“I’m so sorry to interrupt, but if you don’t come outside right now, I’m going to kill the man you love. Isn’t that right, Nicky?”
Imogene heard him groan, and the line went dead.
Imogene growled and threw her phone against the nearest wall. It shattered, raining down in pieces over her stolen statue of the Virgin Mary, right next to her garden shears. “Why don’t any of our murder plots just fucking work?” she shouted.
“Imogene?” Celia asked, holding her stomach.
“They have Nicholas outside right now.”
“They?” Ian asked, guiding his wife to the nearest couch.
“Olivier and Amora.” She pulled at her hair. “This was not the plan.”
Celia let out a pained shout and looked to be squeezing the life out of Ian’s right hand.
“Oh, at least get a towel, please. I like that couch.” Imogene put her hands on her hips, but nobody moved.
“What are we going to do?” Ian winced, Celia’s hand still wrapped around his.
“We are going to do nothing. I am going outside.” She hurried for the fridge, pulled out a bag of B-negative, and started chugging.
“By yourself?” Celia wheezed through panted breaths.
“Yes, by myself. Heidi, if all this goes to shit, they are your responsibility, you hear me?”
Heidi pulled an impressive array of knives from a sling over her back. “You got it. I’ll kill those motherfuckers, no problem.”
Imogene knew the “no problem” wasn’t true, but why shatter dreams, right?
“Okay.” She tossed the empty bag of blood in the sink and wiped her mouth. “I got this.”
“Imogene!” Celia shouted and gestured wildly to Ian.
He stood up straight and extended his hand to her. Imogene sighed and walked over to the couch, where Celia practically pulled her from her feet by the front of her shirt.
“You’re not leaving me.”
“I have to go outside, Merk.”
“I know, but you’re not leaving me for good. You’re gonna be fine, because I am not raising this baby without your help.”
Imogene nodded and kissed the side of Celia’s head before licking Ian’s cheekbone for good luck. Then, she prepared.
A few minutes later, Imogene stepped into the sticky, horrible summer night. Behind her, Heidi locked the door and set the security alarm. They weren’t taking any chances. They weren’t even calling Dr. Savage and her pretty man boy, because surprises could get people killed. It was all up to Imogene.
Olivier and Amora stood about ten feet in front of her, Nicholas on his knees between them. In what had recently been a clean black suit and white shirt, it was easy to see blood and the harpoon through his chest.
The. Harpoon. Through. His. Chest.
Imogene curled her lip. “Well. How very beachy of you.”
“I thought it fitting.” Amora smiled, dressed down in leather pants and a black leather halter-top. They could have been sisters—a realization that grossed Imogene out.
She took a quick glance at Nicholas, who looked up at her, obviously in pain, duh, but keeping his shit together. He took a shaky breath.
“Look, bitch, I know you’re jealous, but putting a harpoon in his chest really wasn’t necessary.”
Amora cackled, revealing fangs the shape of miniature scythes.
“Imogene, darling, we’re not here to discuss your relationship with our traitor friend.” Olivier kneed Nicholas in the back playfully. “As you know, we’re here for the baby.”
“Are those garden shears in the back of your cheap, pleather pants, or are you very happy to see us?” Amora teased.
Imogene pulled the huge garden shears from their hiding place behind her back. “What, these? They’re just my security blanket.”
“Toss them away,” Amora said. “Or I’ll rip his head off.” She put one hand on Nicholas’s cheek and ran the other through his hair.
Imogene shrugged. “Fine.” She tossed the garden shears between them.
Olivier seemed utterly pleased at this development. He stood tall in a lovely suit of brown and folded his hands behind his back. “Thank you, Imogene, although, after your performance at Euphemia Haye, I don’t think garden shears are your greatest weapon.”
“Tends to be my temper,” she said.
“No, dear.” Olivier shook his head. “Amora recognized that you glamoured me the other night at the bar. Impressive. I didn’t think it possible, and yet here you stand.”
“Want me to make you squawk like a chicken? It’s a specialty.”
“Not if you want him alive.”
Nicholas stared at the ground as Amora played with his hair, as if he were a little boy in need of comfort. The tender moment would have probably meant more if she’d let go of the harpoon in his chest.
“We want the baby,” Olivier continued. “As we understand it, Nicholas told you all about that. He’s always been so loyal. Odd to think he would give up such information so easily.”
Imogene crossed her arms and gave her best I-don’t-give-a-fuck face. “Why do you care so much about a stupid baby, anyway? It’ll probably just vomit all over your nice suits, if its father’s record is any indication.”
“Oh, we actually don’t want just the baby anymore. We’ve come for Celia and Ian, as well. You see, we still don’t know how she got pregnant in the first place. It should be a scientific anomaly, but it happened nonetheless. It’ll do wonders for my reputation—the man who found the first half-breed baby.” Olivier chuckled. “Of course, that was all Nicky’s idea.”
“Yeah, he is kind of an asshole.”
“He’s so much more than that.” Amora put on a fake pout. “He’s a monster. Do you know all the things he’s done?”
“Our murderer. Our kidnapper. Our cheat,” Olivier said.
“He would do anything to save his own skin.” Amora scratched her nails up the side of his throat. “Wouldn’t you, Nicky? It’s why we’re perfect for each other.”
Imogene chuckled. “Yeah, that’s why he literally runs away from your very presence. You’re like a palmetto bug that won’t die.”
Amora let loose a melodious guffaw. “Even if you were going to live through tonight, you won’t live happily ever after with a man like this. He’s probably made you think that he has changed—a good vampire now, yes? But he’s the same, the monster I saw when I made him. A beautiful destroyer. A great lover. A bastard.” She pulled on the back half of the harpoon and Nicholas choked on a scream.
Then, he looked up at Imogene. He looked up at her and… winked?
Imogene kept her expression that of disinterest, but she suddenly realized Nicholas wasn’t half as injured as he appeared. He was ready to rock.
“It would take a monster to love him,” Amora continued.
Imogene wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “Not a monster. A bitch maybe.”
Nicholas smiled. “I love you,” he mouthed.
With that, Imogene kicked the handle of the garden shears in his direction, and things went from chill to Tasmanian devil in two seconds. There was a flurry of motion as Nicholas took on Amora, but Imogene was soon tackled with an “oomph” by Olivier, who snarled down at her in the gritty sand outside her house. Luckily, she’d had the presence of mind to go for her back pocket, so she pushed the electrified key fob to his face and gave him a zap. He flew backwards in a lovely arch and landed with his back against a banyan tree. Imogene turned in time to see…
Nothing. Nicholas and Amora were gone.
“Nicholas?” she shouted. “Where…” She moved toward the beach and listened for the sounds of a struggle. Her search was interrupted by a freight train to the stomach. Imogene choked on air and took tumbling steps back.
Amora, hair a mess and pants torn, stepped toward her.
Imogene tried to duck another attack, but she didn’t move fast enough. She caught a fist to the forehead and fell to one knee.
“Stupid little gi
rl,” Amora hissed. Her eyes were black as tar.
“Where is he?”
“Oh, I don’t know, halfway to New Orleans. I’m not sure how hard I threw him.”
“He’s fast, he’ll—”
Amora kicked Imogene in the chest. “He’s not as fast as me.”
“You know,” she gasped. “You’ve got some real anger issues.”
Amora cackled into the night sky. “I think we could have been friends, you and I, if you hadn’t made him love you.”
Imogene tried to sit up straight, but another kick to her gut flipped her over. She stared up at Amora’s dark eyes, burning with rage. Her red lips were set in a tight line.
“If I can’t have him, he can’t have you.” She reached down and wrapped her fingers around Imogene’s throat. Lifted from the ground, Imogene choked and scraped and kicked, but it was like attacking the Great Wall of China. It was as if Amora played with a stuffed teddy bear. “I’ll give him your head as a gift.”
“Fuck,” Imogene squeaked. Maybe, just maybe, this is really it.
Then, the pointed edges of garden shears lifted the ends of Amora’s dark hair. “Put her down,” Nicholas ordered.
Amora’s eyes looked to the side, seeking the man behind her. “You’re faster than you used to be, Nicky.” She dropped Imogene, who fell like a rag doll into the sand. She crab-walked backwards and watched as Amora, open shears still snug against her throat, turned to face Nicholas.
The harpoon was still in his chest, and he looked windblown, like maybe Amora really had thrown him to Louisiana.
“You couldn’t do it before, darling,” she said. “You won’t do it now.”
“My mistake.”
“No.” She shook her head, shears against skin. “We are connected, you and I. No matter how deeply you bury it, you still love me, my beautiful boy. My Nicky.”
Imogene watched him hesitate. “Kill her, Nicholas!”
Amora’s soft smile turned sour. “You would leave me for this piece of trash? This child? I don’t think so. I am what you want, always have been, and she is a cheap, angry little—”
Snap.
Blood spattered Nicholas’s face as Amora’s head rolled away like a volleyball, taking with it the lingering scent of blue lotus.
“Don’t talk about my girlfriend that way.” He tossed the shears and stood, away from his maker’s headless body. He swayed on his feet and took a stumbling step toward Imogene.
“You saved my life. And you’ve got a harpoon through your chest.”
“Yes. I could use some assistance.”
“Huh?”
He gestured to the sharp end facing her. “Can you pull?”
“Oh, yuck.”
“Please.” He looked sort of like Ian right before a good puke.
Imogene dutifully took hold of cold metal. She gave a little tug, which made Nicholas shriek.
“Bloody hell! Like a Band-Aid, Imogene!”
She blew air out through her mouth, took hold of the harpoon, and planted her combat boot against his shoulder. When she pulled, she pulled hard, and they both fell backwards as the harpoon dislodged with a sickening squelch. She dropped it immediately and crawled over to Nicholas, who fell on his back, panting. She jumped on his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck, which made him, understandably, moan in protest. She kissed his eyes, his forehead, his nose…
“How did they get to you?” she shouted.
“What?”
“How did you end up in a position to get shot by a harpoon?”
“Olivier called. Said there was an emergency Stadium Lamia meeting. I couldn’t not go; he would have known something was wrong.”
“Shit.” She took hold of his suit lapels and shook. “Can’t you be a slacker for one day in your life?”
“They never would have come here.”
“They weren’t supposed to be here. We’re supposed to be at Dr. Savage’s for a dinner party.”
He sat up slowly beneath her. “It didn’t matter where we were, Imogene. I just needed to get them to you.”
Imogene’s brow wrinkled. “You got captured on purpose just to get them to me?”
He lifted one shoulder. “It’s possible.”
“You have that much faith in me?”
“Yes.”
She chuckled. “And to think, I didn’t even use my super glamour powers. All I had to do to Olivier was zap—”
All the breath left her body, like an elephant had sideswiped her, as she went spinning and toppling across the sand with a series of grunts and moans. She shook off the Tweety birds around her head and knelt to find Olivier and Nicholas grappling like wolves, fangs out and eyes blown black.
“Oh, fuck,” she muttered. She jumped on Olivier’s back, but he threw her off like a piece of tissue paper. She missed hitting the house by inches, which would have really screwed up her night, what with the immense electric shock from her security system—which gave her an idea.
Her already injured boyfriend was getting the shit kicked out of him. Olivier, clean cut British gent, head of the SL, was all bared fangs and battering fists. He looked like a drunken frat boy who was about to tear the head right off the man she loved, so obviously, Imogene did the only sensible thing: she thought about sex.
Not just any sex. She thought about sex with Nicholas. She thought of tangled tongues and limbs and thigh-shaking orgasms. She thought about how Nicholas tasted the way he smelled, only magnified, and how he held her after, every time, his nose buried in her hair. She thought of all that, and then…
Olivier’s mouth opened in what looked to be a scream of victory, but instead, off-key, he sang, “London Bridge is falling down!” Olivier covered his mouth, but the singing didn’t stop. “Falling down! Falling down!” He extended his arms to the sky. “London Bridge is falling down.”
“My fair lady?” Nicholas asked from beneath him.
Imogene made Olivier stand. She made him want to electrocute himself, and all the time, he kept singing about his hometown. She didn’t even need to think hard really. She just considered electrocution—and England—and things went her way. Olivier walked, zigzagging, toward her house, casting but a single, desperate glance in her direction.
When Olivier touched the front door, the whole exterior buzzed. He shook and screamed, falling unconscious at her feet.
Imogene kicked his shoulder. “Way to butcher a nursery rhyme. Dick.”
Nicholas rolled to his feet, wincing. “We need to Skype the SL. Right now. Have him confess.”
The front door swung open, and Heidi stood there with a pitchfork. She sniffed. “Thought I smelled barbeque.” She nodded into the house. “She’s going into labor.”
“What?” Nicholas shouted.
“Oh, yeah.” Imogene flailed at Heidi. “That.”
“Bollocks,” he said, just as Ian stepped into the doorway.
“Holy shit, Nicholas, are you okay?” he said.
“Yes, well, I’m—” He tilted sideways, but Imogene caught him.
She put her hand on his face. “Nicholas?” He did look like he’d been through the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. “I thought you were faking it. I thought you were okay.”
“I might have been faking being okay. I need blood. Ian, I need you to call Rain. She and Dean need to take Olivier to their cage for the time being.”
Ian looked around and noticed not only the sizzled vampire but also the headless one, which made him, instantly, vomit.
Imogene nodded. “Good. Get it all out before your wife starts pushing a watermelon through her…” She shuddered.
“Heidi, if you would kindly watch Olivier for a moment while Imogene gets me into the house.”
“Sure, James Bond.”
“I look nothing like James Bond,” he muttered as Imogene dragged him into her house. Once there, at the sound of Celia yelling, he woke up some and walked without her assistance, although he walked sideways, like he needed a V8. “Blood,” he said over his s
houlder.
“Yeah.” Imogene pulled two bags of O-negative, his favorite, and followed him to the couch, where, yes, there were towels, but they were soaked around Celia. Imogene’s couch was going to be destroyed.
Nicholas knelt beside the woman in labor. “Celia.”
She shrieked when she saw him. “What happened to you?”
Nicholas held up his hand. Imogene threw him a bag of blood, and he started chugging. “Deal with me later,” he said between gulps. “We’re dealing with you now. How far apart are the contractions?”
“Contractions?” She breathed and hissed and gulped air. Her bright red locks were painted to her forehead in sweat. “I don’t know! It just hurts!”
“Right.” He dropped his first empty blood bag to the floor. “I’m going to look under your dress, okay?”
Celia nodded and closed her eyes, sucking shallow breaths.
Imogene watched Nicholas’s face as he peered beneath Celia’s mumu. His eyes went wide, and he seemed to have trouble swallowing. “Oh-kay.” His voice came out three octaves higher than normal. “We’re having this baby now.”
“What?” Imogene and Celia echoed.
“Right now. Where’s Ian?”
“Ian!” Imogene shouted, running around like Chicken Little.
Their favorite black-haired human ran back in and threw his cell phone on the floor. “Dr. Savage is on the way.”
“And your wife is about to have a baby. Come on.” Nicholas gestured to a space on the floor next to the couch, which Ian took, shakily. “Celia and I are going to do a lot of the work here, but she needs your support, okay? And Imogene. Each of you take one of her hands, will you? And why are you looking at Ian like that?”
“She’s broken one of his fingers before.”
Celia screamed, as did Ian when his wife’s fingers closed around his.
“Right, okay, uh-huh, Celia,” Nicholas stuttered. “L-l-let go of Ian.”
“Wow, never heard you go Rain Man before,” Imogene said to him.
He ignored her. “Celia.”
When she didn’t pay attention to Nicholas’s words, he had to forcibly peel her fingers from around Ian’s hand. She clutched to the couch cushion instead.
“Imogene.”
She looked away from her best friend and down to the man she loved. His eyes were more green than gold. His forehead was wrinkled, and his lips were parted. He was pretty much covered in his own blood, and he looked to be wheezing.
Bite Somebody Else Page 24