Coffin Fit (The Grateful Undead series Book 4)

by Stec, Susan

  My mate, Marcus, and Dorius were brothers. I could contact Marcus to piss Dorius off, but Marcus was on his way back from a conference in Italy. He'd promised to contact me as soon as the BAMVC jet touched tarmac in Miami.

  My partner, at work, Christopher, walked through the kitchen, past the breakfast bar. "Why are we summoning Raphael?"

  His question saved my mother from answering my original question about Dorius ordering the summoning.

  "It's not time for Lily to come back," Christopher said, wearing a crisp, clean Team Twilight t-shirt, jean shorts, and Count Von Count tennis shoes. He rubbed his wet, blond curls with a yellow hand towel. "She still has a week, our time."

  Christopher was the vampire who bit me in a public restroom last year. He may have appeared to be six years old, but he had over one-hundred vamp years under his Mickey Mouse belt. It was hard to remember when I strapped the three-foot little guy topped off with curly blond hair, a cherub face, baby blue eyes, and chubby legs and arms into a Bob the Builder car seat.

  "Have you heard from Lily, recently?" Mom asked.

  "I just talked to her," Christopher yawned. "Raphael's making her go before Lord Rahovart, Tormentor of the Affluent and Companion of Satan's boss, to apply for an Earth-to-Abyss authorization card. It's a passport kind of thing so Raphael can expedite Lil's trips back and forth instead of you using your witch skills. We're hoping Lucifer turns her dad down because of the tainted blood thing." A smile spread across Christopher's face. "Raphael doesn't look confident. I get a bird's eye view of Hell through Lily's eyes, and I'm betting S-man isn't going for it."

  Lily was Christopher's blood-mate. Don't freak out. It's not what you think. He only fanged her to mark her. He said it was like a human spitting in their food so no one else wanted to eat it. Whatever. It majorly pissed Dorius off, because he wanted total control of the diminutive demon.

  Since they swapped blood, Lily and Christopher had all those mate powers, and neither Dorius nor Daddy-demon could penetrate their minds or manipulate them mentally. I personally thought it was a brilliant move on Christopher's part, even though he had no choice. A possible blood mate's pull was hard to turn away from. I know. I tried with Marcus.

  We usually partnered up for vamp-critter duties but never seemed to do much critter catching. He always worked another agenda, and it almost always made Dorius look like an idiot—fine with me. Did I mention Christopher had a history with every one of Dorius's mates? Don't ask—big brouhahas.

  "You got an hPhone?" Mom asked Christopher. "And it works?"

  I could barely hear Resi's muffled remarks. She was face down on the pillow again. Good thing we didn't have to breathe.

  "Damn right," Christopher said, slinging the hand towel over his small shoulder. "My little woman keeps me in the loop. Which reminds me, did you guys hear about the rogue ring in Italy headed by an Arctic Wolf shifter-slash-vampire? Seems JoAnn's faux pas' found their way abroad and did some nibbling."

  "Of course they did," I said sarcastically. "So, how pissed is Dorius?"

  ~~~~

  Three

  ~~~~

  I trotted into the kitchen, feeling a little lightheaded after putting up heavily lined curtains and taking down a few religious artifacts around my bedroom. Being Italian comes with a healthy dose of Catholicism. I had three crucifixes from funeral coffins alone. Mom was a collector and shared with motherly abandon. I needed a coffin.

  Mom sat in front of the laptop, eyes tight, lips tight, temper loosey-goosy.

  "When was your poor excuse for a husband going to tell me about Italy? Huh, Betty? I'm supposed to get the next rogue mission. Not you! Me! Get his ass on this screen. I'm going to Skype the shit out of him!"

  I could see Dorius's wife, Betty, over Mom's shoulder. Her facial expression said it all, but that didn't stop her from repeating it. "Bring it on, Chickie. Now that I got me some immortality under my corset, it'd be fun dukin' it out with you."

  Being the octogenarian in the family, Mom had several names. Her birth name was Concetta. Mom also had several issues with our new team member. Betty was all syrupy southern outside; inside, she could keep up with the rest of us in the snark department.

  "There wouldn't be no fight. You'd be plastered all over the ceiling. I'd spread you like peanut butter on bread. Now go get your husband, because I'm going to Italy!" Mom spewed spittle all over the laptop screen.

  When Betty stopped laughing, she put away her mocking grin, and said, "Pull your spandex outta your ass, and listen up, Chick. Dorius said I ain't goin' either—the bastard. Only difference 'tween me and you? I get payback. It is what it is. We ain't goin', sweetheart."

  Even though Betty was a vampire, she also had the ability to shift, thanks to one of JoAnn's offspring. She made a great hawk all claws, squawks, and fangs.

  "I'm going," Mom said. It sounded like she said it to get the last word in.

  JoAnn stood beside me in her housework apron, rag in one hand and a can of Pledge in the other, looking ready to pounce, eyes raking the laptop. She tsked at Mom and stuffed the Pledge into a pocket on her domestic tool belt next to a compartment with paper toweling.

  "Oh, you're going, Chick." Christopher snickered, sitting sideways next to the computer on the top of the picnic table. One leg was bent Indian style, foot tucked under his knee. The other hung over the edge, barefoot swinging. "You're going to get your ass kicked if you dump on Dorius today. He's probably pulling his hair out right about now."

  "Yeah? Well, screw him. I'm about to pull mine out myself!" Mom growled at the laptop screen.

  "Just trying to warn you," Christopher said. "I'd hit rewind and start with a smile on my face if I were you." He picked at the cuticle on his big toe for a nanosecond and then smiled at my mother. "I just told Dorius I could get a free—no holds barred—pass to Hell. Satan offered me an irrevocable passport; seems Lord Rahovart, Tormentor of the Affluent and Companion of Satan doesn't want Raphael in charge of his own kid."

  All I heard was a free pass to Hell. My eyes got all beady, and my lips tightened in a circle. He was not going to Hell. I had no idea what he was capable of with Lily at his side. The little demon could scare a blood-bag-glow off your cheeks with her smile.

  Christopher batted toddler eyelashes at me. "Don't worry, Susan. I refused."

  I wasn't buying it. I knew he'd just bought time so he could hook me into whatever plan he'd come up with to further smite Dorius.

  My partner smiled at me like he could read my mind, and added, "For now, anyway. That's why Dorius is pissed. He thinks we should 'discuss the options' of having the Hell pass." Christopher made air-quotes with his chubby little fingers. "Right? Like that is going to happen anytime soon." His eyes tried to collaborate with mine.

  I was so not going to Hell with Christopher. I hated his strategies. The monster tot always emerged like a butterfly from a cocoon and I emerged looking like I'd rather be dead. But hey, my wounds healed, right? And though his glory didn't last long, he was always the better for it.

  I hooded my eyes at him. He laughed.

  Mom made a growly throat clearing noise. "Are you two done?"

  We both smiled.

  Mom snapped, "Betty, go get Dorius's ass in front of the laptop, now. And that's an order!"

  Jeni was running on the treadmill in the living room by the front door. She'd been tossing us amused facial expressions in between sucking down water and wiping sweat from her brow. She said, "Nanna, Dorius always listens if you use your nice voice."

  "When was the last time Dorius settled anything in our favor?" Resi asked. She stared out the kitchen window. Zaire was out at the dock washing their Pepto-Bismol pink, Barracuda.

  Mort, our resident troll waded into the circle of light cast by the halogen lamp attached to a pole at the end of our dock. He stood in the waist-deep water, looking like a big lump of mortar with dreadlocks and a bulbous nose. His mouth was spread in a big grin full of algae-covered teeth.

  The mo
on shimmered on small rippled rings spreading outward on the lake's surface around the troll's bouncing tummy. I could tell Mort's smile was mocking Zaire. I knew she'd asked for it. The troll was really a sweetie, but Zaire brought out the worst in him.

  I turned back as Betty's sharp voice said, "I don't need to get my husband. I just left him. Like I said, neither of us is goin' because, and I quote, 'You girls got a critter problem right here in the U.S. of A'. He told me Sonny and the rest of Stech team, including myself, was going to fix that problem—period. Then he had the balls to ask for a little cuddlin' before I started packin'! I told him he ain't gettin' shit tonight, period. Then you know what he said?"

  "Nix the personal crap, Betty," Mom interrupted. "If you can't keep it business, go find someone who can."

  "Sugar, sex is my business." A smug smile teased Betty's lips.

  And she was right. She'd married and mated for money—Dorius sure had plenty to share—and Dorius agreed, because finding a blood mate had always been about power for him. He no longer worried about another immortal reading his mind or manipulating his thoughts and actions. And he could mentally communicate with Betty from wherever he was in the world. Those are big time powers for a rogue hunter—faster than Verizon and more expensive than AT&T.

  Fangs extended, spittle flying, Mom narrowed her eyes at Betty. "If Dorius thinks you're going to be a member of my team, he's got another thing coming."

  Before Betty could rebut, JoAnn whipped in front of Mom, Windex bottle spraying the screen, paper towel moving lightning fast.

  Mom's fangs retracted, she hissed, and just as quickly, slapped my sister's hand.

  JoAnn slapped Mom back. "Well, you need to keep your fangs in your gums when you talk. It's not good hygiene to spit on things." Her hands flash sprayed and wiped the screen again. This time she got the keyboard and picnic table in front of Mom, too. "All y'all have that problem." JoAnn waved the Windex bottle at us as she speed-walked into the kitchen.

  "JoAnn," Mom said, "don't you need a moisturizing shampoo and another trip to the tanning bed?"

  Jeni kicked up the level on the treadmill, panting in time with her strides.

  "So who is going to Italy?" Christopher asked.

  Mom didn't give Betty a chance to answer. "Look, I was planning a trip to Italy, anyway. I need to find out if Papa's goat farm is still there, and lay claim to it before the government takes it away from my family."

  Resi choked on a laugh.

  Jeni snorted a mouth full of water out of her nose holes. She coughed, wheezed, chortled, and wobbled erratic strides.

  "So who's going?" Christopher asked a little louder.

  "Mom..." JoAnn was giggling in the kitchen. She pulled three blood bags out of the refrigerator and made an attempt at conversation in between her chuckles. "Grandpa moved to America in the nineteen-thirties..." She was laughing hard as she pulled a box of bendy straws from the cabinet beside the refrigerator.

  Whenever JoAnn laughed, her knees smacked together like she might pee, although that didn't happen much with this curse thing, since we started puking whenever we ate or drank real food. Damn Raphael. Although I didn't need food, I missed my morning coffee, and I missed chocolate. Chocolate calmed me. We were turning into a Dark Shadows-slash-All in the Family sitcom.

  Turning back to Betty, I made a mental note to see if the cross over my bed would burn me, especially after JoAnn's episode yesterday.

  Christopher turned the laptop screen in his direction. "So who's going?" He sounded all snotty-nosed-six-year-old.

  Mom yanked the laptop back in front of her and made a V with her first two fingers. She placed them on her eyes and then turned them on Christopher. He laughed.

  I never laughed at Mom's Italian eye curses. I suffered a month of crotch itch after she hexed me one time.

  Betty answered Christopher's question. "The big guns." She'd leaned into the lens on her end. "Chick, your eyebrows are bushin' up. And girrrl, is that gray hair comin' out yer chin?"

  "Raphaellll-ah!" Mom shouted, sounding all Italian. Teeth tight, fist pumping, eyes on the oak flooring, she yelled, "Answer your goddamn phone!"

  Resi burbled a chirp of amusement. "You can always make a trip to Hell, Nanna."

  "Chick would have to get a sponsor because you know Susan; she won't use her witch powers to send her mother to hell. Then Chick'll have to do an Earth-to-Abyss QuestMap on Netherland.com before applying for a visa," Christopher said, watching Mom smite the floor under her feet. "Oh, and don't forget to nail down those reservations; they go missing in a flash the way time moves down there."

  Mom dragged her eyes from the floor to Christopher. She looked like she was going to say something, but my pain-in-the-ass partner didn't give her a chance.

  "Orrr," Christopher instigated, turning from Mom to me, "I could accept the passport, get Chick there on my visa, and put Dorius in a happy place at the same time."

  "My mother is not going to Hell with you," I replied calmly. "I abjure her from Hell. I abjure you both! I don't trust either of you to handle this curse business with Raphael, especially together. Your New Orleans trip was a perfect example of what happens when the two of you go off together on a mission."

  "Hey, what happened in New Orleans—or anywhere near New Orleans—stayed right where we left it, right, Chick?"

  Mom shot him a smile that made me want to probe further.

  Christopher laughed.

  "Nobody needs to go to Hell, because my husband did not curse us," JoAnn sang as she tossed a blood bag to Christopher and me. She held one up for Mom. Mom frowned at her.

  JoAnn's lips curled up sassily. "I know you say you can't drink processed blood, but I think it's all in your head." She gnawed a hole in a bag of blood, filled a shot glass, and added some red powder from a baggie she'd pulled out of her pocket. She did a little swizzle with her bendy straw, leaned over, and snorted the blood in the shot glass up through the straw and into her nose.

  I was about to ask her what the hell that was all about when my blood mate, Marcus, brain poked me. His voice rolled around in my head, along with a partial visual of his feet walking on the tarmac. Darling, I just landed in Miami. I'd fully intended to explain the return trip to Italy later this evening, but am aware you have been ... briefed by Betty.

  Having Marcus read my thoughts, see through my eyes, and talk to me whenever he wanted could be a blessing and a curse. I couldn't block him either—yet. I was just beginning to get the hang of mentally jumping into his head without an invitation. But, because Marcus was as old as Catholicism, he'd had carte-blanche with my freaking head from day one. And then, like an idiot, I let him suck on my neck. We were driving down the interstate at seventy-five miles an hour. I got caught up in the moment and sucked back, and—whallah!—we were mated and he got the package deal.

  Although hearing his voice always had my lower regions all a tingle, a big red flag waved the word BULLSHIT at me. So you are going right back to Italy? I poked back.

  "Screw the stupid curse for a moment," I heard my mother say. "What big guns is he sending to Italy, Betty?"

  Susan, my darling, let me reiterate if I may. My brother insisted I keep the trip to Italy quiet for the moment, but...

  My mate sounded like a cornered, small, furry animal.

  I ignored him.

  Betty continued. "...and Marcus, Dorius, Camillio, and Warren from here, and—bless those dead Italian hearts—they're sendin' five or ten of the biggest an' baddest out wolf huntin' with them." Betty's lips spread across her cheeks, and with exuberance, she said, "Oh, and Zaire."

  ...and I assure you, I fully intended to discuss the mission with you before I left.

  I totally tuned out Marcus. "Excuse me? Did she say Zaire?" I asked with a bit of gravel in my tone.

  "Not like she just got back from her last mission," Resi mumbled from the front window, her hands on her hips.

  Dorius stepped into the screen and edged in front of Betty. "That will
be enough, Elizabeth. I asked you not to discuss either mission with anyone before—"

  Dorius grunted as Betty elbowed him over to one side of the computer screen.

  "She called me!" Betty said, and the tip of her index finger filled the screen.

  I noticed Jeni lowered the speed on the treadmill and her pace slowed. She was looking in our direction with twinkling eyes, and a wicked smile dressed out the lower portion of her face.

  JoAnn was fingering the last of the O-positive from her glass, and making slurping noises as she rubbed the bloody finger on her gums and over her front teeth. She set the glass in the kitchen sink with the straw. Pulling out her Windex bottle and a feather duster, JoAnn headed for the coffee table with the stuffed gator holding up its glass top.

  This time, before I could speak, my mother snapped, "You said I get the next mission, Dorius!"

  "I know I did, Concetta." Dorius usually called my mother Connie or Concetta, the latter when he was wearing his 'all business' face. "However," Dorius continued, "it is paramount we get on top of this before it spreads across another continent. The mission demands immediate attention—experienced attention. The team I handpicked both here and in Italy will be capable of doing the job."

  "What the hell?" Mom said. "We're capable! We've proved ourselves over and over again! Didn't we take down a demon? Didn't we send your dead, evil, first mate back to Hell where you'd sentenced her for eternity? Didn't we send the sorcerer who summoned her from Hell, back to Hell with her? And what about Raphael? Didn't we get my daughter back from the demon, and bust the last rogue case while we were at it? Never mind mentioning Sonny. Never mind we added the first two vampire-shape-shifter deformities to your team?"

  Betty's eyes went all I-want-to-kick-your-ass ugly.

  JoAnn mumbled, "Yep, y'all brought me back alright—smack-dab into the middle of a fire. I left Hell unharmed, only to get torched up here. And then, I was locked in Raphael's gilded cage when the stupid dragon sprayed scummy bayou water all over me, ruined my new dress, and left my burned up luggage smoldering."