“Good boy! Keeping Momma safe, that’s your job isn’t it … yes, it is.” I scratched Beano behind the ears as we watched the guy run back to the elevator.
Beano’s nose twitched as he sauntered over to the package on the foyer table. This prompted my intuition to dive into my sense of smell. The odor of decomposed flesh curdled my stomach. It roiled to associate the rotten smell with my sister.
“I can do this, Beano. I can put on my big girl panties, and I can do this.” Holding the box to my face, I looked closer to see if I could find anything about it which would help clue me into its origins. I shook the box and something solid moved inside it. “Oh, Beano, I have a bad feeling about this.”
Pulling the sealed tab along the edge of the box, I prayed it didn’t have a live snake or some kind of spider in it. I just simply couldn’t handle it if that were the case. Big girl panties or not, I didn’t do critters with more than four legs.
Instead, what I did see dropped me to my knees in less than a heartbeat. Inside was a small box that an engagement ring would normally be in. Inside the box, resting on a cushion of black velvet was Dakota’s pinky toe. It still wore the Hello Kitty toe ring I had given her for her last birthday.
I had no words – only more tears as I recognized Dakota’s signature toenail polish.
Beano licked my salty face, consoling me. I reached out and hugged him to help endure the guilt over the damage I’d done to my sister.
Chapter Thirty-Three
I awoke cradling the black velvet jewelry box to my chest and the incessant ringing on the door bell again. I don’t know how long I lay on the cold tile. I got up and tried to straighten out my appearance, even though a quick glance in the mirrors proved my face looked like a pink Stay Puft marshmallow man.
Beano sniffed the air at the same time I noticed an odd tinge to its flavor. Floral and sweet.
“Okay, I’m coming – lay off the damn bell, will ya?” I shouted. “Beano sit. Stay.” Again, I gave him the hand command to not move unless I gave him a signal to attack.
Opening the door revealed a huge bouquet of birds-of-paradise and lilies in the arms of a not-so-cute delivery guy.
“Are you Cheyenne O’Cuinn?”
I nodded.
“These are for you.”
At least this guy has manners
He had a nice smile, and he actually greeted the dogs. “Hey there, good boy. Is it all right to pet him and give him a treat?”
Okay, so he’s a dog person – he’s got to be okay. I nodded at him.
He continued to pet Beano as he handed me the flowers. The vase was so huge it took both my hands to hold it. I propped it up on my hip in order to sign his delivery pad.
“Here ya go, ma’am. Can you sign here, please?”
I reached up to take the pen from his hand and with a lightning stroke he managed to clamp a silver handcuff onto my wrist. I was caught by surprise as my skin burned from the precious metal.
I looked down at Beano, and he was staggering, almost stumbling backwards with white foam falling from his mouth. My skin smoldered, and it stung like boiling ice.
“What the hell?” I cried out.
“Shut up, bitch!” Mr. Not so Nice Delivery Guy pushed me inside and shut the door.
I swung the glass vase into the side of his head. Shattered shards of glass crashed and fell all over the floor. Slipping in the water, he stumbled backwards grabbing at the silver handcuff for balance, pulling my arm down with him. He tried to secure my other wrist into the cuff as he sloshed around in the water and glass.
So over the games, the clues, the grief, the everything, I simply uncorked on this asshole. I swung him around, throwing him into the wall where my commissioned Steve Hanks painting hung. His head exploded the frame.
Beano, wobbling, was at my side and dove atop the guy. Stormy barked as if her little life depended on it. Beano bit and attacked the man’s face several times. Mr. Flower Delivery Guy punched Beano’s chest and my poor puppy went flying into the next room. I heard a yelp and then there was silence. His paws were bloodied from the broken glass. Stormy pattered around Beano as she licked his head.
I turned back to the jerk. “Oh no you didn’t, you mother fucker! Nobody hurts my dog and gets away with it!”
I grabbed a larger piece of glass from the broken shards as he stood. He stepped hard into me. As we crashed into one another, one of his long arms clipped me on the chin. Stars blasted behind my eyelids. His momentum sent him past me, giving me the opportunity to slash his face with the glass in my hand, gouging a deep gash in his cheek and over his ear. He screamed like a trapped insane asylum victim.
At this point I was so angry I didn’t care anymore. I grabbed the closest thing I could find to kill this guy and ripped it to shreds. Unfortunately, that was my grandmother’s rocking chair. I pulled out the heavy wooden dowel from the backing and attempted to beat the guy senseless with it. He sat there cradling his head after I pummeled him time and time again. I totally uncorked on the guy from the stress I was under.
What is this guy made of? He should be limp by now.
“And this is for my sister Sheridan. And this is for killing my dog!” I kicked at his ribs, relishing in the crunch of his bones as my toes crumbled with brute force against him.
He lay motionless and unresponsive. I stomped on his head one last time and said, “… and this is for destroying my Steve Hanks painting!”
Nothing. He didn’t move. “Asshole!”
I limped on broken toes to gather the velvet box I had dropped in the doorway, grabbed it, and hobbled to Beano. I kneeled in my own bloody mess from the shards of glass and grabbed Beano up into my chest. I needed to know if he was okay or if I needed to call a 911 Vet. He was breathing. I could hear his heart beating – rhythmic and steady. But he was knocked out cold. I rocked him back and forth, consoling both of us. So completely overcome with grief and despair, I sat there, getting angrier.
I am not going to take any more losses, dammit!
A deep gasp escaped me as a blow to my head sent my teeth rattling inside my mouth. I fell sideways as the delivery guy wound up his electronic tablet for another blow. I picked up the wooden dowel from the rocker and braced myself. The idiot ran into me. I let us fall backwards, allowing his momentum to carry him right onto me, skewering him like a Sunday BBQ shish kebob.
The wooden dowel tore through the back of his spine. I laughed as his breath wheezed in and out of him. “Oh, you are so in deep gris gris right now, boy.” My eyes grew wide as my despair turned into lunacy.
I turned the wooden dowel, twisting his insides as he howled out in pain. “How does that feel, you gobshite son-of-a-bitch?”
He screamed, and suddenly my inner vampire became famished.
“I’m gonna suck yer head like a mudbug, jerkwad. Nobody tries to cuff silver on me and hurts my dog!”
I sat down with my meat on a stick and thought about this scenario for a moment. I had my own human body on a stick. Caught between whether I should deep fry him or drink him with a straw, I wondered how I should enjoy my little delicacy. I’ve had deep fried Twinkies on a stick, a Snickers on a stick, and even a fried pickle on a stick, but this was my very first human on a stick. I wondered how I could sell human bodies on a stick at state fairs all across the country. Do vampires go to state fairs?
Who cares?
I shrugged, and I sank my teeth into his neck, drinking deep as he continued to struggle and scream for his life. His howling tickled my lips, and I sucked harder. The sweet, very different, tang from his blood flowed into my belly, and filled me with more adrenaline, more power, and something else, almost euphoric. My body awakened with every swig from his artery. He was all but shriveled up to a prune when Khaldon ran through my front door and gasped.
“Cheyenne! What happened here? Are you all right? What are you doing?”
With a mouth full of blood, I shrugged. “What?”
A little bit of blood dribbl
ed down my chin. Momma always said, ‘ladies don’t talk with their mouths full.’ I swallowed and wiped my face with the back of my hand. “He tried to kill me! Can you get these damn things off of me? Bitch, this shit hurts.” I showed him the smoldering silver handcuffs etching deeper and deeper into my skin as they dangled off my wrist. My head felt heavy as I started to list sideways.
“Bloody hell, Chey!” Khaldon threw off his sunglasses and patted the delivery guy down for keys.
“Be careful. He might have a needle on him. He did something to Beano.”
Khaldon ripped off the guy’s front pants pockets in a single pull and found the key ring. Within seconds, the destructive metal clanged to the floor.
Throwing the depleted corpse off of me, Khaldon helped me up and hugged me tight. I was over crying. I didn’t want him to see how weak I was, how defeated I felt.
“Are you okay? You haven’t told me, are you all right?” His voice was kind, and calm, but I was still angry as to why he did not contact me or come back last night.
“I’m fine.” I let out a loud belch. It echoed off the tiles. “Well that wasn’t very ladylike now was it?” I said, dropping out of his grasp. “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
“That’s not what I said, or implied, Cheyenne.”
My name, why did he have to say my name? God I loved how his English accent said, ‘Cheyenne.’
I walked away, picked up Beano, and limped over to the couch in the living room. Folded like a blanket in my arms, he gave no resistance – simply passed out and lifeless.
“Cheyenne, you’re bleeding.” Khaldon noticed my bloody footprints tracing my steps. “Let me get some towels and stuff. You don’t want glass to embed in your skin. Believe me, it itches like hell later on.” Khaldon walked through my house as if he knew exactly where everything was. It kind of freaked me out.
He returned with my red towels and a warm washcloth.
Good choice.
He plucked out the few shards of glass embedded in my feet and some larger pieces from my arm and knees.
It felt good to be touched. To have someone caring for me. I absorbed Khaldon’s kindness and talked to Beano. I looked for Stormy. She was huddled under my mom’s quilt and shaking. I pulled her next to me while I tried to rouse Beano back to consciousness. My heart leapt when I finally heard him whimper a little.
I cooed to him as he licked my nose. “It’s okay, buddy. The bad guy is all gone. Mommy kilt him for you – oh, yes she did. Nobody messes with my Beano Puppy… nobody.” He licked my cheek again, laid his head in my hand and closed his eyes. Stormy licked at his nose and laid her little body beside him.
“Remind me never to bloody well piss Beano off in the future, all right? Those are some ferocious dog bites on that guy’s face.” Khaldon cleaned my wounds with the washcloth.
The movement tickled and I squirmed under his touch. My eyes drooped.
“What the hell happened in here? Who is that guy?” he asked again.
“Ludovic! Ludovic, that prick.” I pointed to the little black box lying on the floor next to the skewered flower guy. My voice sliced through the momentary calm as memories flashed into my head. “He cut off Dakota’s toe and sent it to me.” My voice tremored. “The gobshite bastard.”
“Then whoever this guy was, he tried to take me with him. I crashed the flower vase into his head after he cuffed me.” I felt my face flush. I was overcome with heat. “Now I have a hurt puppy, a broken painting, and a dead guy on my floor. And where the hell have you been?”
“Never mind that.” Khaldon looked at me. “What I want to know is who the bloody hell is sending you flowers?”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Khaldon held me close. He smelled freshly showered. “Do you realize you just killed a man who tried to capture you, by the looks of it?”
“Where have you been? Why are you making me become a crazy Fatal Attraction bitch? I’ve never had to ask you where you’ve been. You’ve always shown up on time when we gamed in the simulators. You’ve never been late to a date.” My voice tenuous, I pitched up a couple of decibels.
“I know, I know … I’m sorry about that. That is what I came here to discuss with you. I think we have a bigger problem than we thought.”
It was hard even trying to stay mad at him with his arms wrapped around me. He rocked me back and forth in a calming motion. It was as if we were in the surf at the beach with his gentle swaying. I was still so tired, I almost fell asleep.
I belched. “Oh, excuse me. That surely wasn’t very ladylike either, now was it?” I think that guy might have been a bit intoxicated, because I feel funny. D’yaknowhatimeanlike?”
“What do you mean by funny? Funny like ha ha or funny like – you thinkn’ it might be the Montezuma’s Revenge coming upon you now?” Khaldon, still holding me, took a cautious step backwards.
“More like I’m fawin’ aboot, phised as a fart, ya know? I’m pretty sure this fella here was full of the falling down juice. I’m hammered!” My body felt like Jell-O as I sank into the couch.
“Ah – I see now, you had a bloody elevenses then have you? Come on now, let’s get you a bit more comfortable.” And with that Khaldon picked up the blanket from the back of the couch and covered both Beano and me. I wrapped my arms around his neck feeling the muscles under his shirt as he tucked us in.
I could get used to this.
He stood and propped his hands on his hips staring down at me. I tugged at his pant leg to indicate I wanted him to down here and have a snogfest, but he wasn’t havin’ anything of it. “You sound just like Torchy when you’re drunk.“
I scrunched my face, not understanding. “Torchy? Your friend who took care of the puppies, or your dragon inside the game?” The firewater in flower delivery guy’s blood hit me like a lead brick. “Did you say I sound like a dragon?”
“Well, Chey, kinda yeah – I suppose. Torchy is from Scotland, though, and your heritage is Irish.”
“Are you calling me a skenker? How dare you call me a Scot?”
“No, m’lady, of course not, but I don’t believe Torch will be all that happy with you if you refer to him as skenker. All right?”
“Whoever this Torchy fella is – whateveryoucallhim - I need to meet him.” My words began to slur with every passing syllable. I was fading fast.
“Torchy is my best chap. You’ll meet him soon.” He continued to look down on me and pulled his mouth over to one side. “I think the best thing you need is to get some rest. You really need a shower.”
I shot him a dirty look, but I knew he was right. There was just no way in hell I was going to be able to take a shower and support myself.
I’m not getting naked with him in the vicinity no matter how much I want to.
The cuts in my feet healed as I watched. His hands caressed my feet as he pulled them onto the couch atop of him. Khaldon rubbed my feet, and I didn’t even have to ask.
Oh glory Mother of the Goddess – I have a guy who likes to give foot rubs?
“Check!” I said in a singing voice.
“Check?”
“I probably will regret telling you this when I can think straight. But every time you say or do something that really softens my core, I give you a check mark. I have to tell ya, you’re filling up my card.”
His strong hands kneaded deep into the healing flesh of my foot. It felt heavenly.
“So… Ima trying to get this … you have a pet dragon? How come you never mentioned him before?”
My eyelids were heavier than my Aunt Maisie’s combat boots.
“You know the dragon I carry around my shoulders?” he said.
“Oh yeah - I remember now. The cute little red one who blows smoke rings out his nostrils. He’s sooo cute.” Clarity was the farthest thing from my mind. “And how is he your best friend? Do you speak dragon?”
“No, Chey. You’re really mallard. Torch lives here in Orlando. In fact, he’s in the same condo complex as me
, a couple of buildings over.”
I nodded. “So when do I get to meet the elusive dragon?”
“Perhaps after you sleep, cause you really need the rest. That dhampir’s blood has you in a bad way.”
Beano close to my side, actually got up and lay back down on Khaldon’s foot. “You’ve been accepted.” I smiled. “You still haven’t told me where … you’ve … been.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
The Penthouse
Khaldon Seters
Khaldon sat on the couch, rubbing Cheyenne’s feet. Even though she was sound asleep and even snoring a bit, he didn’t seem to mind. Any amount of time with her was better than what he went through the previous night.
How in the hell am I ever going to be able to tell her about Amicula? I love Cheyenne – she is the most amazing woman I have ever known and now that she is vampire, I believe my life won’t be complete until I make her my own. Look at her – she’s beautiful, and these feet – they’re so damn cute.
Khaldon looked up around the house and saw his avatar Roxas reflected in much of her home, similar to what he’d done with her avatar. She had a beautiful watercolor painting she’d commissioned of their avatars kissing in front of a waterfall. It was her favorite picture. Now it lay lopsided in broken shards against the wall. Hopefully the impact hadn’t damaged the painting, but it would have to be re-framed.
Khaldon gently pushed Cheyenne’s legs off of him and tucked them back under the blanket when he stood up. He admired her for a moment and hoped she could get a little rest sleeping off this drunk.
He picked up the painting to examine it for damage. Beano looked up at him curiously. “Well, Beano, I don’t see any holes in the canvas. I think we can get this fixed up at the Super Market. Now what do you think we should do with this flower delivery guy?”
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