Then, she understood: he was terrified.
“It’s okay,” she said. “You got this.”
He chewed on his bottom lip and nodded. “Okay. Guess it’s time to push.”
There was much screaming and gnashing of teeth. Celia only accidentally kicked Nicholas in the face once, which sent him sprawling backwards. Ian, for usually being so puke-happy, didn’t vomit once, and, under Celia’s onslaught, Imogene lost all feeling in her fingers but nothing cracked. Dr. Savage and Dean arrived about halfway through the birthing, and although the good doc wanted to stay and witness history, it was apparent Olivier needed to be locked up, especially with the arrival of Baby Hasselback.
With a final scream and push, the slimy little girl landed in Nicholas’s arms. Imogene took a step back, ready to be attacked by a possible gremlin, but no. The little girl, covered in what resembled alien saliva, just opened big, blue eyes and pointed up at her deliverer. “Nicholas,” she said.
“Oh, bloody Christ.” He laughed. “Yeah, that’s me. Shit.” He looked up at Imogene. “Scissors. I need…”
Imogene didn’t move.
“Babe,” Nicholas said.
“Huh?”
“Will you get me scissors, please?”
“I have garden shears.”
Heidi set down her pitchfork long enough to say she’d grab a towel from the bathroom while Imogene went outside for the discarded garden shears, which they used to cut the umbilical cord. The baby was then wrapped up and handed off to her parents, who dissolved into happy tears, oohing and ahhing as their little girl said both their names and roared a wild guffaw.
Nicholas fell back against the nearest chair and closed his eyes. Imogene made a wide circle around the newborn and proud parents and knelt next to him. She pushed his hair off his forehead and used the edge of her own shirt to wipe the blood from his face. At least Amora’s claw marks had already healed.
“Are you okay?” she whispered.
He smiled, eyes still shut. “Never better.”
“Do you still have a hole through your chest?”
“Oh. Yes.”
“More blood?”
“Please.”
Imogene grabbed a bag from the counter and helped him drink. She kept touching him, petting him. “I thought you were gonna be…” She bit the inside of her lip. “I thought Olivier was going to…”
Nicholas opened one eye and stared at her. “Imogene. Are you crying?”
“No.”
“Come here.”
She buried her face against his throat and breathed him in as his arms wrapped around her. He felt sticky and wet to the touch.
“You really need to change,” she said.
He chuckled, the sound deep and echoing through his chest. “I know. This suit will never be the same.”
“Imogene?”
She lifted her head at the sound of Celia’s voice.
“Do you want to hold her?”
“Geeeeeene!” The baby pointed at her.
“Gah, that’s creepy.”
“She’s your godchild,” Nicholas whispered.
Imogene sneered. “Fine.” She let go of Nicholas and crawled across the floor covered in his blood, where Celia and Ian waited. “Let me see it.”
Celia held the blanketed baby out to her, and Imogene held the little package as if it might explode. The baby wasn’t deterred. She reached out tiny fingers and reached for Imogene’s big, purple hair. She had Ian’s eyes, no doubt, and little tufts of red hair on her pale head. She grinned up at her godmother, which was when Imogene noticed the soft, pink gums in the baby’s mouth, marred only by two itty-bitty fangs.
Imogene laughed like Butthead. “Oh, my God. Cool.”
“Fuck!” the baby agreed.
“I’m gonna teach you so many horrible things.”
Nicholas cleared his throat.
“What? She’s my goddaughter, all right?”
“What’s her name?” Nicholas asked, still reclined against furniture and looking in need of a two-year nap.
Ian and Celia looked at each other and smiled.
“Vivian,” he said.
Imogene knew that name from somewhere. She tapped little Vivian on the nose before shouting, “You’re naming her after a hooker?”
“What?” Nicholas asked.
“The hooker from Pretty Woman. That’s who you’re naming her after?”
Celia rested her forehead against Ian’s chin. “The name means ‘alive.’”
Imogene swallowed back what she wished was vomit but knew was actually a sob. “Oh. Well. Hello, Vivian.”
They had to hurry to beat sunrise. Nicholas took a quick shower and changed into trousers and a clean button-down. All his wounds were healed, thanks to Imogene practically force-feeding him blood. Ian and Celia were to remain at Imogene’s house with Heidi and little Vivian. Meanwhile, Nicholas and Imogene hit the road—and hit about ninety—on their way to Dr. Savage’s house where Olivier awaited them, probably spitting mad on the roof.
Dr. Savage grabbed Nicholas by the shoulders and shook. “The baby! Is the baby—”
“Yes, she’s beautiful and fine and please stop shaking me.”
“Is Olivier awake?” Imogene asked.
“Yes. Dean is upstairs. I’m sure by now Olivier has tried bribing him sixty times.” Dr. Savage led the way wearing, as Imogene expected, her hunter gear: lots of black and a bun that looked like it might pull her dark hair out by the roots.
They stepped out onto the roof, and Imogene cringed at the memory of Nicholas in that cage of death. Olivier paced. His suit was in tatters, partly from his earlier altercation, partly due to the extreme electric shock. His gray hair was super voluminous.
He pointed at Nicholas. “You can’t do this. You can’t kill me. They’ll come for you. They’ll say you’ve committed an offense, punishable by death, murdering an elder.”
“Oh, about that.” Nicholas put his hands in his pockets. “You’re killing yourself.”
“Not bloody likely!” he sneered.
“Well, first, you’re going to confess to the Stadium Lamia that you’re a right asshole and should be killed.”
Olivier tilted his head back and laughed. “Oh, yes, very funny. Very—”
He must have felt the little tickle in his brain as Imogene reached in and fiddled around.
“No,” he said, glaring at her.
“I’ll make you sing Hall and Oates next, and we all know how much they suck.”
“She wouldn’t. She…” Olivier shook his head.
“Look who you’re talking to, Olivier. You kept a file on Imogene, not only because of her talents, but also because of her, shall we say, lax moral judgments.”
She preened. “Thank you.”
“You thought she’d be perfect as one of your worker bees, because she likes being bad. Don’t you, Imogene?”
“Mmm, you should see me in bed.”
Nicholas couldn’t quite hide his smirk.
Olivier shook his head. “It won’t work. They won’t believe it.”
Nicholas leaned closer to the bars and spoke with such pleasure, Imogene thought the words must have tasted good. “Of course they’ll believe it, because who would believe a vampire could be glamoured? Plus, add to that all the evidence I’ve amassed on you over the years, and it’s over, all you’ve done to me. It’s over.” He turned away.
“You’ll never be free of the guilt, Nicky.”
Nicholas froze, but Imogene was quick to step forward and take his hand. “Your life starts over now,” she whispered. “So let’s fry this motherfucker.”
Through the power of Imogene’s love for Nicholas, Olivier was led back downstairs to Dr. Savage’s office and sat right in front of her laptop. Nicholas queued up Skype after telling her the SL dude they were calling was named Dario.
“What the hell kind of name is that?” she asked.
Nicholas smirked. “An old one.”
The crea
k of an office chair announced they had connected to London. “Winsome?” The voice on the other side of the line was, surprisingly, American. “What’s this about? It’s the middle of the day here. You look like shit.”
With Nicholas holding tightly to her hand, Imogene went into their rehearsed speech from behind the computer screen where they would not be seen.
“Dario,” Olivier said. His voice didn’t even shake, although his eyes might have darted a little to the left. “I would like to offer my resignation to the Stadium Lamia, effective immediately.”
“What the fuck, Winsome?”
Imogene liked this Dario character already.
“I have been using the SL for my own gains, with the assistance of Amora Savoy, now deceased. I have murdered, kidnapped, and stolen. I am an asshat.”
Nicholas squeezed Imogene’s hand.
Olivier shook his head. “I am… not a good person.”
Dario sighed. “I know you’re not a good person, but what are you talking about? Murder? Kidnapping?”
“Lord Cuthbert has all the evidence of my misdeeds, and it is under his advisement that I step down as head of the Stadium Lamia and accept a sentence of death, to be enforced by hunters here in Florida.”
“Christ. Is Nicholas there with you right now?”
Nicholas shook his head at Imogene.
“No,” Olivier said. “He is in another room. I wanted to do this in private.”
They all stood in silence, waiting, until Dario sighed. “I never liked you.”
Imogene decided to go off-script.
“I understand,” Olivier said, his hands curled into fists on the office chair. “I hereby step down from the SL due to my extreme douchebaggery. However, in my stead, I nominate Lord Cuthbert as my successor.”
Nicholas just about squeezed one of Imogene’s fingers right off, but she looked nowhere near him.
Olivier continued, “He is a capable, intelligent man with a good heart who will lead the vampire community in the right direction—unlike myself. I have done nothing but stick my thumb up my ass.”
Dario coughed on the other end of the line. “I appreciate the honesty, Winsome, and yeah, Nicholas would make a great leader, although I doubt he’s gonna accept the position. You know how he is—would rather be painting nudes than ruling the immortal world.”
Imogene had no response to that; ergo, neither did Olivier.
Dario’s voice continued, “I accept your resignation and your decision to end your life. There won’t be many who will mourn your passing, but before you go up in smoke, make sure Nicholas gets in touch with me so we can clean this up. And I’ll talk to him about that promotion.”
Imogene made Olivier bow his head. “Thank you.”
“Nice knowing you. Asshat.” The man named Dario hung up with a little beep, and sweat poured from Olivier’s forehead—possibly from straining to fight Imogene’s mind control.
Before anyone could speak, Imogene made Olivier stand and march back up to the roof. Already, the horizon was turning a deep purple, foreshadowing dawn. Dean took great pleasure in shoving Olivier inside the cage and locking it behind him. He hit the switch and electrified the bars, which was when Imogene let go of her mental grasp.
Olivier spun on them and screamed like a little girl. He threw cuss words like arrows and pounded the ground. Then, he wailed and tore at his clothes.
“So much for death with dignity,” Imogene said.
“What the bloody hell was that about me being his successor?” Nicholas asked.
“What? You belong in London. It’d be good for you.” She shrugged. “Fixing things.”
Before he could respond, Dr. Savage spoke up. “Better get inside.”
They all looked at the horizon, the color of dark pink.
“You can’t! You won’t!” Olivier sputtered from his cage.
Imogene snickered. “What can we say, Olivier? Winsome. Lose some.”
He reached for her through the bars, and a jolt of electricity sent him flying backwards, unconscious.
She smiled. “I’ll never get tired of that trick.”
As the sun slowly rose outside, Imogene didn’t consider the smoldering body on the roof—or even the headless one outside her house down the Key. She and Nicholas reclined in the living room on Dr. Savage’s couch, covered by a thin blanket. He spooned her and fell asleep almost immediately. She lay awake much longer, listening to him breathe. She enjoyed the feel of his body against her, the familiarity of it, and eventually went to sleep with her nose happily tucked in his basil-scented armpit.
Chapter Twenty
A week later, Ian and Celia’s house was piled full of people watching Jeopardy!. Ian was winning, but only because Nicholas was in the bedroom, checking on Celia and Vivian. Imogene would have at least stood a chance if she wasn’t so distracted by Dr. Savage and Dean, there to take Nicholas to the airport where a private Stadium Lamia jet waited to fly him back to London.
Ian yelled, “Hadrian’s Wall,” and did a fist pump when his answer turned out right.
Vixen, in a tiny fluorescent pink dress, watched him in awe. She’d recently had a heart-to-heart with her therapist and told Dr. Savage the truth about her late night forays to clubs and her random sex with strangers—which hadn’t gone over too well, especially when it was revealed Imogene knew all about it. Still, Dr. Savage calmed some when Vixen explained she was actually dating someone: Paul, Imogene’s former blood bag. Their lack of intellectual coherency made for a happy relationship, and Vixen seemed relieved to be “herself” again, minus the homicidal tendencies.
When the bedroom door opened, Imogene was up in a flash, shoving past Nicholas, and doing a belly flop onto Celia’s bed, which made Vivian coo, laugh, and clap.
“Geeeeeene!” the baby cheered.
“Gremlin!” Imogene replied.
“Don’t call her that,” Celia said from beneath bed sheets, although she smiled, used to the nickname by then. She handed Vivian off to her godmother.
Imogene took tiny Vivian in her arms and swung her around above her head. The baby was totally into extreme sports and would probably be night surfing next to her father within the next year. Maybe that was why Imogene was, grudgingly, in love with the little critter: she was always up for adventure, whether that meant flying her around the room like Superman or watching Night of the Living Dead. Plus, Vivian said “fuck” even more than Imogene. They were a match made in, well, southern Florida.
The bedroom door closed—probably Nicholas’s attempt to give the three ladies some privacy in a house full of rubberneckers. Seriously, the vampire baby fascinated Dr. Savage. Dean was wary, and Vixen just stared at Vivian, keeping her distance.
Imogene sat on the edge of the bed, bouncing a laughing Vivian on her knee. “What’d Nicholas have to say?”
Celia leaned back into her stack of pillows. “That I need more rest.”
“Duh, Merk. Ian says you’ve barely been sleeping.”
Celia yawned. “We need to set ground rules for Vivian’s sleeping schedule, but it’s hard when she’s supposed to sleep during the day, you know? I guess she’s still figuring out that she’s a creature of the night.” Celia hissed and bared her fangs, which made Imogene laugh.
“What’d he say about the gremlin?”
“She’s in perfect health, he guesses.”
“He guesses?” She stopped bouncing Vivian, which gave the week-old child a chance to shimmy up Imogene’s arm and onto her shoulders.
“Well, obviously, she’s a bit more advanced than other babies her age.”
Vivian clutched on to Imogene’s hair and tugged it as if her head was a steering wheel. “Ow! Cut it out.” Imogene grabbed the baby by the hips and continued the knee bouncing.
“But she drinks plenty of blood. A-positive, like her mom.” Celia smiled, but there was no denying the dark circles under her eyes. “She’s still just sort of shouting names, but I think Ian might have a stroke if she starts b
eating him at Jeopardy!”
Imogene nodded and stared into Vivian’s bright blue eyes. “That will be a dark day.”
“We still don’t know how she happened.”
Imogene quirked an eyebrow. “Oh, who cares? Ian wanted a baby; you have a baby. Maybe it was a wish fulfilled.”
“A miracle.”
“Oh, don’t make it all divine and shit. Let’s pretend you’re in a Disney movie instead. I’m your fairy fucking godmother, and poof! Here’s your baby.”
Celia laughed. “You would be a horrible fairy godmother.”
“And yet, I am the chosen godmother of your progeny.”
“And Ian bought condoms just in case.”
“Good man. Magnums, right?” She winked.
“Imogene.” Celia pulled the blankets up to her nose.
Imogene made funny faces at Vivian, who clapped her hands in response and tried to make a couple faces in return. Even though her skin was pale, she had red, rosy cheeks. She had her daddy’s long appendages and just a touch of baby fat.
“I’m sad Nicholas is leaving,” Celia said.
If there were a record playing in the bedroom, it would have skipped.
“I’m sure you are, too?”
Imogene bounced Vivian up and down.
“Imogene?”
“He’s got shit to take care of in London. What with Olivier no more than ash and Amora’s head popped off with my trusty garden shears, the SL has work to do—and they need Nicholas to play clean up.”
“Don’t you need Nicholas?”
Imogene shot her a glare. “Merk.”
“What?” She twisted the edges of her red hair around her finger. “You love him. We all know you love him.”
“It’s no big deal.”
“Imogene. It is a big deal.”
“The feeling will pass. In fact, the sooner he gets on that jet, the better. Then, things can get back to normal…ish. I mean, we do have a half-vampire baby to deal with, and my business has been—”
Vivian bit her hand.
“Damn it!”
“See,” Celia said. “Even Vivian knows you’re full of shit.”
Bite Somebody Else Page 25