Vampire Most Wanted: An Argeneau Novel (Argeneau Vampire)

by Lynsay Sands

  Marcus glanced around with surprise to find Kevin Morrow walking toward him. The twenty-year-old carnie was tall and stick-thin, his face a collection of freckles so thick that from a distance it looked like a tan. Up close though you saw that his face was definitely freckled, and it was also presently scrunched up with displeasure, reminding Marcus that he was only supposed to take a fifteen-minute break from helping to man the food stall.

  “I was—”

  “Stuffing your face,” the young carnie interrupted dryly and then turned away, gesturing for him to follow. “Come on. If you’re hungry you can have a corn dog while you work. It’s probably better for you than that sugary fluff anyway.”

  Marcus blinked and glanced down at the cone with the half-eaten cotton candy the boy had given him several minutes ago. Or what had been half-eaten cotton candy. There was nothing left of the sweet treat now. Surely he hadn’t eaten it? He hadn’t eaten in more than a millennium. He didn’t remember eating it. But he did have a sweet taste in his mouth that was rather pleasant.

  “Damn,” he muttered, tossing the cardboard cone into a garbage bin as he headed after Kevin. He’d eaten it. Couldn’t read Madame Divine, and was lusting after the woman. Oh, this wasn’t good.

  Two

  Divine saw the last customer out of her trailer and then paused on the steps to peer along the midway. It was midnight, closing time, but the lights from the various attractions still glowed all along the midway. The tinny music still played too, but the rest of the sounds were dying down. The loud hawking by ride jockeys trying to lure people to their rides, and the agents trying to lure townies to the games, had died off. The laughter, chatter, and squealing of the townies enjoying the attractions were dying off too as the mad crush of people that had filled the area earlier dropped to a trickle of stragglers heading for the exit.

  Without people filling every space, you could now see the mess that had been left behind. Discarded food and drink containers littered the midway, dropped and kicked to the side rather than placed in the garbage bins supplied at regular intervals. They were interspersed with half-eaten burgers, corn dogs, and ice cream cones left to melt on the tarmac where they fell. Among the mess she could see a pair of tiny running shoes and even a wrinkled T-shirt or two left behind and wondered how the owners had left without them. The shoes belonged to a child who might have been carried out, but hadn’t the parent noticed the bare feet? As for the T-shirts, a lot of boys removed them and hung them through the loops of their shorts in the heat of the day, but shirts were required for rides and had to be re-donned if they wanted on. The only thing she could think was the owners of these particular T-shirts had lost them on the way out. It made her wonder how upset they would be when they got home and realized they were gone.

  The music suddenly died and the Ferris wheel lights blinked out. Divine glanced toward it even as the lights on several other rides followed suit. Everything was beginning to shut down. Within moments the midway would be dark, the rides and stalls locked down for the night. The cleanup would be left for morning rather than waste the electricity to keep the lights on to do it now. It was more cost-efficient to do it in the bright light of day. Besides, by then some of the discarded foodstuff would have been gobbled up by local dogs or vermin, which would save a bit of cleanup time.

  Divine’s gaze swept the darkening midway, the structures mostly black shadows against the moonlit night. Within moments the first of the carnies would finish their shutdown and be headed for the back lot beyond the front of her RV where the trailers all were. There would be drinking and laughter as they unwound from their long day and the stress of dealing with the public. Divine sometimes joined them. Not to drink, since that did little for her. She went to enjoy the camaraderie. She usually sat and nursed a cup of tea outside Bob and Madge Hoskins’s trailer on a nice night. If it was raining, they’d move inside to dissect the day and talk about how good or how poor the take had been.

  Divine shifted her feet, briefly debating whether she should do so tonight. It was the greenie Marco who was making her hesitate. Most immortals, like mortals, considered carnies beneath them, not seeing the long, hard hours they worked, only seeing their shabby unkempt appearance, and bad teeth for lack of money and time to fix them. In fact, Marco was the only immortal besides herself that she knew of who had chosen to spend time with the traveling carnivals over the years, and his presence now was troubling.

  She suspected Marco had to be rogue and hiding out to have found his way to the carnival. If that was the case . . . well, the last thing she needed was for a rogue to draw the attention of the Rogue Hunters to her carnival. Divine had managed to hide in this environment for a good hundred years. She didn’t want someone like this new guy blowing that for her. The safest thing to do was to avoid the man, and since she couldn’t guarantee he too wouldn’t go to visit with the Hoskinses . . . well, she thought, perhaps she should bypass her usual routine of relaxing with the couple this night.

  On the other hand, greenies often had homes to go to at night. If they didn’t and stayed here with the carnies, they usually sat on the fringes, away from the owner and his wife. It might be okay for her to join the couple and unwind a bit. Certainly, she had no need to go hunting tonight. Allen Paulson had supplied her with dinner.

  Decision made, Divine popped the lock on her RV door. She then headed around her vehicle for the back lot where Bob and Madge had parked their own private RV. The couple had several vehicles for business, including a trailer where they hired greenies and handled customer service issues. They also had several games and rides, but they never traveled without their own RV for living and sleeping in. After a long day dealing with carnies and customers alike, a private space to retreat to was a necessity.

  The back lot was a large area, almost as large as the carnival itself. Here there were half a dozen RVs belonging to the better-off full-time carnies who had stalls, rides, or ran games, but there were also bunkhouse trailers with tiny rooms big enough for a bed or bunk beds and a small walking space. Divine suspected you’d have more room in a prison cell, but all it was for was sleeping so in that sense it served its purpose. There were usually four to six bunkrooms in each trailer; some bunkhouses had their own lavatory for the inhabitants to share, some didn’t. For those without, there were other trailers with mobile lavatories in them. There was also a trailer that served as a schoolroom for those children traveling with carnie parents, as well as a laundry trailer and a couple of small trailers that acted like small markets, corner stores, or drugstores, depending on which one you used.

  In effect, the carnival was a small traveling city carrying everything they might need with it. A carnie didn’t really have to go into the towns they visited at all if they didn’t want to unless there was some specialty item that wasn’t available in the traveling stores.

  “Miss Divine.”

  Slowing, she glanced to the side, nodding in greeting when she spotted Hal walking toward her with a slight limp. A lifelong carnie, Hal was short, wiry, bowlegged, and had more wrinkles, and fewer teeth, than an elephant. The man had one good tooth in his mouth—a nasty, brown thing that looked like it too should have been pulled or fallen out by now. Divine didn’t like stereotypes, but some of the carnies lived up, or actually down, to those things said about them: hard drinking, fast living, rotten teeth, and old before their time. Hal fit every one of those stereotypes. Still, she liked the man.

  From what Divine had read in his mind, Hal had earned every one of those wrinkles, and hadn’t lost all his teeth to rot. In fact, it appeared he’d lost half of them to alcohol-fueled brawls over the years. He was also as honest as could be. He’d tell you flat-out to lock your stuff up or it would go walking. “Finders keepers,” he’d add with a wink, making it more than obvious who would help it go walking. You couldn’t fault the man for that. At least he gave fair warning. Few people did.

  “Your limp is a bit better,” Divine commented as she watched him close
the last few feet between them.

  “Ah-yep.” He grinned at her, showing off his one good tooth and a lot of gum. Running his fingers through his scraggly gray hair, he nodded his head and added, “All thanks to you. That remedy you gave me worked wonders. The gout’s goin’ away toot sweat.”

  Divine’s lips twisted upward at the mispronunciation of “tout suite,” but she didn’t correct him.

  “Another day and I won’t be limping at all,” he continued, beaming, and confided, “Haven’t been limp-free in so long, I’ve forgotten how it feels. And I just wanted to thank ye kindly, Madame Divine. I haven’t felt this good in more than a decade and it sure is nice.”

  “You’re welcome,” Divine said, smiling faintly. She’d noticed the man seemed to be doing more poorly than usual a couple of towns back. It hadn’t taken mind reading to know he was suffering with his gout, and Divine had whipped up an old remedy for the ailment that she knew from her days running with the Gypsies. As he said, it appeared to be working relatively quickly. Of course, it would have worked quicker if he would refrain from red meat, coffee, and alcohol. But that was asking a bit much of the old man.

  Divine could have slipped into his thoughts and controlled him, making him give up the booze and the other unhealthy food items that contributed to his problem, but she had no desire to control other people’s lives. Animals like Allen Paulson were one thing; she had no qualms at all about preventing him or his ilk from harming or killing anyone for financial gain, but other than that, Divine was an advocate of the “live and let live” credo. She didn’t want anyone controlling her actions and behaviors, and had no need or desire to control others. It was her opinion that people who did try to control others were sadly lacking in self esteem . . . and there seemed to be a lot of them. Judging by all the people starting movements to try to get the government to stop this and ban that, they also seemed to have a hell of a lot of time on their hands. She couldn’t help thinking that if they got a job, or a lover, friends, a hobby, or—hell—even a life, they’d be a lot more fulfilled and wouldn’t look to control what others did as a way to satisfy themselves.

  “Well, I just wanted to thank you,” Hal said again, “And let you know your efforts worked before I head out to celebrate with Carl.” He hesitated and then added tentatively, “And see if you maybe wouldn’t want to join us? We’re going into town, McMurphy’s Irish Pub. I stopped there the last time we were in Bakersfield and they have the best ribs I ever tasted. Oak-smoked I think the gal said they were. Real good,” he assured her.

  “Tempting,” Divine said gently. “But no thank you, Hal. You and Carl have fun. No fighting, though,” she added firmly. “If you come back toothless I’ll be mighty annoyed with you.”

  “I’ve no great love for the hoosegow, so no fighting,” he vowed, raising crossed fingers that suggested the opposite. The man was just too delightfully honest, she thought as he added, “At least none we start. Now iffin’ someone in town starts something, we just can’t let ’em walk all over us, you know. But we won’t be starting them.”

  Shaking her head with amusement, Divine nodded and turned to continue on her way, thinking she should keep her phone on. If Hal and Carl wound up in the “hoosegow” and needed bailing out tonight, she’d rather they call her than disturb Madge and Bob. The couple were getting up there in years, and the stressors and trials of running the carnival were beginning to show. If she could make things a little easier for the couple, she was happy to do it. Besides, it wasn’t like she’d be sleeping. She generally only slept an hour or two a day now. Divine had no idea if that was a function of age or worry, and didn’t care. It was just the way it was. Divine had learned over time not to sweat the small stuff. There was enough in life to worry about; the small stuff wasn’t worth fretting over.

  The light was on in the Hoskinses’ RV, which meant that Madge, as usual, had left Bob to handle any last-minute issues that might crop up at closing and had returned to their RV to put on a pot of coffee and make a light snack for them to enjoy while they unwound. It was their usual routine. Madge opened and started the day and Bob closed at the end of the night. Teamwork at its best. At least, it seemed to work for them. The couple had been married thirty years and were still happy and affectionate with each other, which wasn’t unheard of, but rare enough among mortals to be mentioned.

  Of course, while it was unusual for mortals, that was the norm with immortals. Once they met their life mate they were set. Ten, a hundred, even a thousand years later that couple would still be solid and happy together. It was what every adult immortal looked forward to. Divine used to dream of it herself, but that was when she was much younger. She had soon come to realize that the way she lived, having to hide and avoid other immortals, made it pretty much impossible to meet her life mate. She would be alone always, and that was a very long time unless she either got lucky and had a fatal accident where she was decapitated or burned alive, or she went really rogue and got herself executed. Some days, when her Gypsy lifestyle and lack of home and family got to her, engineering such an accident actually seemed almost attractive. So far, though, those moods passed before she did anything stupid. So far.

  Pushing the thought away as she reached the door to the Hoskinses’ RV, Divine knocked briefly, waited for the “Come on in,” that Madge called out, and then pulled the door open and stepped inside. But the smile that had started to lift the corners of her mouth and the greeting she’d been about to offer died as she nearly walked into the greenie, Marco.

  “Oh, there you are, Divine, love,” Madge said cheerfully. “I was just telling Marco all about you. I thought it would be nice if he joined us tonight you two could get to know each other. You have a lot in common. He’s allergic to the sun too.”

  “You don’t say,” Divine murmured, peering solemnly at the man. So much for avoiding the greenie.

  Marcus almost grinned at Divine’s expression. She obviously wasn’t happy to see him, but was trying hard to hide it rather than have Madge notice and have to explain why. He suspected what she wanted most in that moment was to turn and flee, but apparently she couldn’t find a good excuse to do so because she was still standing there, sort of wavering in the doorway.

  “Hi . . . Marco, is it?” Divine said finally. She offered an obviously forced smile before switching her gaze to Madge, where her smile became more natural as she said, “It would have been nice to visit, but Hal stopped me on my way here. His gout is much better and he asked me to join him and Carl in town to celebrate. I would hate to see the old guy lose his last tooth. I just stopped in to say I’m going to bypass our usual coffee klatch to go with them.”

  Correction, she’d come up with an excuse after all, Marcus thought. He didn’t know how much of what she said was a lie. But he was pretty sure she hadn’t planned to join this Hal and Carl in town when she’d first entered the RV. In fact, he was quite sure it was his presence that had decided her to go . . . Well . . . two could play at that game. Putting on an expression of feigned concern, he murmured, “Oh, I don’t think you should accompany those two alone. I suspect once they get drinking, those two old codgers might be a bit hard to manage. Maybe I should go with the three of you.”

  “Oh, that’s a wonderful idea,” Madge interjected as Divine started to shake her head. “I’d worry about you otherwise, Divine, but with Marco there to look out for you, I’d feel a lot better.”

  For one moment, Marcus was sure Divine was going to refuse, but after a moment her shoulders sagged with defeat. Her expression wasn’t defeated, however, but stiff with anger as she said, “Fine. Let’s go.”

  “Stop in when you get back if the lights are still on,” Madge called cheerfully, apparently completely unaware of the waves of anger and resentment rolling off of Divine as she muttered in the affirmative and turned to open the RV door again.

  Marcus offered Madge an especially warm smile as he followed Divine out. He’d known at once that the carnival owner had matchmaking
in mind when she’d invited him to the RV tonight. He could read her thoughts, after all, and after interviewing him that morning and watching him work today, she’d decided he seemed a decent enough fellow—good-looking, strapping, and hardworking . . . a good match for “our Divine” as she’d thought of the woman. He wasn’t interested in a setup, of course, but it had worked well with his intention to get close to Divine and find out if she was Basha Argeneau, the woman he’d been asked to find.

  Marcus found it hard to believe Divine could be the rogue Basha who ran with Leonius Livius. Not after reading Madge’s thoughts. He’d found a lot of respect and affection for the fortune-teller there. But then he’d found that same thing in most of the minds he’d read that day. It seemed that Madame Divine, or Divine as most of the carnies thought of her, came across as a bit standoffish, but was always there to pitch in and help set up when they arrived in a new town, and assist with tear-down at the end of a run when she didn’t have to, and was always there when someone needed help, even sometimes before the person himself knew he needed that help.

  From what he’d learned that day, he knew Divine had been with this carnival for two years. In that time, she’d earned the respect and liking of most of the people here. The few who didn’t like, or at least respect, her seemed to have grudges of one sort or another. One woman was jealous because she was sure the man she was interested in was interested in Divine, while another didn’t like how everyone else thought so highly of Divine, which was something she wanted for herself.

  There were also two men he’d come across today who didn’t have very flattering thoughts toward the woman. One man was the carnival Romeo who had bedded nearly every woman in this outfit—all the single ones and several of the married women. But when he’d hit on Divine, she’d shot him down in no uncertain terms.

  The other fellow he’d come across that day with unflattering thoughts of Divine was a man named Paul. He and his girlfriend Kathy had been with the carnival for a while. Paul had apparently been a good worker until recently when he’d started drinking. Unfortunately, he had a tendency to beat up Kathy whenever he got drunk, which was becoming a nightly routine. Divine had stopped him recently. She’d torn him off the girl, breaking his wrist in the process, probably deliberately in Marcus’s humble opinion. Divine had then explained that if Paul hurt Kathy, or any of the other carnie females again, she’d break both his wrists. Paul had managed to refrain from beating Kathy ever since, but knew it was just a matter of time before he slipped and hit her . . . and then Divine would keep her promise . . . and that scared the hell out of him.