by R. E. Carr
“I buried my son just a few months ago,” Steve said softly. “I was stupid and thought karma had enough fun with me, but no. No, I didn’t even have time . . . I just didn’t have time, Pip.”
Paige closed her eyes and listened to the whooshing sound that replaced his heartbeat. Tears landed on her forehead. She sniffled back a few of her own. “I don’t know what to say or do anymore,” Steve whispered. “There is a part of me that just wants to let the monster go. I want to hunt down everyone responsible and show them that I am not a joke. I want to let the killer out and never shove it back inside, and then you and your friends can hunt me down and put me out of my misery. Just let me have enough of a head start—”
“Stop talking like that,” Paige growled. “Do you really think Georgia would want you causing a bloodbath in her honor? Really?”
“Well, I hate to break it to you, but she’s dead, so I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want anything. I should just—”
“We are still alive, Steve. I know it’s selfish, but can I not add killing my great-grandfather to my to-do list?”
Steve sniffed back his tears. “Now that sounds like something Georgia would say. Damn it . . . I wasn’t going to cry, and here I am, blubbering. Some remorseless bloodsucking bastard I am.”
“You want me to sneak back out there and get more booze? If need be, I’m sure we have enough to flatten a vampire lying around somewhere,” Paige offered as she squeezed him even tighter. She felt him shake his head. After another long moment of hugging, he finally pulled away and wiped his eyes.
“I’m gonna get this over with. I’m rubbish at being a vampire, so I might as well indulge in a little . . . human ritual. Come on, Pip.”
“Just give me a second. I need to breathe a little and calm down before I face a crowd.”
Steve nodded and slowly wandered to the door. Both took deep breaths. “You know, you went all feral when Gail just bumped into the poor guy. Have you two—?”
Paige rolled her eyes. “I need to calm down, Grandpa.”
“I know I’m the last person that should give anyone advice, but I’m gonna say this. Don’t waste a second chance if the universe gives you one,” he said before slipping out into the restaurant proper.
Paige wiped down the counter one more time for good measure until her stomach growled, and her belly erupted into a flurry of kicks. She looked over her shoulder before slipping into the walk-in fridge. She eyed a bin of raw sausage and a whole ham but, surprisingly, settled her gaze on the packets of blood stacked neatly by type. Her growling bowels escalated to a roar.
“You have got to be kidding me,” she muttered to her abdomen. Still, she snatched one container labelled “Lamb – 8/15” and pried open the lid. The heady, metallic aroma made her salivate. Without further ado, she poured the entire container down her throat, gulping it with the speed of a frat boy. She licked her lips and eyed the ones marked as human, then wiped her mouth and stared at the red on her hand. Paige looked over her shoulder one more time and reached for type-O. “Oh god, what am I doing?”
She grabbed another container of animal blood and slurped it up furiously before hurrying to wash the containers and hide them in a cabinet, and then finally rejoining the throng. The moment she appeared, a concerned Kyle rushed to her side.
“I heard you were feeling stressed,” he said, closely looking at her eyes and checking her hands.
“I kept it together. On the bright side, the counters are spotless.” Paige looked away, but she knew the good doctor would have none of it. He tilted her chin and peered at her. One sniff had him raise a brow. Paige smiled weakly. “I had a snack too—little bit of a craving.”
“A blood craving?” he hissed, now looking around to make sure no one was listening.
“Yes, OK?” she growled back. “Now, can we get through this and then worry about it after? All things considered, it’s not the weirdest thing a pregnant woman has munched on. Before you even say it, yes, I’ll go to the lab for more tests, but not right now.”
“Thank you,” he said before leading her out to the barbeque.
Surprisingly, the drunken band of monsters had kept it relatively tame by devouring grilled meat and talking in little groups. The last group of Paige’s small army of werewolves—Tina, Al, and the Drs. Nakano—had joined the party, bringing even more food to lay on the overflowing picnic tables. Kyle stopped short as he saw the younger Dr. Nakano waltz over and plant a kiss on Sam Black before they wandered into a corner. Paige squeezed Kyle’s hand.
“Don’t take the bait, Red,” she growled.
“I was bad at relationships before I was a real werewolf,” Kyle grumbled as he shuffled towards the food. He made sure to take a seat with his back to Sam and Rikuto Nakano.
“Weren’t we all?” Paige muttered. She made a quick round, smiling at the pack and checking for any more drama. Reiko, the elder Dr. Nakano, sat with Gail. Soon Paige could hear frantic babble about protein structures and enzymatic reactions. Reiko paused long enough to wave at Paige and asked, “How are you feeling?”
“About as well as expected.”
They nodded at each other awkwardly. Finally, Reiko leaned over and asked, “Do you mind if we set up a consultation? I know that Kyle is your doctor, but he hasn’t been through what we have.”
“I’ll take all the help I can get.”
Before she could continue, her mom walked by with a plate for Paige that was piled high with pork shoulder sandwiches. Paige snatched it and settled down to eat in peace. She had just plowed through her third sandwich when Steve finally cleared his throat and took a central place between the cliques. He raised a shot glass.
“To Georgia—the most annoying, stubborn . . . pig-headed . . . woman crazy enough to deal with me. She dressed like a colorblind teenage boy and swore like a sailor. She never thought more than five minutes ahead and seemed to have an unnatural gift for getting into trouble,” he choked out. A few in the crowd exchanged curious looks as Steve paused to gulp down his shot. Steve took a deep breath. “And I never met anyone quite like her. She had this smile you couldn’t resist and a special way of putting even the most obnoxious bloodsuckers in their place. I fell head over heels for her, but never really got the chance to make her feel the same.”
Nadia stepped up and refilled Steve’s glass. He nodded his thanks before addressing the crowd again.
“Now, I’m not gonna lie and say I wish she was in a better place. I wish she was right here, being annoyed at all of us monsters. I would give anything just for a chance to piss her off again because it’s not fair that she is gone, and people like me are still here, but that’s the terrible world we live in, isn’t it? Life sucks, vampires suck, and we’re probably all going to suffer a hell of a lot more before all is said and done.”
Paige looked at the stunned crowd. Steve raised his glass one more time. “I want to be the better man, but I’m not that guy. I just want you all to know, that while I’m a rather worthless vampire, Georgia was and always will be better than me. Don’t judge her by the company she kept . . . and know that one day, I am going to find out exactly what happened, and those people that took her from us are going to pay. So, let’s have it, one more toast for Georgia.”
“For Georgia!” the crowd replied, raising their glasses. Steve nodded to them all then promptly slunk into the shadiest spot he could find. Maria quickly brought him food and shooed away any werewolves with a look that put even Paige’s alpha stare to shame.
Paige had just plowed through her last sandwich when a plate of cookies was set down beside her. She smiled as she saw the shadow of another tail nearby.
“You shouldn’t stick that thing out in public,” she said, snatching a peanut buttery morsel. Jonathan plopped down next to her and raised a brow at her own exposed extra limb. Finally, she let out a sigh. “But it really chafes after a while, so I’d rather be accused of being a furry than hide it.”
“Yeah, I just like jeans too much. May
be I should give in and get a wombat onesie,” Jonathan said, grabbing his own cookie.
“A wombat?” she asked with a raised brow.
“Yeah, something like that—or a honey badger or a wolverine. You know, a nasty little bugger. What animal would you be?”
Paige poked at her expanded tummy. “I feel like a blue whale.”
“Nah, you can’t be much bigger than a humpback, yet.”
Paige pummeled him with a left hook. She cringed as it landed a wee bit harder than expected, and he went sprawling to the ground. He laughed as he jumped back to his seat though. “Yeah, I totally deserved that one, and damn, you hit like a truck, Erin.”
“Paige,” she corrected.
“Sorry, don’t know why that keeps slipping out like that,” Jonathan said softly. “I just—”
“You have two thousand years of memories shuffled in your werewolf-addled brain?” Paige offered. Jonathan smiled weakly. Paige picked up another cookie. “Damn, these are good.”
“Well, no matter what, I still remember how to bake,” he said with a grin. “If you wanted, I could make another batch and maybe we could get a pizza . . . watch a movie?”
“My mom and I have a TV at the place we rent,” Paige offered. “And a futon.”
“Are you asking me out at a funeral?” Jonathan asked, clutching his hands to his chest. “What would your dear mother say?”
“Let me know when you come over . . . so I can be out,” Maria called from the next table. She tipped her wineglass towards Paige. Paige turned bright pink.
“How about tomorrow night?”
2
“Never again,” Gail Filipovic snapped as she slammed her fist into a punching bag. She followed it up with another flurry, slamming her knuckles harder and harder into the leather until a right hook finally burst through the covering, and her fingers rammed into sand. She watched the grains scatter on the floor, mixing with piles from previous victims. “Never again!”
“Not bad,” Nadia said, surveying the mountain of dead exercise equipment. “But I’ve only got two left, so if you don’t mind, could you work on accuracy rather than power for a while?”
Gail nodded sheepishly. She unhooked the bag and tossed it with the others. By the time she turned around, Nadia had scooped up its replacement and reattached it as if it weighed nothing. Gail took in the werewolf woman’s cut arms and flat abs. Nadia raised a brow.
“I’m afraid vampire bodies change very slowly, but if you want to put in a great deal of effort, you too will improve.”
“You mean it takes even more crunches now?” Gail moaned as she looked at her softer midsection. Somehow, despite Nadia’s bodybuilding physique, she still managed to have a more impressive bust than Gail. Nadia smiled again.
“You can shift your shape in ways other than turning into a wolf,” she said with a wink. Gail’s eyes widened as Nadia’s chest shrunk before her very eyes. “It’s easiest with the soft tissues.”
“I wonder if the mechanism is the same when the sheriff shifts shape. Is that a conscious action? Do you need to focus or meditate?” Gail found herself staring intently at the werewolf’s chest.
“You should take a photo, it will last longer,” Nadia said with a laugh. The werewolf began a brutal high-intensity interval of jumping and burpees and all sorts of motions that made Gail slink guiltily over to the weight bench. Gail gasped in surprise as she picked up a forty-five-pound weight with almost no effort. Nadia gave a thumbs-up between sets.
“How strong am I?” Gail asked herself as she started curling weights that looked better suited to a buff guy rather than a slip of a Serbian girl. Once Nadia finished her workout, she motioned for Gail to drop the iron.
“Come on, Bloodsucker. Let’s train.”
Gail spent the next thirty minutes being tossed on a mat. Every once in a while, Nadia would change the hold or the throw, grumbling in a mix of English and Russian. Gail groaned as she fell for the same blow each time, and even though she tried to block, she kept missing.
“Strength doesn’t matter against skill,” Nadia chided. She furrowed her brows and changed tactics, moving Gail’s arms into position, then mimicking the move next to her. Finally, Gail started matching the form. “It’s been a while since I’ve worked with a vampire. Lorcan used to say it was hard to teach his kind anything physical since their bodies were not truly theirs.”
“And all this . . .” Gail waved her arms to encompass the gym. “Just comes naturally to you?”
“Muscle memory,” Nadia said as Gail finally managed to block. After a few more rounds of practice, the werewolf sported a bead of sweat along her unnaturally bright hairline. She paused to chug a bottle of water, frowning as she wiped her neck with a towel and left a streak of violet on the terrycloth.
She tossed a bottle to Gail. “Even vampires need hydration,” she said, pointing to Gail’s dripping face. “You will get better with practice. I promise.”
“I’ve seen vampires pull off Bruce Lee moves, and I barely got through a self-defense class at the Y,” Gail sighed. “Javier would constantly lecture me on patience, but I haven’t mastered that yet.”
“The vampire who raised me was centuries old. It took him years to master what Toy or I could learn in days. It will never be easy.”
Gail slumped against the cinderblock wall. She eyed her sledgehammer, Baxter, leaning in the corner with the other blunt weapons the pack had collected. The room seemed to be a combination of dojo, armory, and gym; all carved out of an old karate place that didn’t survive the recession and Nashville floods. A faded poster of Enter the Dragon taunted Gail from the opposite wall.
Nadia sauntered over and rested a reassuring hand on Gail’s shoulder. “Just remember, vampyr, as difficult as you find this, the rest of us feel the same pain trying to focus on mental tasks.”
“But what about the twins?”
Nadia rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to do meditation with them or listen to them bitch when they get bored. Look, we all have strengths and weaknesses.”
“At least yours don’t involve death by sunburn. The hairy guy keeps stalking me too.”
Nadia furrowed her brows. “Ah, Bernard. He has his paranoia, but he’s mostly harmless.”
“He coats his hands in antibiotic ointment, and he keeps poking the others with toothpicks. He’s also putting mirrors at every entrance. That’s not paranoia, Nadia, that’s hunting, and it’s a little bit uncomfortable being the prey.”
Nadia nodded and looked away, lost in thought. From this angle, Gail could clearly make out a stark black tattoo on Nadia’s bicep. Gail cocked her head as she tried to make out the pattern of lines forming a star-like pattern.
“Liù,” Nadia explained. Gail raised a brow. “It’s six in Chinese. That was my test subject number as a child. When I went through my inevitable teenage rebellious phase, I had it tattooed on my arm because I wanted to tell my dad that I’d rather be stuck in a lab than deal with him. That’s when I started the purple hair, but I liked that so much that I kept it.”
“Your father?”
Nadia sighed. “Lorcan always wanted a daughter, you see, so he settled on the test subject he rescued from his enemies in Siberia.”
“Wait—Lorcan is your dad, but—”
“He’s a vampire? I knew I was adopted, my friend. One of his bondsmen, Anya, raised me most of the time. He made sure to visit me, to train me, and to make sure that I always knew I was his volchitsa. In return, I try my best to keep him and those he cares about safe. It’s rather simple, really.” Nadia stopped as the door opened and Kayleigh, Toy, the Black brothers, and Wesley piled into the old dojo.
Gail gulped involuntarily at the sheer volume of bristling werewolf muscle that poured into the room. Each of the new visitors carried a mat and towel. “Is she joining us for yoga?” Toy asked incredulously. “‘Cause I never thought of dead people as flexible.”
“Oh my god, remember when Grandpa fell over in the downward
dog incident?” Kayleigh asked, giggling.
The door opened one more time. This time Jonathan Dean sauntered inside, a dreamboat in a tight T-shirt and yoga pants. He tugged at the waistband until finally he had to yank his tail out the back. “Sorry folks, I’ve gotta let it out if we’re gonna do this. Oh, I’m so glad I’m not the only vampire in this class. Heya, Gail!”
“Actually, I need to help the brain bank. Have a nice workout, guys!” Gail bolted, but Nadia snagged her arm just before she made it to the door. The bigger woman pointed to the corner. Gail smiled and grabbed Baxter before hustling into the parking lot.
Just as she stepped onto the asphalt, she heard shuffling footsteps behind her. Gail turned to see reflective eyes in the shadow of a column. As the breeze changed, a chill ran down her spine. Her grip shifted ever so slightly on the handle of her companion sledgehammer.
“Whatcha doing?” a gruff yet somehow sing-song voice called from the shadows. Gail let out a deep breath.
“Going to work, Bernard.”
Bernard peered fully around the tower of eighties stucco that propped up this section of the strip mall. His expanded irises glowered from under a caveman-worthy brow. His hair and bushy beard melded into a halo around his stern face, and he tapped his foot impatiently as Gail continued to stare at him.
“And how do I know you are the real Gail and not some super Skrull impersonator? You could be the sheriff, for all we know,” Bernard said as he peered intently at her. “What’s the password?”
Gail smiled tightly, making a point to keep her fangs concealed. Bernard flipped a toothpick out of his cuff. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, I’m a vampire. That would hurt me too! You never gave me a damn password, Bernard, so just leave me alone.”
Bernard rolled in his lip and stroked his beard. “You’re the real Gail. I’m pretty sure the sheriff would have kicked my ass.”
Gail turned around and stormed into the parking lot. “Give me a few weeks and I’ll kick your ass, furball,” she grumbled under her breath. She hadn’t made it two more rows across the lot when another intimidating fragrance wafted into her nostrils. A huge shadow stood between her and the rear entrance of the Biogenesys Lab.