Gator Baitin' (The Grateful Undead series Book 2)

by Susan Stec

  "All purely fiction," Marcus said. "We have an impressive library and it's at our disposal. I suggest we use it."

  "Well, we're not going to use it," Christopher said. "Look around, make sure we're not missing anything. I'll run out and get the camera."

  Christopher was all business too, clearly making it known who was in charge. Looking like a stubborn toddler, he headed out the door.

  I pulled drawers open on the bedside tables and found nothing exciting, just the cursory Bible, not even any stationery.

  Marcus studied the surface on the small table near the front window—burgundy curtains haphazardly hung above, dirty and worn. He ran his fingers over a chair sitting by the table, bringing them to his nose. Rubbing his fingers together, he moved to another chair.

  Walking closer to the bed I got a good look at the naked mattress. I was searching for stray hair. The woman we found gutted was blonde. The man had brown hair. I was looking for black—Pastor Julie, black. I combed the bed and surrounding floor to no avail.

  "The forensic team did a damn good job here. I can't find a thing," I told Christopher as he strutted back in the room.

  "I found a fake fingernail in the parking lot out back. Didn't the pastor have fake nails?" Christopher held his prize up to my face. He was holding it with two fingers on the outside edges.

  "Hell, I don't know, you were the one with her hands all over your head. And did you see all the cigarette butts in the lot? They're covered in red lipstick. It seems like the choice of color for the women that frequent this place." The bright red nail did look like a perfect match to the red lipstick I remembered the pastor wearing.

  "Wonder why the police left this? Doesn't seem smart." Christopher had a frown on his face as he studied the fingernail.

  "Did you just hear what I said? The whole parking lot is covered with red lips. They aren't paid to do trash pickup. Where exactly did you find the nail?" I gave him a look reserved for an inappropriately inquisitive five year old.

  "Back window with the red nail polish scaring the ledge You think she climbed in like we did?"

  Suddenly he didn't seem so toddler like. I was searching for something ego building to say when Marcus interrupted.

  "Christopher, come smell this. You were close to her. Did you catch her scent?" Marcus held his fingers out for Christopher.

  He walked over dramatically, jerked his head away from the extended fingers, and scowled. "You wash your hands lately?" he asked, turning to look rudely at me.

  I guffawed.

  One of Marcus' eyebrows went up.

  "Come on. It was funny." Christopher chucked, then leaned in and sniffed. His eyes got big and round. "Shit, that's her! I'll be damned. It smells just like her."

  "Let's get some pictures. We can get the fingernail analyzed at BAMVC the same time as the pentagram. I'll overnight everything on the way home. I bet Dorius already has DNA samples on Julie and everyone in the family. We quite possibly could have a positive ID by tomorrow." Marcus walked into the bathroom, came out with a square of toilet paper and held it in front of Christopher.

  "Ohhh, no you don't! I said we'd handle this." Christopher carefully dropped the nail in the pocket of his shorts. He leaned over the pentagram, bending at different angles, lighting the floor with the flashing camera.

  "Was that a ploy to get Dorius involved?" I hooded my eyes. "If it was, it's not working, Marcus."

  "Susan, I gave you my word, my brother will have no knowledge of this. The employees deal with a lot of forensic evidence. This will be just another piece of work for them. I assure you they will come to me with the results, not Dorius, if I order them to do so. You both seem to have forgotten. I am the head of BAMVC. Not Dorius."

  "I don't like it. What do you think?" I turned to Christopher.

  "Me neither. Dorius is head of the Rogue Hunters, Marcus." Christopher shoved the camera in another pocket.

  "Uh-huh, we'll try it your way, Christopher," Marcus said. "I suppose you're going to use the local police department to check the fingernail for DNA?" Marcus taunted. "And of course they would probably also be more than happy to develop the pictures, and I'm sure they'll have no problem analyzing the pentagram symbols either."

  "Fuck me!" Christopher blew a sigh and tossed me a defeated frown. He turned his pocket inside out over Marcus' outstretched palm covered with the square of toilet paper.

  "Crap," I had to start trusting Marcus sometime.

  ~~~

  Chapter 8

  Blood on your face

  A big disgrace

  ~~~

  We'd barely walked through the front door when I heard the Suburban pull up in the drive. Christopher scampered into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. "Anybody else want a blood bag?"

  "I'm good."

  "Marcus?" Christopher shouted.

  "No thank you, Christopher. I'm fine for the moment." One side of Marcus' mouth quivered.

  "Wipe that look off your face," I said. "We're still not getting Dorius involved, Plasma Breath."

  His eyebrows waggled. "Not to worry, Iron Maiden, I was only wondering if you realized why you were not blood-hungry?"

  "Iron Maiden? Where the hell did Iron Maiden come from, Lust-For-Brains?"

  "Just trying to keep up, Muffin-Breath."

  Christopher was tsking in the kitchen, damnit. I focused on his mouth because if I looked into his eyes, I was gonna throw something at him. One eyebrow arched, lip curled, I was trying to dredge up some kickass snark.

  Marcus fought a smile. "I believe back in the woods at the motel you so eloquently stated that you were ready to proceed further into our relationship. I assumed you meant sexually, since we previously agreed on only a blood exchange. I thought name calling was part of the ritual."

  "Marcus, maybe you need to see if Sealy manufactures a Posturepedic coffin with a Vampedic mattress built to support all the afterlife that happens in bed." Christopher slapped a bag of blood to his to his fangs.

  Marcus's left brow did a little lift and bow.

  I was trying to dig up a witty response when the front door opened with a bang.

  "Hey! Did you guys hear? Resi and Zaire brought that guy in today, the one that's playing with demons," Mom said, throwing her backpack on the couch.

  Christopher shot me a warning glance. He deposited the empty blood bag in the trash under the kitchen counter on his way into the living room. Marcus and I followed.

  "What guy? Where did they find him?" I asked, as Paul, Jake, and Gibbie passed through the front door.

  "It seems this one really has Dorius' undead heart pumping," Paul said. "The man they caught has some history with a pastor he's been trying to get his hands on for years." Paul laid his walkie-talkie on the picnic table in the dining room, sat down and cranked up the computer.

  Christopher jumped to attention. "Let's hear it! What pastor?"

  "The pastor shit's the least of it," Mom said. "This guy's a real Vampire Hunter. He even wears the fangs of the vamps he's offed around his neck, for crying out loud."

  Gibbie squeaked, "Yeah, and guess what his name is?" He buzzed around me, making my hair fan out, clearly looking for a prompt.

  Christopher beat me to it. "So are you going to tell us his name? Jesus, you sound like a band saw."

  Gibbie landed on his shoulder, grabbed his ear and screeched, "Evil. Ha, ha, ha, can you believe it? He calls himself Evil."

  "Just Evil?" I asked, giving Marcus a look that clamped his mouth down.

  "It's spelled EVAL, and his last name is, get this—Reborn. That’s E V A L R E B O R Y N. Get it? Evil reborn?"

  Christopher swatted at him. "I got it. What about the pastor thing?"

  "Chick, you're doing that thing with your teeth again," Jake whined.

  "Oh, will you get over the frigging teeth sucking thing!" Mom huffed over to the picnic table.

  "Sorry, it makes my inner scales crawl," Jake replied, sulking over to the couch and flopping down with his han
ds over his ears.

  "Is there something wrong with your teeth, Concetta?" Marcus asked with a concerned look.

  "Not a goddamned thing. I just ate one of Susan's chocolate caramels, and it's stuck in my teeth. Here," Mom said, shoving a Wal-Mart bag at me. I peeked inside at the box of half open Whitman Samplers.

  Although I really hated her passive-aggressive way of saying I should stay away from sex—sex leads to a relationship—a relationship leads to control—losing control leads to bitchy—I couldn't blame her for trying.

  On the couch, Jake cringed. "You suck like that all the time, Chick—even when you don't eat—especially when you drive."

  "I don't think she's going to need those, Concetta," Marcus said, eyeing the chocolates.

  Jake Squee'd. "Chick! Te-eeth! Sucking! Sucking!"

  "Jake, shut the hell up!" Mom turned her anger on me. "Just eat the frigging chocolate, Susan."

  Marcus plucked the box of candy from the bag. "Alright, Concetta, I promise I'll make sure she has a few of these every night, right after we—"

  I kicked him in the shin and did the zippered-mouth thingy.

  "Okay, so can we just put Chick's teeth and your damn sex life on hold for a minute?" Christopher asked. "I want to get back to this demon guy."

  Paul smiled and leaned into the laptop. "Hello JoAnn, anything new on Mr. Reboryn?"

  JoAnn's cloying voice floated from the computer. "Have you heard him speak yet? He really makes no sense at all. Dorius is questioning him downstairs, and—"

  JoAnn was pushed aside. Jeni's smiling face replaced hers.

  "Woohoo! Ready to ride-um bullvamps and vampettes? This mission tickles the hell out of me. Aunt JoAnn and I have already made popcorn." Jeni's smile covered the whole screen. I could see the fillings in her back teeth.

  "I don't ride animals. I shoot them," I said. "By the way, anyone trying to suck on your neck down there?"

  Jeni's lips moved in a garish grin. "I work with immortals that respect my life choices, Mommy Dearest. Speaking of respect, the girls got their man. Dorius is tooting horns," she said, then sang, "They're officially Rogue Hunters now, Susabella."

  "Yeah, well, we'll just see about that!" I yelled. Screw Dorius. I was going to find this Demon and make him look like a jerk.

  Marcus got my attention, apparently reading my thoughts again. I shook my head at him. His eyebrows formed one long line in the center of his forehead.

  Paul cleared his throat. "Jennifer, sweetie, can you patch us into the interrogation room?"

  "She can do that?" I asked, all excited.

  Christopher stepped up to the computer. "She sure can. How 'bout cutting us in the loop, girl?"

  Jeni's face moved away from the screen, replaced by JoAnn's. "Jeni has them pulled up on her screen. You'll have to switch over to her connection." She was taking communications liaison seriously. Too seriously.

  Paul hit a few keys and the boardroom flashed on the screen. A dark-skinned man sat on one side of a long metal table, Dorius on the other. Everyone tightened up near the laptop.

  "I dun toll ya, I ain't killed no-body, bro." He wore a navy tank top hanging loosely over faded jeans. A lack of jewelry accentuated the tattoos that covered his arms and neck and continued down into his shirt. Head shaven, he looked like a bronzed version of Mr. Clean sitting across from a long haired Errol Fynn.

  "Look, Mr. Reboryn, unless you start talking about Pastor Julie, I'm afraid I'm going to have to squeeze you a little. You know what I am, don't you?" Dorius asked in a calm voice.

  "My ass done jack lately—whip—she, back in da day, true dat, but no shit, I ain't done notin' wit da bitch since long-time, man. Ain't seen da pastor in years, bro." Eval looked into Dorius' face and rubbed his stubbly chin. He sat with one butt cheek on the corner of the chair, one arm hung over the back, long legs splayed out in front of him. His toes curled, holding on to a pair of worn flip-flops, heels sliding off the sides onto the floor.

  We all stood, riveted to the laptop. Dorius leaned in closer to Eval. "Mr. Reboryn, let's talk about your connection with the Pastor and what she has to do with this demon you work for. If you don't respond with something that makes me smile in the next ten minutes, I'll ask a few of my friends to join us, one in particular who is adept with chemicals designed to help you remember. It will not be very comfortable for you. Get my drift…bro?"

  We collectively sucked air, leaned in, and waited. Gibbie strutted back and forth in front of the keyboard. Mom's mouth was in Venus fly trap mode, eyes captivated.

  The black man smiled. "Look, here's da thing, alright, better listen up reeel good, 'cause I'm only gonna say dis once. True dat. My ass been busy trespassing lately, ya hear, there's good bucks in it. I ain't seen-er in years. Ain't fucked wit da dead in years. Ya feel me, bro?" He waved his free arm around as he talked the other still leaning over the chair.

  "How did you meet Pastor Julie?" Dorius asked, back straight, eyes crystal clear and oh so deadly.

  "Her momma knew my daddy. We stuck ta-gether in da church. Used to play toys with da kid, feel me? One game leads to da other." He shook his head. "True dat, bro. True dat."

  "Who summoned up the demon?" Dorius questioned, curtly.

  "Her momma an' my daddy dun it. He's all up on dat Haitian shit. We watched. Feel me? We played dat game, bro. Teach me well. True dat." Eval scratched his armpit, almost sliding off the chair as he leaned forward, eyes locked on Dorius.

  "Is she still working with this demon?" Dorius asked.

  Now here was the question I wanted answered. Christopher moved in closer. Marcus cleared his throat.

  "Hee, hee, hee. Now dat da question. I told ya bro, I ain't seen-er in years. Ya got ta ask 'er. True dat." Eval grinned, slid back in the chair, let go of his naked armpit, and ran a palm over his bald head.

  "Mr. Reboryn, it's time to bring in my friend." Dorius got up, glaring at Eval. He walked towards the intercom on the wall.

  "Gonna tell ya, bro, fuck wit me and I call a friend. You gettin' nowhere wit dat shit. Feel me? Dis friend, he one bad ass muthafucka. You fuck wit me, you fuck wit him."

  Dorius pressed a button on the intercom. "Warren, call the doc and get everyone's ass in here."

  The door opened with a smack. Ten armed immortals rushed in, hands held over holstered weapons, ready to pounce. Four of them immediately placed themselves directly in front of Dorius, guns drawn.

  Eval threw up his hands, fingers drawing wards, mouth mumbling a chant. The rest of the immortals fell on him as he shouted, "RAFIAL! IN DA NAME OF EVAL, I SUM—" until one stuffed his mouth with something, another taped it shut.

  The doc walked calmly into the room and stuck a needle in Eval's arm. Someone cuffed his hands, and another one pulled out a shiny bag, putting it over Eval's head. The bag was pulled down, covering his whole body. Over muffled screams they tied off the bag with something that looked like an industrial-plastic zip tie.

  "Take him to the holding cell, strip him down, keep his hands cuffed, and see to it that he can't use his voice." Dorius looked down at the wiggling bag, toed it a few times and said, "Feelin' me, now—true dat."

  The immortals dragged Eval out of the room looking like a bagged turkey ready for the oven.

  Mom said, "I hope everyone was paying attention to the team work, because that's exactly what I expect from all of you tonight at the rodeo."

  "Remember, it's cowboy night. Dress appropriately," Jeni sang from the laptop.

  "Chick! Te-eth!" Jake wheezed.

  "Oh, for crying out loud." Mom headed for her room, loudly sucking her teeth.

  Gibbie cackled. Jake cringed. Paul shook his head. I just wanted to take a shower.

  Christopher watched the computer screen with a blank look on his face.

  "By the way," Marcus said, picking the camo colored walkie-talkie off the table and shaking it at us. Everyone stopped and gave him their attention. "Although amusing, this is one of my brother's obnoxious jokes that impede p
rofessionalism. I brought state of the art communication systems from BAMVC. The earpiece and transmitter are wireless. You can either tape the microphone to your body or clip it inside your clothes. I thought you might want them now, before you get dressed for the evening. Let me show all of you how they work."

  Oh, now that just rubbed every nerve in my body raw. "Where the hell does that asshole get off acting that way? I am so sick and tired of his crap. Where's the goddamn phone? I am gonna give that bastard a piece of my mind!" I ranted, sounding like a drunk in a barroom brawl.

  Gibbie was dusting again. I threw a small pillow from the couch at him. He ducked it, whizzing off in another direction.

  "Whoa, Red, lighten up, it's funny," Paul said.

  "I'll give you funny! I am not someone's idea of a joke. I'm gonna bitch-slap the bastard!" I threw another pillow at Paul.

  "See, give her a little nookey and she starts throwing things. Next she starts eating everything in sight. Hand her the damn box of chocolates!" Head down, arms swinging, Mom headed up to her room.

  ~~~

  Chapter 9

  Cowboys are frequently, secretly fond of each other~~Ned Sublette

  ~~~

  After my shower, I was sitting on the porch in my bathrobe when Christopher walked out.

  The first thing I noticed was his bright red cowboy boots with black and white smiling Mickey Mouse heads all over them, and silver tips on each toe. He had on baggy denim cargo shorts resting two inches above the boots, a red checked shirt tucked into them, cinched at the waist with a black belt sporting a big silver Mickey buckle. A black baseball cap with a Disney logo sat backwards on his head, long yellow curls sticking out around his ears. I couldn't help but laugh.

  "Your mother went shopping. Go ahead. Laugh now, because your clothes are lying on your bed." Christopher said, cutting me off mid-laugh.

  "If she thinks I'm gonna wear something like that, she better not hold her breath." I slapped the arm of the patio chair.

  "We're in Florida. Suck it up. We're playing tourists."