by R. E. Carr
“I’m not ready for you to call me that,” Georgia said, hustling for the bathroom. “I’m gonna take a shower while you guzzle. Hopefully you’ll be less dramatic when you’re not hangry.”
“I really can feel him crawling around inside me, you know,” Steve said. He did pause as Georgia awkwardly pulled her shirt off while still in the bedroom. She gave him a look.
“Steve, you’ve seen me naked,” she sighed.
“Yeah, but that was before,” he replied.
Georgia shook her head at him. “Stop being weird, Steve,” she called back as she disappeared into the tiny bathroom. She did grin wickedly into the mirror as she heard Steve still muttering about his frustration.
“I’m sorry, karma,” she chided herself before taking a shower. The hot water only lasted for about ten minutes before she was forced to retreat. She also managed to turn one of the flimsy towels a bit blue. “Big tip to the cleaning lady,” she reminded herself. “Another big tip to Red for waterproof bandages.”
She scowled as she smelled her rather filthy pants and undergarments, but reluctantly yanked them back on. It was her turn to be gobsmacked as she walked into the room to see none other than Steven J. DeMarco’s lily-white ass.
“I . . . spilled,” he confessed as he pointed to a growing pile of tissues on the nightstand.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Georgia sighed as she snatched his sweatpants off the bed. “You should never blot on the comforter.”
She went into worker bee mode and took his pants to the sink. After a few rounds of cold water and blotting with the already ruined towel, she managed to get most of the stain out. It was at this moment that she realized his underwear had been stained as well so she went to work on that.
“I knew it, you were on the rag,” Georgia called back to him. “That would explain why you’ve been such a whiney bitch all day.”
Steve peeked around the door, mercifully using the particle board for modesty. “You know, you have a filthy mouth, Sweetheart,” he said, giving her a mock-stern look.
“Fucking deal with it,” she said, tossing him a towel. She then flung his wet clothes over the now-empty towel bar. Eventually the two of them settled on the bed and watched baseball for a while, with Georgia sipping water and Steve gulping blood. After the third inning, she even let him wrap an arm around her, being extra careful of her shoulder.
“This is almost nice,” he said between slurps.
“Well, I figure it’s like we’re stuck in the same fish tank now, Mr. DeMarco,” Georgia reasoned. “This is like when you squirt a little water into the bag first, so that the poor guppy doesn’t get sick when you dump her in.”
“That is a horrible analogy. That’s almost Ren-worthy,” Steve said with a bittersweet laugh. His face fell as he saw a faraway look on Georgia’s face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought him up.”
“No, keep bringing him up,” Georgia said, slowly nodding. “I’m not gonna forget about him, Steve, and I don’t want him to just disappear. He’s still alive in there.”
“He doesn’t remember you,” Steve said.
“Well, I remember him.”
“Georgia, sweetheart—”
“I’m not fighting with you tonight. We’re gonna be stuck in a car tomorrow, and I don’t want whiney Steve back.”
“Car?”
“Yeah, we’re going to Nashville, yee-haw,” Georgia replied as she tried to get lost in the baseball game without either of their teams actually playing in it. Steve managed to shut up until a commercial break. He leaned over and nuzzled her neck. She stiffened as she waited for any sort of prick. She waited a bit more.
“Nothing?” she finally asked. She fought with every ounce of her being not to snicker, as an erectile dysfunction medicine was being advertised in the background.
“This is what I deserve, I get it,” Steve moaned, slumping back and staring at his hands. “But you, you don’t deserve this at all.”
“The hell I don’t,” Georgia countered. “Arthur was right about one thing. I did leave the Pendragon family. I left Mr. Lambley without even saying goodbye. I was so wrapped up with Ren that I just ran away.”
“To be fair, I didn’t give you much choice. Remember?”
“There is always a choice. Nine times out of ten, I just make the choice to run away - well, I try to. I should have learned my lesson by now. Every time I make a break for it, something ends up a million times worse,” Georgia said.
“Yeah, now you’re Mrs. Steven J. DeMarco, a fate worse than death,” Steve said, raising his bag in a toast to her.
“Amen to that, Mr. DeMarco,” she sighed as she tapped her plastic bottle to his drink. “Just think, we’re running off to Nashville tomorrow. Imagine how things can totally get worse!”
“You’re right, I could be so inspired by the dulcet tones of the Grand Ole Opry that I get over my problem!” Steve offered.
“We could meet another elder vampire intent on killing us!” she countered.
“Oh, I know,” Steve said, an evil glint in his eye. “Arthur and my sister could totally invite us to their wedding.”
“And there won’t even be an open bar,” Georgia added in her deepest, most angst-ridden voice.
“Fate worse than death,” they said in unison, cuddling back up to watch the rest of the game. After the game came the late-night art of avoiding the news before settling into a mix of infomercials and watching reruns of Alien Abductions and Mysteries.
“I can’t believe that dude is your ex-grandson-in-law,” Georgia muttered as the guy in a ponytail and glasses swore up and down that little gray men had infiltrated bunkers in New Jersey.
“He hurt my Pipsqueak, now he rots in a hell worse than late-night cable syndication,” Steve said, his eyes darkening to black. “No one screws with a DeMarco.”
Georgia did her best to gulp down her giggle before muttering, “Phrasing is important, Steve.”
“Shouldn’t you get some sleep, Sweetheart?” he asked, fighting his own smile.
“Eh, I’m on vampire hours. I plan on sleeping in the back of the van.”
“You won’t sleep if they let the Jolly Ginger Giant drive,” Steve warned.
Not four hours later Georgia found herself ruing her plan for daylight snoozing, as Kyle took the wheel and did his best to hit every single bump and pothole on the I-40. Steve groaned in the far back, clutching his cooler with a towel over his head. It was only when the far saner hands of Nadia took the wheel that Georgia finally got a nap in. She awoke in the early evening to pain and the sounds of grumbling, growling werewolf stomachs.
“Um, I don’t think this place is open,” Georgia said, rubbing her eyes. The overgrown image of “Slick Whitman’s Biscuit Shack” wobbled as their van rolled by, finally parking next to a little black truck. A sensible sedan took up another place by a rather rusted dumpster.
While most of them surveyed the scene and quickly checked the address, Kayleigh rolled down the window and sniffed the air. One whiff sent her flying from the shotgun seat.
“I hope her tetanus shot is up to date,” Georgia muttered as she stretched and waited for her turn to slide out. She made a point to be extra careful of the bag of vampire strapped into the seat across from her.
“Are we there yet?” Steve whined, still hiding from the sun. Georgia tossed him a fresh tube of SPF50 before finally emerging.
A rather petite tank of a woman with a natural fro and a huge smile was currently enduring an onslaught of hugs, as Kayleigh, Kyle, Nadia, and Paige each took a turn. Even Maria joined in, saying something about how good it was to see this stranger again.
“Toy, we have someone for you to meet,” Nadia said, waving toward Georgia. “LaToya, meet Georgia.”
“Like the state?” Toy asked with a grin.
“Like the state,” Georgia said before shaking Toy’s hand awkwardly with her left. Toy looked over Georgia’s shoulder. “Um, are we missing some of the gang?”
&nbs
p; “I’ll catch you up,” Nadia said quickly. “In a bit. In the meantime, we could really use some good news. You said you had some help?”
“Yeah, come on inside. I need to warn you in advance - these two don’t like the sun, if you know what I mean,” Toy said softly to the werewolves.
“Wait!” Kyle said, diving back into the van. He emerged with the bag over his shoulder and a yawning Steve at his side.
“Dude, luggage can wait,” Toy said.
“This one can’t,” Kyle said with a grimace. “Yeah, we have a lot to explain.”
Georgia and Steve took up the rear of the procession. Maria turned once and eyed Steve cautiously, then quickly moved forward – keeping Paige close to her side. Georgia squeezed Steve’s arm. “It’s just taking a little time, OK?” she whispered reassuringly in his ear.
“What do you mean he’s in a bag?” Georgia could just hear Toy barking from the front. “I knew I picked the wrong week to quit drinking.”
“Like you’d ever quit,” Kayleigh quipped, as they made their way down a narrow staircase.
“Bitch,” Toy grumbled back as she finally let them into the vampire sanctum beneath a dilapidated soul food café. “Allow me to introduce you all to our new bloodsucker allies. This here is Javier blah-di-blah Azarola and this is—”
“Gail Filipovic,” Georgia gasped, stopping dead in her tracks.
“I’m sorry, do I know you?” Gail asked, staring blandly at the stunned Georgia. Her eyes narrowed, however, as she saw the vampire at Georgia’s side. She snarled and jumped to her feet. Only the reflexes of the werewolves and the vampire at her side stopped her from lunging with her claws extended at the gobsmacked Steve.
“I’m going to rip you apart!” Gail shrieked.
“Yeah, she definitely remembers Steve,” Georgia sighed, as all eyes turned to the twosome in the back. Both halves of the DeMarco couple could only smile weakly. “Um, I think we have a story to tell,” Georgia said with a rueful little laugh.
21
“You?” Gail asked incredulously. “You were the ones that used me at the start of Project Lethe?”
“I dunno what Project Lethe is,” Georgia replied, confused. Her own stare hardened as she focused on Gail. “But I know that you were the one who sold out Ren to Minerva and the Jaeger family.”
“What? Are you kidding me?” Gail asked. “I did everything in my power to save Dr. Nakano’s son. The Jaeger found out, and it was Minerva who dumped me into the sheriff’s pet mind-wiping project. She said it was to save me, but I’m starting to think she played us all.”
“Why that lying little—” Steve began to say. Gail turned to him and bared her fangs.
“Oh really, like you have room to talk. Javier told me what you did to me. Did you enjoy wiping my mind and then taking my body over and over again?” Gail asked.
Georgia punched Steve in the arm. “What did you do?” the blue-haired girl hissed. “Of all the low-life, scummy, horrible things—”
“We had one affair!” Steve protested. “One! I was pissed off because you dumped me, so I had a fling in Texas with the Serbian Sweetcheeks. I didn’t . . . Oh my god, I didn’t rape her!”
“Your taste was all over her, Jaeger escoria,” Javier growled. He started to lurch from his seat to threaten Steve even more, but Gail held him back.
“Wait, do I know you?” Steve asked. “Oh yeah, you’re that DJ I bribed to play that horrible eighties song. You’re a friend of Mina’s, right? Well, I’m sorry if I leave a rather distinctive taste, but that’s not my fault. You seemed to do well enough with my—”
“. . . Don’t say sloppy seconds,” Georgia chided, elbowing Steve in the ribs. In the meantime, all the werewolves and Maria watched this scene from the comfort of an air mattress – a bag of popcorn passing furiously between them all.
“He turned you into a vampire?” Georgia blurted out, pointing to Javier. Gail blanched.
“Eww, no,” Gail said, shaking her head. “Javier is my husband. Minerva von Fenstermacher turned me into a fucking vampire.”
The whole room fell silent. Steve had to actually force his jaw closed with his hand. Finally, Georgia leaned across the little table and dared to ask, “Minnie . . . made you a vampire?”
“Minnie?” Javier mouthed incredulously. He continued, “Have you ever said that to her face - and if so, how are you still alive?”
“Yeah, my mommy dearest wanted a freshly turned vampire who had been affected by the osculum oblivio, so she made me. She wanted one of the other Project Lethe test subjects, but he kind of had his spine snapped by a plague-infected, berserking co-worker of mine. She needed my blood to make a cure—”
“A cure for what?” Paige piped up.
Gail narrowed her eyes at the still-stunned Steve. “A cure for you, asshole,” she growled. “A cure for your ability to erase memories.”
“No,” Steve said. “Oh god, no.”
“You mean there might be a way for someone to get their memories back after being Steved?” Georgia whispered. “Could it work?”
“It didn’t really work on me,” Gail said softly. “And you thought that I betrayed Ren all this time?”
“You didn’t mention anything that whole night,” Georgia said, eyes downcast. “For whatever it’s worth, the little ruse did help Mr. Lambley. He thought he was a real hero.”
“He almost kicked the shit out of me,” Steve added.
“He did not do a good enough job.” Javier muttered. “Jaeger pendejo.”
“OK,” Gail said, pushing away from the table, a haunted look in her eyes. “I think we’ve established the fact that most of our relationships have been built upon lies and misunderstanding up to this point. Hell . . . I’m still pissed at all of you, and I don’t know if that will ever really change. However, right here, right now, we have a chance to work together against an actual evil. All of us - and I do mean all of us - in this room have been fucked over in some way by this King Arthur and his new regime, including my . . . what did you call her . . .?”
“Teutonic twat,” Javier added, eliciting a few titters from around the room.
“Yes, including the Teutonic twat that is my mother,” Gail finished. “So, what do you say? Do we suck it up and figure out a way to stop these assholes, or do we go our separate ways?”
“You are not the Gail Filipovic I met two years ago,” Georgia said, also rising to her feet.
Paige slid off the air mattress and took a step forward as well. She gave a suspicious sniff of the bloodsucker. “Toy seems to think we can all work together, and that’s good enough for me. I’m sick of doing nothing and bitching, so what can we do to save Lorcan?”
“Sí, what exactly happened to my old amigo? Does Arthur have him?” Javier finally asked.
Kyle now stepped forward and plopped a bag on the meeting table. Gail leaned in but smelled only the faintest aroma of vampire mixed in with a lot of plastic. Javier seemed to pick up more, as he paled visibly next to Gail.
“Is that . . .?” Javier asked, stunned.
“Is that a vampire in a bag?” Gail asked, horrified. “I mean, can a vampire even survive in a bag?”
“I’m not one hundred percent sure, but we do know that Merlin managed to keep Arthur in stasis for two thousand years approximately, so I’m hoping that he stays fresh in a bag until we can transfer him to a suitable host,” Kyle said. “We know some of the details from Long Beach—”
Gail pulled out her laptop and opened up her Project Zero file. “And we can use the notes stolen from Merlin,” she offered to the wide-eyed werewolf doctor.
Kyle dove into the seat formerly occupied by Georgia. He began flipping through Gail’s annotations as well. “This is really good work,” Kyle said, beaming at Gail. “You must have medical training.”
“I’m a nurse,” Gail replied. “Well, was a nurse? Javier understands all the Latin and is working on the hieroglyphs too.”
Soon all three of them became absorbe
d in the screen, while the others caught up and discussed the first and foremost thing on any werewolf’s mind – dinner. Kyle began adding notes while Javier snuggled close to translate.
“Um, we’re gonna get food,” Toy said. “Kyle, you want take out?”
Kyle nodded while Gail pointed out the protein structure noted by Merlin on page 38. “So that is the specific bond that forms the skin,” Kyle muttered.
“Exactly! Not every vampire synthesizes this structural protein to form a distinct cyst,” Gail said, her voice speeding up to match Kyle. “I think that it may have had something to do with the virus—”
“Of course, the berserker virus!” Kyle said. “It would turbo-boost everything. Grandpa must have made this protective coating to protect his soft structures when his old body transformed. . .”
Toy muttered to the other werewolves, “Anyone have the slightest clue what the brainiacs are going on about?”
Kyle rolled his eyes and explained, “Grandpa is different from other vampires and can survive in a bag.”
“Now what is this about an “old body”?” Gail and Javier both asked.
“This is gonna be a long night,” Kyle said. He turned back to the werewolves. “I’m going to need a lot of food and even more beer, ladies. Um, how about you two?”
“I’m sure I’ll find someone nearby to snack on,” Gail said, smiling just enough to show her fangs. “So, shall we get to work, Doctor?”
By midnight the pack returned with bags of BBQ and hot chicken. Each of the werewolves, sans Paige, had a six pack in front of them while the humans shared a bottle of chardonnay. Steve had the decency to return with a cooler marked ‘biohazard’. Javier sniffed it before he let Gail near it. She looked at the bag awkwardly.
“Oh, I did bring cups, sorry,” Steve said, breaking out some red plastic ones. “Um, Gail? Could I talk to you for a moment . . . alone?”
“No,” Javier said flatly. “We have work to do to save the lying bastardo who is still my amigo. You can assuage your guilt later.”
“Gail—” Steve said again.
“Later,” Javier snarled. Gail raised her finger to his lips, however.