Lucy and the Crypt Casanova

by Minda Webber

  "I have my pride, too—" Lucy began, but Christine cut her off.

  "Pride is a cold bedfellow. And besides, Val is worth more. You know that."

  Lucy thought over what Val's partner said, and Christine was right. Pride was pride, but good love was better every night of the week. Yet, was everything ruined? She had not believed in her true love's fidelity. She had martyred herself for her past, for her mother's past, letting the burdens she carried convince her to distrust everyone else, and to hurt them before they had a chance to hurt her.

  "I've done Val a terrible wrong. How could I?" she whispered.

  "Yes, you did a bad, cruel thing, and Val didn't deserve it. He's a wonderful, loyal, loving, and passionate vampire—a credit to our species."

  Christine stared at her, and looking into those warm brown eyes Lucy tried to see within the vampiress's heart. "Do you still love Val?" she asked.

  Christine heard the concern in the mortal's voice. "I love Val as a partner and friend. Yes, we were lovers, but only for a short while. Less than six years. Besides, I'm with someone, and I have been for the past twelve years. And I'm not giving that up."

  "I don't know how to thank you," Lucy said with a sincere smile. Tears glistened in her pretty blue eyes.

  "Easy," Christine replied. "By sucking it up. Go apologize to Val. Make him listen. It won't be easy."

  But suddenly, before any more could be said, Christine tilted her head to one side. Lucy started to ask her what was wrong, but the vampiress silenced her with a slash of her hand, her mouth becoming a tight, hard line.

  Handing Lucy a cell phone, she commanded, "Call Val. Tell him where we are. I think our monster has just struck… Hit one on the phone," she explained when Lucy paused. Then, when Lucy did as instructed, Christine took off running. Kicking off her high heels, she headed toward a back alley across the street.

  After calling and alerting Val, Lucy took off after the vampiress. She was both curious and concerned, so Val's curses to stay put served no purpose but to ring idly in her ears.

  The alley was dark and curving. Lucy could hear Christine's feet against the wet asphalt, slapping fast and furious as the vampiress ran.

  By the time Lucy reached the end of the alley, she heard the sounds of a fight. The alley had an overflowing Dumpster and open stacks of boxes and smaller tin garbage cans, many filled with rotting fruit. A large single lightbulb hung above a doorway, illuminating the struggle taking place between Christine and another paranormal creature. On the ground beside the Dumpster lay a young woman.

  Lucy ran to what was clearly DeLeon's latest victim and checked her pulse. From the light above, Lucy could see that the woman's mouth was bruised, tiny wrinkles radiating out from her mouth and eyes. The woman's skirt was hiked up, but her panties were still on. Had she been raped? At least she was still alive, even if she was unconscious.

  The sound of someone being thrown into a trash can caught Lucy's attention. Glancing up, she saw Christine lying in a heap by the can and a tall figure with dark hair hanging in a thick fat braid to his waist. He was crouching down, ready to launch himself at Christine, who was shaking her head as if dazed.

  Without really thinking, Lucy picked up a wine bottle and threw it at the creature's head, screaming, "Remember the Alamo!" It hit with a crack.

  Surprised more than hurt, the creature turned to look at Lucy. In the dim light, she gasped and froze like a deer caught in the headlights. The monster had violet eyes—strange, empty dead eyes—along with really ugly reddish fangs. It was the Ka incubus in the flesh—and unfortunately, up close and personal!

  What irony. She had been looking for the menacing monster for over a week, and here he was. She had found him all right, and he was just a tad irritated at her. Maybe she shouldn't have thrown that bottle of cheap wine at him. Maybe she shouldn't have drawn his attention to her. After all, she wasn't Superwoman or a super vampire. Maybe she hadn't thought her distract-him-any-way-you-can plan through completely.

  What to do with him? Lucy was nearly in hysterics as the incubus leapt toward her. But again, her subconscious came to her aid, and she grabbed up a trash can lid and held it like a shield.

  The incubus continued attacking, so Lucy hit him in the face with the trash can lid. She could feel it dent, and his weight threw off her balance. She stumbled into a trash box with the rotting, slimy fruit, and landing in the mushy and smelly things had her gagging and cussing while the incubus rolled away and came to his feet.

  "You youth-stealing swine! You red-fanged freak! Why don't you pick on somebody your own size? Cowardly creep! You sidewinder incubus, you!" Lucy shouted, trying to keep the monster's attention on her instead of Christine. She struggled to her feet, slipping inside the large box as she danced around on rotting grapes, peaches, and bananas. Suddenly she felt like she was in a B-grade horror movie—but in Tuscany, complete with wine-making. "You life-snatching sneak of a skunk!"

  DeLeon growled at her insults, reddish fangs gleaming a bright crimson and growing another inch. He blinked, wondering why this mortal female wasn't cowering in fear or crying for mercy. She was different than most humans… but still wasn't enough of a curiosity to keep him from killing her.

  Lucy gasped. "Oh, yuck!" DeLeon really had a dental problem, what with those foul-looking fangs of his. No way did she want those things anywhere near her. She shuddered in revulsion.

  Smelling her fear, DeLeon laughed and slowly stalked her. Lucy's plan was working. He had clearly momentarily forgotten in his anger that another supernatural creature was behind him lurking in the dark, waiting for the perfect time to strike.

  "Hell's bells," Lucy muttered, maneuvering out of the trash box, large globs of smashed grapes and bananas on her clothes, peaches in her hair. As she stepped accidentally into another small box, it lodged on her right foot. Unsuccessfully she tried to kick it off, then gave up and began backing away.

  "Hold on to your cowboy hats, you've found what you were seeking, Lucy, and this is going to be a bumpy night," she muttered to herself, not really thinking about what she was saying. How could she? This monster took a person's life without remorse. He aged women so he could be forever young, and didn't care about the wrecked lives he left behind.

  "You're nothing more than a necrophiliac," she accused him. "And having sex with women until you age them to death? You ought to be ashamed! You amoral immortal! You ought to be rotting in hell, you chicken-shitted, troll-dunged youth-sponger! What makes you think you can age a woman, having her act like and buy purses like her mother forty years too soon?"

  DeLeon halted in his stalking. He gave his prey another close inspection, reassessing his earlier opinion.

  The mortal was a muddled moron, an escaped lunatic! Had she truly come looking for him?

  Lucy smiled. Though feeling grim, she was also pleased. Her plan had worked. An age-old Campbell family strategy was confusion to the enemy. And behind him, in the corner of her eye, she could see that Christine had gotten to her feet.

  "I'll make you pay for those words, foolhardy human," DeLeon snarled. He lunged at her, but behind his back Christine went on the attack. The vampiress's lunge caught him in the lower back. Unfortunately, while the tackle sent him to the ground, it also knocked Lucy back into the trash pile.

  "Hell's bells!" she exclaimed. "I'm in the fruit again."

  The sounds of shouts and running feet and the flicker of flashlights lit the alleyway behind them. Behind that noise came the insistent call of police sirens, still distant but closing in. Hearing this, DeLeon threw Christine off his body, slamming her into the wall, then he took off running, jumping the nearby chain-link fence as easily as if it were a puddle. A moment later he had disappeared into the hot, dark Louisiana night.

  Catching her breath, Christine spoke up. She said brusquely, "Tell Val what happened. I'm going after him." And before Lucy could argue that the incubus was too much for a lone vamp to handle, the vampiress was gone.

  Pulling he
rself out of the garbage, Lucy stood. The pounding footsteps and bright lights neared. Instinctively, she knew that it was Val running to her rescue.

  She almost groaned. In spite of her recent fall, the box was still stuck to her foot. A banana peel rested on her right shoulder, along with smashed grapes all over her clothes and knees. Large gobs of fruit were dripping down the side of her cheek from her hair. She had always been told she had a peaches-and-cream complexion, but this was ridiculous.

  Taking a clomping step forward, she wiped slimy juice out of her eyes. She was an unappetizing mess of fruit cocktail, looked as bad as she possibly could look… and yet she had never been gladder to see Val in her entire life.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Grapes of Trash

  Val ran down the alleyway, his flashlight bobbing, his movements fast, and he hoped his expression was a grim reminder to not mess with anything that went bump and bit really hard in the night. Lucy and Christine were in danger! His heart was pumping double-time in his chest as he burst onto the scene.

  He saw Lucy standing slightly bent over, as if from a blow to the stomach. Her heart was beating a fast two-step; Val could hear it from where he stood. Once again, she was in the thick of things—covered in grape goop, a banana peel on her shoulder, and somewhere she had picked up a box she was now wearing on her foot. She looked like someone with a bit of a fetish for fruit, but otherwise seemed unhurt.

  To the right of her, a young woman lay moaning softly. Good, Val thought, the victim was alive, and so was the lack-witted Lucy.

  "Where's Christine?" he asked.

  Lucy stared at him, then replied, "She chased DeLeon."

  She took a step closer, the cardboard box clumping along with her.

  Lucy wanted to throw herself into Val's arms, but his grim expression stopped her. Besides, she looked like a vegetarian nightmare. Despite the fact that this strong, handsome knight had come running to rescue the fair maiden, this was certainly no Hallmark moment. An insidious killer was on the loose, Val's partner was chasing him, she owed Val a big apology for her years of mistrust, and she looked like some sort of rotting fruitcake.

  "How do you know it was DeLeon?" Val asked brusquely, moving to check on the other girl. Two more policemen had just arrived on the scene.

  "Violet eyes, a scar… and the guy really needs some major dental work. His teeth are this really awful red, and they aren't as sharp as yours. They're kind of thick, and longer." She hoped she hadn't hurt Val's feelings by the bigger-teeth bit. Men were so sensitive over the subject of size—or at least her mother had always said so.

  Val nodded, then motioned the patrolmen over, commanding the two officers, "See to the lady and watch out for Lucy here. Don't let her get into any more trouble than she's already in." He gave her fruit-smeared body the once-over.

  "Wait, Val. Where are you going?" Lucy asked, her tone high and scratchy, revealing just how frightened she was. She wanted to cringe, thinking that she sounded like a scared mouse, some silly female waiting to be rescued. But then, she was a silly female waiting to be rescued. Lucy knew she might be able to handle some paranormal creatures, but a monster like a Ka incubus was big time.

  Val looked grim as he replied, "After Christine. DeLeon's too much to handle alone. She could be killed."

  "No need, partner," came a voice. Christine materialized out of the shadows at the back of the alley and added, "And I'm alive because Lucy here helped out. She drew DeLeon's attention away when I was down. He would have gotten me." Walking up to Lucy, the vampiress gave her a hug, in spite of the garbage hanging off Lucy's clothing and in her hair. "Thanks, Lucy, you saved my 'tite ole vampire butt."

  Lucy hugged Christine back, surprising herself. This was the female vamp she had hated for over four years, the coffin-wrecking femme fatale! But she had been wrong about Christine. She had been wrong about a lot of things. Guilt was gnawing at her insides like a hungry mouse. She owed Val, huge.

  "How's the victim?" Christine asked.

  Val looked away from his partner and the princess of pandemonium over to the ground where one of the policemen had lifted the young woman into a sitting position. "She's okay. She may have lost a few years, but at least she's not dead."

  "I don't think she was raped," Lucy remarked hopefully.

  Val sniffed the air carefully, filtering through the smells of rotting garbage, urine, and dank decay. "No. She wasn't," he agreed.

  "Good," Lucy stared at the victim, but she was secretly wishing Val would take her in his arms. She was wishing this was four-plus years ago, and that she hadn't been a major-league fool.

  Christine moved closer, saying, "He got away, Val. He's fast. Really fast and strong. I followed him down the last few blocks of Pirate Alley, but lost him in the warehouse district."

  Val nodded. "I'm glad you weren't hurt, and that you knew better than to try and apprehend the suspect by yourself. One vampire isn't quite strong enough for a Ka incubus!" he said accusingly.

  "I had help," Christine protested. "I had Lucy."

  "Ah. Lucy." Pointing a finger, Val turned his attention from his foolish partner to the source of his real anger. His voice taut with suppressed rage, he hissed, "She's a civilian. A chaos-causing, accident-prone civilian. Merde, Chris—look at her!"

  The vampires turned in unison, staring at Lucy. She had been listening to their conversation in ire, tugging the box off her foot and almost toppling over. To think she had thought Val was a knight in shining armor. Hardly!

  "Well, thanks a bunch, Val!" she snapped. "I might look like a tossed fruit salad, but I can take care of myself." And with that, she threw the offending box over her shoulder. Her eyes opened wide when she heard a yelp.

  Glancing quickly back, she winced. She had hit one of the policemen on the head. "Sorry about that," she mumbled, busying herself picking her purse up off the ground. Reaching inside, she withdrew a gun and thrust it up in the air.

  The second policeman went for his pistol. Val quickly stopped him, blocking his view of Lucy. "Just what the hell is that thing supposed to be?" he asked. "It looks like a water pistol."

  "It is," Lucy replied, stung by the disdain she could hear in his voice. Four minutes before, he had desperately wanted to save her. Now he seemed to want to strangle her—a meddling, muddling mortal.

  "You're running around the Big Easy with a water gun, and that's supposed to protect you?" he asked. "How easy do you think it would be for a criminal—or a paranormal, especially—to spot a water pistol?" He bit out the words. This daft woman was impossible! And why did he care? Just sign him up for the Dumbest Dick of the Year Award.

  "I'm not stupid! Just because you think so doesn't mean I am. How stupid would I have to be to carry around a water pistol with just plain water in it? Pretty stupid, huh? Well, don't hold your breath." Lucy snorted, shoving the pistol back in her purse. "Oh, that's right. You don't have to hold your breath, do you, you big dead dufus!"

  "Dead dufus?" Christine repeated, trying to keep a straight face. What a comedy of errors. Val was livid—and that really meant something for the normally stone-faced detective.

  Turning to Christine, Lucy explained. "He's a dufus, all right, if he thinks I would try to scare a real live monster with a water gun. This contains holy water." And before Val could comment, she added, "I also have regular mace and laced mace."

  "Laced mace?" Val couldn't help but ask. He felt as if he were watching a train wreck.

  "Yes." Lucy reached inside her purse and pulled out a mace bottle. "This one has silver nitrate for shape-shifters and gargoyles."

  "I see," Val said. And he did. Her down-home weapons would be deadly if used correctly. But with Lucy… "That's why they're still in your purse?" he asked.

  "I don't understand," Lucy said, but Val cut her off.

  "Mais, non. Of course you don't. Cherie, nobody ever was protected by a weapon still in their purse."

  Lucy looked at him as if he was crazy. "I know that."
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  "You do? Then why are they still in your purse?" he persisted, certain she must see reason before he turned five hundred years old. Not that five hundred was too far off.

  "Because it all happened so fast," Lucy answered reluctantly. Suddenly she saw where his questions were leading, and it wasn't down a primrose path or anything so sweet-smelling. Dang, the man was sneaky, and he could go right for the jugular when he wanted. And yep, he definitely thought she was a fruitcake.

  "Right. That's why preternatural predators are called predators—because they're lethal and fast. Very fast, Luce. Too fast for humans, smart or otherwise."

  Scowling at him, Lucy shoved her mace back in her purse and began to walk away. Her walk was lopsided, since she had lost a shoe somewhere. Her clothes were sticking to her, and she heard herself squelching as she went, peach goo dripping into her eyes.

  Humiliating! She could feel Val's eyes upon her, just as she heard the sound of the ambulance siren head down the alleyway.

  But then a voice called out, "Wait up, Lucy! I'll drive you home."

  It was a command, and Val turned and gave instructions to the other police officers to secure the scene, then asked Christine to accompany the victim to the hospital.

  Lucy halted, listening to his instructions, and to his domineering tone of voice, and suddenly she shivered. She remembered all too well that voice whispering instructions in her ear as they had wild vampire sex. Instructions about where to touch him, where to bite him, and just where he was going to touch her.

  Oh, how she wanted that back. She wanted him back, even if he was a tad authoritative. Even if he drove her crazy sometimes with his protective instincts and the draining way he sucked on her neck. She sighed. Her neck was very sensitive, and nobody knew how to suck one better than a vampire. They were experts at necking. In fact, they had probably invented neck-sucking, horny, toothy race that they were.

  Val caught up just as Christine called out, "Hey, Lucy, that battle cry of yours—remember the Alamo? I like it."