and Gloria hesitantly returned to cutting off the rest of Lilith’s shirt for a better look.
“Dios dulce.” Gloria whispered the words, her entire face a mask of shock as the T-shirt finally fell away. “I am no doctor, Bonita.” She sat back in her chair with a huff, staring at the obvious wounds: a dislocated shoulder, the dark bruise forming from the broken humerus, the deeply gouged nail marks down her forearm and, of course, the bullet hole in her shoulder that was still weeping blood. Basically, Lilith’s entire left arm was in extremely rough shape.
Gloria’s soft rounded face was clenched in disbelief. Her eyes roamed over the wounds, not even knowing where to start. Her teeth sunk into her lower lip, physically trying to restrain the words she really wanted to say. Finally, Gloria shook her head and tossed the scissors on the table, obviously giving up the fight. “You need to go to the lab.”
“I can’t. The people after me know about the lab in Tennessee. It’s very possible that they know about the one here too and if they don’t, I sure as hell don’t want to point it out to them. I can’t put more innocent lives in danger. I just can’t take the risk. Not now. I can walk you through it.”
Gloria’s eyes hardened in frustration, turning her fear into something easier to manage. She crossed her arms, easing into the chair, pinning Lilith with her stare again. “Who is after you? What is going on? Is it something from Tennessee? Does it have to do with Philippe?”
“Help fix me up and I’ll tell you…everything.”
“Everything?” Once Lilith nodded, Gloria’s chin dipped in agreement and she pulled herself up from the chair. She took a deep breath that pulled her up to her full five foot six frame with a false bravado that Lilith appreciated. This wasn’t going to be easy, but at least Gloria seemed determined to try. “What do I need to do?”
* * *
Two excruciatingly grueling hours, an entire bottle of searing alcohol, and a whole lot of reassuring instructions later, Lilith was finally fixed up and clean. There were a few tenuous moments where Lilith blacked out from the pain, but Gloria was a trooper. She managed to tough it out even though she looked like she was about to black out herself most of the time. Removing the bullet had been an ordeal, but the worst was definitely resetting her arm. It had taken twenty minutes just to get Gloria to work up the nerve.
Lilith let the steaming hot water run over her for what seemed like forever. She let it wash away all the stench, grime and blood but it couldn’t wash away the anguish in her head. Everything weighed down on her like lead weights, squeezing the life out of her. She had no options left. There was no way Farren and his she-devil pet had gotten away from that apartment of horrors. Although the thought of the two of them dead definitely made her heart feel a touch lighter, it didn’t outweigh the fact that another enemy now had the book. How could she possibly escape the death sentence awaiting her now that the book was gone?
Dressed in a pair of yoga pants and a fresh T-shirt from Gloria, Lilith padded barefoot into the kitchen with a towel wrapped around her unruly hair. She stopped short in the doorway as Gloria slammed a bottle of whiskey down on the table and poured herself a generous shot. Lilith just stared slack-jawed as she knocked it back and grimaced at the heat. Gloria taking shots was like seeing an albino elephant in the wild. Well, if there was ever a time to drink, this was it.
“Your father pulled you into something else, didn’t he?” Gloria’s jaw clenched as her fingers tightened painfully around the shot glass. Suddenly, Gloria twisted in her chair to look at Lilith with all the anger from the funeral suddenly roiling beneath the surface. “First, he sends you to Tennessee to take care of his problems, then he drags Philippe down there and now here you are…”
Lilith swallowed the sudden lump in her throat and slowly crossed the kitchen to sink back into her chair. How could she answer that? Ultimately, the current situation was her father’s fault, but what good would it do to condemn a dead man?
“Your father is out of line! I already lost Philippe, I can’t lose you too, bonita. The girls…” Gloria choked on thick tears, unable to continue. Lilith stared at the scuffed table top, completely lost for words. She couldn’t give Gloria a bunch of false reassurances. She had no chance of escaping the demons and no way to give them what they wanted. She was as good as dead already.
“Whatever he has dragged you into, walk away. Leave him to clean up his own messes. You don’t have to…”
She stopped in midsentence, probably because of the devastated look on Lilith’s face as she finally met Gloria’s eyes. “What did Philippe tell you about Tennessee?”
Gloria’s head tilted to the side in a brief moment of confusion. It obviously wasn’t the response she was expecting. Finally, she leaned back in her chair, her arms crossing defensively over her chest. This wasn’t a comfortable subject for her. Of course it wasn’t. She’d just buried her husband two days ago, the man she’d been with for over a century, the father of her children.
“Philippe called me from the Marriot before he went to bed. He just told me that Gregor sent you to take care of some family business and that things were more complicated than he thought. You were in danger and they were trying to bring everyone home safe…”
She hesitated then as if something occurred to her that she hadn’t thought of before, her eyes sinking to the floor as she fully processed the thought. “He knew…” Her warm eyes flew up to meet Lilith’s in a stunning revelation. “He knew things were going to get worse. I could hear it in his voice, but I didn’t really think about it. He knew Gregor had dragged him into something that he might not make it back from.”
He must have called her after Gregor’s heartfelt tell all. He knew the full story when he called his wife. He knew what they were dealing with. The thought brought tears to her eyes. Only a couple hours later he was chained up in a basement, riling up Ashcroft’s anger to give the rest of them a fighting chance before paying the ultimate price. Philippe died for her, for all of them.
Gloria’s eyes hardened again as that surge of anger returned. With a startling urgency, she shoved herself away from the table, leaping to her feet to pace the kitchen. Lilith didn’t need Cohen’s blood to feel the anxious anger emanating from her body like heat from a torch. “It was Gregor’s problem, it is Gregor’s problem.” Gloria’s eyes caught Lilith’s as she continued to pace, her finger jabbing at the air to emphasize her point. “He has to stop this. We aren’t cannon fodder for his personal war. You need to walk away before you end up like Philippe. I know he’s the only family you have left, but…”
“Gregor’s dead, Gloria.” The words just spilled out of her mouth and as soon as they did, Lilith knew it was real. No matter how many times she’d replayed it in her mind or talked about it with Chance, Cohen and Timothy, somehow, saying it here, to Gloria, made it inescapably real. “This…” Lilith gestured at her myriad of wounds. “…isn’t his fault. It’s mine.”
Gloria’s mouth opened, closed and then opened again as her anger leeched out of her face along with her color. She tried to say something, anything, but she just stumbled over a few mumbled words before finally slumping back
into her chair like a lifeless sack of bones. Her eyes were glued to the table, ashamed, as she tried to figure out just how she felt about this particular bit of news.
On the one hand, she wasn’t wrong. Gregor had dragged Alvarez down to Tennessee and ultimately to his death. He didn’t just have skeletons in his closet, he had an entire race of demons in there as well. On the other hand, Gregor had done a lot for their kind.
After all, Gregor instituted the cooperative system with the police to provide their kind with a modicum of safety. He was also the one who began negotiations with other elders to provide a unified front and to help decide the future of their race. Not to mention that Gregor, Duncan and Aaron founded the labs that kept them all alive and off the radar. Did his past really erase all the good he’d accomplished? The answer was right there in Gloria’s teary eyes.
“Gloria.” Lilith reached over, her hand tentatively grasping Gloria’s. She waited like that until Gloria finally met her eyes with a distraught look. Apparently, a large part of her still mourned Gregor’s death, even in light of his role in Philippe’s.
Lilith swallowed down her own tears and focused on what still needed to be done. “It’s okay. I…I need to call my voicemail…hopefully I’ll have some good news. Afterward, if you can help bandage me up, we can talk about all this. There is a lot to say…”
Gloria nodded, two tears splashing onto the battered table top. Without another word, Gloria rose from her chair and wandered into the living room, completely lost in her own thoughts. Gloria’s shoulders slumped as if the guilt and sorrow were physically wearing her down. For the first time that day, Lilith was immensely grateful that the side effects of Cohen’s blood had worn off. She was nearly suffocating under her own emotions without having to feel every bit of Gloria’s. All she could do was check her voicemail and pray to whatever gods were listening that there was a miracle lurking somewhere in the digital universe.