by Stec, Susan
JoAnn tucked the Windex into its rightful pocket and longingly eyed the shot glass in the sink. I watched her push the dirty paper toweling into a white trash bag hanging from her apron and then took out a damp rag. She headed for the television screen for the third or fourth time that night.
Dorius rubbed his goatee with long thin fingers while Mom continued to make her case. JoAnn kept whining about her lost trinkets during the New Orleans crackdown. And Marcus was rumbling impatiently in my head.
"Suck it up, Aunt JoAnn," Resi said, still standing by the window. "I got my bangs singed and my ass fried bringing you home. At least the dragon wet you down."
JoAnn stopped cleaning and shot Resi grumpy eyes.
Betty got Resi's attention. "And sugar, that cab ride sure did turn you fifty shades of pink when you caught your mamma having sex on the back of that Harley." Betty laughed. "And poor Sonny saw the whole thing—had to be embarrassin', right, Peanut Butter Cup?" She laughed again.
I still have that bike, love. Care to give it another whirl when I get back from Italy?
Still ignoring my mate, I grimaced at my misplaced sexual prowess. Marcus and I had been following Betty and Resi when they hijacked Sonny's cab in New Orleans. I was straddling a motorcycle while wearing a wedding dress, my knees hugging Marcus's hips, the road under us creating a comforting vibration. It seemed like a good idea to give sex a whirl. It was a memorable moment . . . for everyone.
Anyway, Sonny turned out to be the rogue we were all hunting. Only, he wasn't one of the bad guys. He was actually trying to stop the bad guys, which were a pack of JoAnn's little creations. Once again, my sister's blunder brought us full circle.
". . .walking around New Orleans, dressed in a clear plastic outfit filled with lime green and bright orange gelatin was no picnic either." Resi was saying.
"You still got that outfit?" Betty perked up. "'Cause I still got thirty-five-hundred bucks burning a hankerin' in my pocket."
"Zitto! Zitto!" Mom yelled in Italian, fingers in a V and pointing at everyone—not good. "Ognuno chiuso I'inferno!"
The room seemed to take a breath, because none of us could. It looked like everyone got the word inferno. She could've been sending us to Hell; I, personally was hoping she was just telling us to shut the hell up. Whatever. She got our attention. We all shut-up, and she continued in English.
"Why am I not going to Italy on this mission?" My mother's words were quiet and slow. That was not a good sign; when her arms shot up, we all bolted behind her faster than the human eye could blink.
"You gonna answer her, sweetie, or should I?" Betty asked Dorius.
With eyebrows fighting over the bridge of his nose, Dorius scowled at his mate before answering my mother. "Yes, while everything you stated is certainly an accomplishment, Concetta—"
"I feel a shit coming on," my mother interrupted, hands safely tucked under her armpits.
I felt a 'but' coming on as I moved back up by Mom.
"Unfortunately, none of those accomplishments were part of any of your missions at the time." Dorius continued. "Your sole assignment was and has always been, to rid us of the immortal animals your clan has created."
Dorius's head bobbed as he glanced at those of us standing in front of the computer screen. I watched his black hair brush the front of his red, silk shirt as he talked, so I didn't have to look at the smirk on his face.
"You have yet to accomplish this." Dorius continued ignoring my mother's hostile expression. "And, in fact, the situation has spread out of control. Therefore, you will have one more chance to redeem yourselves. If you do not succeed this time, there will be consequences. Do I make myself clear?"
Susan, my brother, is very distraught over the situation in Italy, and the issue of Christopher and Lily. I suggest you drink slowly from the bottomless fount of ill-displayed persuasion. The one you are so fond of gulping from when I am around. Get this situation under control before it turns into something I am unable to fix.
Okay, so that was just plain snotty. I not only ignored Marcus, I mentally huffed at him, and, for spite, turned the knife a bit. "So why does Zaire get to go?"
I wish you hadn't asked that question, love. Promise me you won't let your mother throw the laptop across the room.
If Dorius weren't looking so smug, if his eyes weren't twinkling with amusement, I might have laughed out loud at Marcus's comment. Instead, I lovingly slid my arms around my mother's neck and pulled her back to my chest as I stood behind her. She looked up at me. "What the hell is this?"
"I love you," I said, kissing the top of her head.
Jeni choked, spewed water all over the oak floor in front of the treadmill, and ended up falling off the back edge, detaching the small red disk that shut the machine down.
"Look at yourselves," Dorius said.
Darling, be assured that I love you unconditionally. Marcus was tugging at my last nerve. A small thing like aging will not deter my love for you.
Dorius shuddered. "Chick, something horrid is happening with your family. You have age spots everywhere, and your spandex is appallingly displaying every sagging, bagging part of your upper body."
Betty said, "At least ya can't see the condition of her ass cause she's sittin' on it."
JoAnn rubbed smaller, faster circles on the television screen.
Dorius glowered at Betty. "And," he said a little too loudly before pulling his eyes back to the camera lens on the laptop. "Resi has a tube of flesh three inches thick running around her abdomen. Susan—"
"Hey, hey, now!" Resi shouted from the kitchen sink. "We will get this under control."
Jeni was bent over, holding her stomach. "I'm gonna piss myself," she squawked.
I tightened my mother-daughter hug, and said, "What does all of that have to do with why Zaire is going to Italy?"
Shame, you're usually so intuitive, sweetheart.
I really wanted to address Marcus's smart ass remark, but Dorius's voice was deadly.
"Susan," Dorius slowly hissed. "I suggest you check your tone if you want an answer to your questions, because giving you one is purely gratuitous."
My eyelids dug into my corneas. Marcus didn't like it when his brother gave me shit. My mate's anger made me flinch.
"Why is Zaire going, your royal hianus—Sir?" As I clicked the heels of my Doc Martins and saluted, Marcus barked an uncontainable laugh. Thank goodness his brother couldn't hear it.
But Dorius had heard Betty snicker. With eyes calculating and nostrils flaring, he used a cold, sardonic voice. "Zaire is the only member of your clan who isn't falling apart. And might I add that Susan's first summoning started the demon ball rolling, which led to this very curse." One side of his mouth twitched. "I'd be the laughing stock of Italy's underworld if I sent the rest of your team. Besides that, I have no idea where the demon is going with the curse. I have enough to attend to because of your family's shenanigans. I will not babysit that gaffe."
I felt Mom go rigid under my arms. My daughterly hug was turning into a death grip.
JoAnn swapped her damp cloth for a can of Pledge and a dust rag, with a hectic whistle that sounded like the theme songs to Mayberry RFD and Psycho were fornicating in JoAnn's mouth. A heavy fingered spray of the canister in her hand made the air around my sister eerily thick and lemony.
"Screw this!" Mom yelled, wiggling to get loose. "That's it! I'm getting in the fucking car and I'm heading for Miami. I'll show you sons-of-bitches just how immortal I am."
I would've made a boa constrictor proud with my grip.
JoAnn sprayed a stream of Pledge on the oak table beside our leather recliner. "Okay, now, y'all are startin' to sound like trailer park trash," she said, a bit too loud. The cloth ran the table as she mumbled softly, "I will not tolerate the F word from filthy mouth vampires! It's the blood. I swear, it turns Christians into sinners, and good people into women of the night."
"Really, Dorius?" Christopher was saying. "So tell me why I don't get to go this t
ime?" He stood on the bench near my mother and fanned a hand up and down his body. "I may still have an immature body, but now I've got demon blood flowing through my veins. My new powers would be an ass—"
"We've been down this road too often, Christopher." Dorius definitely looked displeased with where the conversation was headed. I wanted to hear about these new powers, but Dorius was having none of it.
Christopher's forehead wrinkled, one corner of his mouth turned up, and he calmly said, "Maybe we could do some talking about that visa if we had time. Seems like nine, ten hours on a plane would be a good start, and then on the way back, we'd have another nine to review your expectations."
Dorius did not bat an eye. Just as calmly as Christopher put forth his proposition, Dorius said, "There is a time and place for everything, my boy, and now is not your time. There would be dangerous ramifications should you take it upon yourself to put our situation in further danger by moving forward on any additional contracts with any creature below. Now, you've taken up enough of our time. Shuffle your little Count Von Count tennis shoes over there." He pointed off screen. "I wish to address the issue the rest of your team has dropped on us."
"Dorius," Mom said, "he may look five." Mom pointed at Christopher, who hadn't budged, but was astutely studying Dorius's image on the laptop. "But you're the one acting like a spoiled brat. Your management skills suck bilge water. You're totally a . . ."
Susan, ask my brother what your team mission is. It may settle your family somewhat if you could just—"
Nip it! I mentally pushed. Drizzling venom on my words, I said, Your brother is an asshole and now you made me miss my mother's shining moment.
Marcus had authority in his words as he mentally pushed My brother is more distraught than I have ever seen him. A major event since we have been immortal for over one thousand years. Ask my suggested question before he sends his rogue hunters to round all of you up and toss you into the sunroom at BAMVC!
"What's the mission Betty was talking about?" I blurted. "And who are you leaving to run BAMVC? I want to know who we take orders from." I better not hear a snicker, fang-boy, or I'll be driving my mother to Miami with some major attitude of my own.
I felt Marcus's sigh inside my head. You will not make it in time. The jet leaves in thirty minutes. But I am willing to discuss ways to soothe your anger while I am in the air. Will it help if I go over, explicitly, what you, your body, and your-
"Screw Betty's mission!" Mom said.
I snickered. How about you go it alone? I've got a migraine. Its name is Mother.
"I'm going to Italy!" Mom shouted and sprang loose. She grabbed the laptop before I could and lifted it over her head. It was the fifth laptop that year. I kept telling my mother to toss pots and pans—we didn't use them, anyway—and reprogramming a laptop was a pain in the ass.
We all froze except JoAnn. "Don't you dare throw that! I just washed the screen and used the canned air to blow the keys free of dust!"
Dorius's voice wafted down from above our heads. "Dennis will be in charge in Miami. Jeni and JoAnn will be doing ground communications with individual teams in the field."
Dorius paused. I looked up. His brows were holding each other over the bridge of his nose as he asked, "Was that wolf head always mounted by the fireplace?"
Mom lowered the screen until it was directly in front of her face. "Yeah, but I'm gonna trade it out with the head of a prick."
"Figuratively or literally?" Dorius asked.
"Both," Mom said.
Dorius smiled. "Large packs of the infected animals follow Sonny—our trip to New Orleans confirmed that—therefore, use him as bait to create masses. You have all witnessed what looks like alphas in individual groups communicating orders to the masses. The fact that they form packs and follow Sonny is confirmation of this. So organize, use Resi to manipulate the leader's minds, and then train them to help hunt and kill the other immortal animals. If this does not work, mass murder will be your only option; congregate and destroy."
I thought about the day three Jehovah Witnesses came to our door. A herd of immortal animals formed a little Conga line around their car after the raccoon and squirrels tossed chirps and chatters at each other. They definitely communicated that day. The raccoon JoAnn originally bit seemed to be their leader, too.
"If we can get the individual packs under control," Dorius said, "you can cull the herds and train the most receptive. The rest must be eliminated; in this field, Chick is in charge. Paul will be communicating your progress, through Dennis, to us. Christopher and Resi will guard, train, and care for the captured alphas."
Dorius shifted his gaze and locked eyes on Christopher. "And Christopher, I want you to keep an eye on Sonny." His eyes scanned the rest of us in front of the laptop. "Are we all on the same page?"
Mom perked up and set the laptop back on the table next to Christopher. "I bet I can get my country under control first. You cocky enough to bet me?"
"I don't think that is necessary, Chi—"
"Yeah, right. You're chicken!" Mom boisterously challenged.
"Very well," Dorius agreed, eyebrows elevated. "If you take care of your half of your family's blunder, you get to keep your heads. I'll even throw in a 'no day in the sun' clause. I hear you are becoming completely sun sensitive."
I noticed JoAnn's reflection was washed out on the sliding glass door. It disturbed me. While I was trying to shut out Marcus's chuckles, a mental list was forming: Take down all crosses. I'd have to use the asbestos gloves Mom had bought for the hPhone before Raphael removed the 'burn you' clause when JoAnn was returned home. Buy downstairs window treatments—we only had sheers up now. Bring out the coffins. Mom had ordered us each a coffin; one of her campaigns to get me to sink my fangs into her neck when no one wanted to turn her immortal. Mom had used one from the day they arrived, undead or not. Well, we did bury Tootles—my first meal and JoAnn's treasured toy poodle—in JoAnn's coffin when she refused to use it. We'd have to dig that one back up at night or order another.
Christopher was tossing me facial expressions that suggested I pay attention.
Jeni walked briskly past us. "Getting in the shower. Paul's coming by," she sang on her way through the kitchen.
"Go get your team ready, Concetta," Dorius said. "We are leaving in twenty minutes and I've yet to—"
"Properly say goodbye to your mate." Betty had finally found her voice. She tugged at Dorius's sleeve. "I might be ready to give it up if you leave me the Amazon card."
"What about Gibbie, Dorius?" I was ignoring Betty and watching Jeni bounce down the stairs to the shower. I wasn't fond of her dating Paul, the resident werewolf.
"Gibbie will be at your disposal in a few days," Dorius answered. "He's still at the Faery Ring Retreat in the Everglades. But Paul, Mort, and Jake are available immediately."
"Oh, hell no! Not the dragon!" Mom shouted. "I just got the fart smell out of the furniture!"
Jake was a shifter and part of our team. He had flatulence problems, which was major if you were a dragon. We scared him and that exacerbated the issue. The farting was obnoxious, but the fire burps were lethal.
Christopher laughed gleefully. "I can't wait to see what new magic Gibbie brings back from the annual Over the Rainbow, Pixie Dust, and Elf Spells convention."
My head jerked toward my partner. He smiled at me. First I heard of a Pixie-Elf convention. Anything I should be worried about, Marcus? I mentally pushed as I smiled at Christopher.
Not usually, darling, he pushed back, but this yearly event frequently generates a series of practical jokes; mostly itch, rash, and sneezing powders, and silly spells that fade quickly. Just be on your guard for skin eruptions, stomach problems, or unusual behavior from your family members.
You've met my family, right? I pushed, eyes scanning the motley clan in my living room.
Marcus laughed, and a picture of the entrance at BAMVC flashed behind my lids. Marcus was entering the office building. A few seconds l
ater, my head felt lighter and I could tell my mate had shut me out. Damn, I wish I could do that!
"Anybody home?" Paul's booming voice came from the foyer.
"Ah, is that the wolf I hear?" Dorius asked. "I believe it is. Excellent! Since he has been briefed, I'll sign off. I have a plane to catch." The screen on the laptop turned a dull gray.
Paul strutted into the living room right off the cover of a bestselling paranormal romance novel. He wore tight jeans, tight black tee, shit-kicking cowboy boots, long black hair, sky blue eyes, and a wolfish smile. "Where's Jeni? I have a deep rooted desire to howl the night away with the best looking woman in this family."
I had a deep-rooted desire to rip his throat out.
~~~~
Four
~~~~
BAMVC's jet flew over the Atlantic as Dorius's fingers tickled the keyboard on the laptop in front of him. He'd angled the screen so it reflected his image, allowing him to admire himself as he worked. He wore a black shirt, black jeans, and a leather bolo around his neck with an ornate, hand-tooled, silver heart cinched under the collar.
Goatee recently trimmed, Dorius worked his lips to get different angles of the clean, tight, black line of hair decorating his lower face. As he typed a memo to the Italian Council, his teeth worked his lower lip and hardened a chiseled chin. Dark jet eyes flashed veins of red across his irises.
Dorius stretched his legs, crossed charcoal boots at the ankles, and silver tips caught the gold lighting along the walls of the main cabin.
Marcus reclined in one of the leather chairs across from Dorius; feet stretched out and decked in worn brown leather boots. A tight pair of blue jeans, a brown belt, and a long-sleeved white dress shirt that was unbuttoned at the collar showed off his physique. "Tell me again how it came about that one of JoAnn's creations made its way to Italy, Dorius."