Coffin Fit (The Grateful Undead series Book 4)

by Stec, Susan

  Marcus sighed and took the man's outstretched hand. "Ouesto e accepttabile," he said politely, shaking an agreement.

  "And if we arrive before you," Dorius added, "I will leave the keys with the harbor master, Capito?"

  "Si." The man nodded at both brothers as he accepted a thick white envelope from Dorius.

  A few minutes later, Marcus was flipped keys to a lime-green Lamborghini Superleggera while Dorius got into a four-wheel drive Rayton-Fissore trailering seven bright green, yellow, and red Viper quads.

  "Super legger my left nut," Warren grumbled. "No fuckin way my ass is fittin' in this poor excuse for an automobile, never mind my legs." Warren was standing on the passenger side of the Lamborghini, white knuckling the open door. "Jesus, it looks like something out of a sci-fi movie."

  Marcus adjusted the seat and slid in behind the steering wheel. "Superleggera isn't referencing legroom; translated, it means super light. There's plenty of leg room with the seat all the way back. Give it a try."

  "Super light—no shit! Damn car looks like one of them kid toys you use a remote control to power up," Warren said, grunting his way into the passenger seat. "We get a tinker-toy; they get an all-terrain vehicles. I swear, your brother hates me 'cause my neck is red."

  * * *

  "Why the hell did you leave the bingo parking lot?" Zaire's body was stiff as a board, her arms straight by her side, hands balled.

  "Nanna, you were not supposed to kill Randy!" Resi jerked a penlight away from the emaciated body of the old man naked on the floor of the butcher shop in Walmart. She glared at her grandmother. "Getting rid of him now is going to be almost impossible."

  "What the hell were you thinking, Chick?" Zaire asked. "You just waltzed out the back door of Bingo, got in my fucking car—the one that sounds like a frigging bull in heat—with this guy, and drove to Walmart to suck on his neck? Without even telling us? How did you get my fucking keys?"

  "Resi gave me the keys," Chick said. "I was just going to get in the back seat and—"

  "La-la-la-la-la-la!" Resi sang, ears covered.

  "I spent twenty bucks on a cab to get here," Zaire growled. Her gray eyes had streaks of lightning flashing through the iris. "You are so fucking paying me back!" She paced in front of the body, staring at the one-way glass separating the butcher shop from the meat coolers in the body of the store.

  "We can't leave a goddamn drained body for the authorities to find," Zaire ranted, scanning the chilly room. "Is there a door out of here? Thank God it's the middle of the fucking night! At least the goddamned department is closed! How'd you get him in here, for Christ's sake?"

  "We walked in." Chick grabbed a plastic apron from a hook on the wall and wrapped it around the white coat she'd just donned.

  "Tell me why the hell you came here." Zaire's nostril's flared. "Could you be any more public? Goddamn it, Chick, he's dead!" She paused while the family octogenarian nimbly picked up the naked man and laid him on a metal table.

  Zaire's hand slapped metal. "And now he's lying on a friggin' butcher's table." She raked the hair off her forehead to the crown of her head. "Jesus, Nan. Are you getting senile? You just don't get it!"

  "Vaffanculo!" Chick said. "The shit I forgot, you never even knew!"

  Resi mumbled, "I don’t think dumping a cadaver in a shopping cart and walking out the front door is an option." Her eyes scanned the naked dead guy.

  "Resi," Chick said, "for someone so smart, you certainly act stupid. Of course we can’t stick a body in a shopping cart and push him out the front doors."

  Resi's grandmother wiped the blood from her mouth. "Did I ever tell you I used to be a butcher?"

  Resi winced.

  "Oh, hell no!" Zaire said.

  "When your mother was a kid in Bridgeport, I worked at King Coles and I used to cut up the beef." Rubber gloves snapped as Chick pulled them on.

  "I'm gonna go punch something, and then I'm gonna check the rest of the area for a FUCKIN' exit," Zaire said. "And when I find one, I'll pull my fuckin' car around back and pick up your fuckin' asses."

  "Won't need to," Chick said.

  Zaire growled at her as she stomped away, big clunky boots giving the floor hell. "Friggin' taxi ride cost me twenty bucks," she mumbled. "Two miles—twenty goddamned bucks."

  Resi's grandmother said, "We used a large handsaw back then, but now they’re electric." Chick plugged in a saw. "We’re going to cut this poor old guy up, grind him into little pieces, and dispose of him."

  "Where?" Resi squawked. Horrified, she looked above the butcher table at a large roll of plastic wrap sitting next to white Styrofoam platters. "Pah-leeese tell me we are not wrapping ninety pounds of human meat and bone in cellophane, sticking price tags on it, and wheeling it through a register in that basket?" She pointed at a shopping cart leaning against the meat cooler on the other side of the one-way glass. "And then paying for it!"

  "Not going to do that, either." Chick grunted as she buzzed off a leg and tossed it in an electric grinder.

  "This is horrible!" Resi screeched. "You killed an innocent old man, Nanna! I can never forgive you for this. Mom is gonna shit! Jeni would just die! What were you thinking?" Resi looked at her grandmother with revulsion. "You are getting senile," she squeaked.

  "Senile? Give me a break. The guy had lung cancer, and refused anymore chemo five days ago," Chick said as she buzzed off another limb. "He had no family. He sold his trailer in Dora Pines. Lived in an assisted living center down on Third Street. A Hospice nurse visited yesterday; told him when the time came, they'd move him to Hospice House. Randy was a smart son-of-a-bitch, dragged himself out tonight with a full prescription of Valium hid in his pants pocket. How he got 'em, I don't know, but I'll tell you this; he wasn't going back to that home, Resi."

  "So, what? He planned on offing himself with a bingo ball?"

  Chick shook her head. "I wouldn't have gone back either. I don't know how he planned to end it all, but believe me, he didn't feel a thing my way. No more suffering—done deal." She pointed at the body. "This?" She tapped what was left of his torso. "This is just dead meat. The guy," she pointed at the heating pipes hanging below the ceiling, "is up there."

  "You must've sucked every drop of blood from the poor bastard," Zaire grumbled. "Not even a goddamned drop any-freaking-where. No fuckin doors that way," Zaire said as she clomped past the butcher table and into the darkness on the other side of the room.

  Looking uncomfortable, Resi said, "Nan, you're making an awful lot of noise. What if someone comes back here?" Sad eyes went from the mirrored window to the blood splatter on Chick's apron.

  Bones cracked; pieces and parts went into the grinder. "You can’t hear this out there. Think about it. Have you ever heard this noise coming from this side of those windows when you pick out your pork chops?" She swung the bloody saw in the direction of the one-way glass.

  "No, but…" Resi ran to a large waste barrel, pushed her head inside, and violently retched.

  "Oh, for Christ sake, get it into your head! I'm on a mission of mercy here. Jesus, we drink blood to survive. Go over there." Chick pointed to a chair clear across the room. "Stuff something in your ears."

  "Nanna, what are you going to do with all that...that..." Resi shuddered.

  "No goddamned doors out of here but that one." Zaire pointed at a door exiting between two long coolers on the other side of the glass.

  Chick let out a long sigh. "I'm going to finish what I started, wash up in that sink over there, and we're gonna walk out of here, through the store, into the night." She pointed toward the back wall. "Go look at those tubs over there—the blue ones marked waste."

  Ten barrels were lining the wall.

  "I am not leaving human meat in Walmart's butcher shop," Zaire snapped.

  Chick ignored her and continued. "Those barrels go to the pig farms at six tomorrow morning. Have you ever watched a pig eat?"

  "Okay-okay," Resi weakly said between retches. "Let's just do it and
get the hell out of here."

  ~~~

  Seven

  ~~~

  It was 8:25 pm and the sun was just winking out behind Lake Harris when I realized I could actually feel the others rising. It was freaky. I'd never been able to do that. They were a noisy bunch, so I always knew when they were up and moving around. But they were still in the coffins, barely stirring, yet I knew.

  As I longingly looked at the empty coffee maker, I heard two short horn bursts, followed by the front door opening. I strutted into the hall by the pantry just in time to watch my daughter wave outside before stepping inside and shutting the door.

  "Oh look, my dead mother waited up for me," Jeni said. "Or should I say, popped out of her casket early just for me?" She chuckled.

  I already wanted to slap her. "Dorius talked to us earlier. He asked where you and Paul were while we saved his wife from a shitload of critters in our front yard."

  "So?" Jeni tossed house keys on the kitchen counter.

  "He also wanted you on the surveillance system earlier this morning when we burned several hundred critters and captured three alphas for Resi to experiment with tonight."

  "Again," she was staring a dare at me, "so?"

  "Look, I don't know what you and the wolf are up to. I do know that all immortals, shifters, fae, and the like, have a set of rules we have to abide by because humans suffer if we're allowed to break those rules."

  "I knew it!" Jeni spat. "You just hate that I'm finally making some headway with Paul. I'm very attracted to him, have always been, and you know it. Say it like it is, Mother. You don't want that attraction to go anywhere!"

  I took in a deep breath. It was kind of becoming a habit—probably because it made me feel more human. You couldn't portray being sadly frustrated without a deep breath and a sigh. I sighed. "Jeni, your life is yours to do with as you see fit. My job is to tell you when you are butt-ass stupid. I'm your mother. I don't like the idea of you and Paul." I raised my hand when she opened her mouth to speak. "Hold on! That's only because this is sure to bite you in the ass sooner or later. If you become infected, you should know that ninety percent of the humans that do, die. I don't want you to die. And if that doesn't sway you, think about what that would do to Paul. And if that still doesn't do it, then for the love of blood, do it right. Back off and set up a meeting with the council to discuss your options."

  Jeni inhaled and sighed, only her intake of breath pumped oxygen through her system—lucky bitch.

  "You sound like Paul," my oldest said. "I get it. We've decided—no, he's decided—to set us up a meeting before things get too far."

  Relieved, but not happy, I stared at her as she took a swig from a bottle of orange juice right out of the refrigerator. I suppose it didn't really matter. Not like any of us needed to worry about germs or having to suck down someone else's backwash. My eyes grazed over the coffee maker, and a wave of melancholy momentarily overwhelmed me.

  Jeni was wearing a stretchy zebra-striped tank with spaghetti straps that had a bit of trouble hiding hot pink bra straps. Her leopard earrings and pink tiger-striped eyeglasses worked a shabby-chic, Safari thing. But a pair of majorly distressed, calf-length skinny jeans added a little country. Leather thong sandals showed off freshly painted, light gray toenails, two toe rings, and a gathering of beaded ankle bracelets. Her chin-length, magenta hair accentuated burgundy lips, and green eyes, shaded with earth tones.

  "I'm surprised your makeup still looks fresh," I said and tried for kiddingly. Maybe there was a tad bit of sarcasm in my tone, because, chest out, hips swaying, Jeni walked right by me and headed straight for her downstairs bedroom.

  Halfway down, she said, "I'm dead tired—pun intended. Probably won't see you in the morning. Don't let the worms play pinochle on your snout." I heard her open her bedroom door before she added, "I get it, Mom. I love you, too."

  I leaned against the kitchen counter, staring at the empty hall at the bottom of the stairs, and brushed blood tears off my cheeks.

  A slap on my back made me jump and yelp. "What the hell?"

  My mother had hobbled off the bottom step from the upstairs landing. I shot her a set of Italian hex eyes. Mine didn't pack as much punch as hers—probably because I forgot to do the finger pointing thing most of the time. All Mom did was raise a brow. Just because she was really looking her age, it didn't mean she had to start acting it.

  I dropped my fangs. "Next time you sneak up on me like that, I may bite you!"

  Mom got up in my face. "Vai avanti, ti sfido! You bite your mother, you go to Hell."

  "Sounds like a win-win, Suzabella," Resi said as she stepped through her bedroom door in front of Zaire. "You can talk to JoAnn's ex while you're there."

  Zaire looked across the hall at Jeni's bedroom door. "She just gettin' in?"

  My fangs, and my mother's, audibly clicked back into our gums.

  I didn't want to get into a long, drawn-out Jeni conversation. "With the three Alphas captured last night, your job is just beginning," I told my younger daughter. "They're in the cages." I pointed to the garage door behind them as Resi and Zaire came up the stairs.

  "Alrighty then," Zaire said. "I guess we aren't talking about Jeni and the big bad wolf." She walked past me and opened the refrigerator door. "Anyone else want a blood bag?"

  My fricken fangs dropped again. I had about as much control over them as I did my temper. I was still staring in the direction of Jeni's closed bedroom door, and totally ignored Zaire's question.

  "Resi, refresh my memory," I said. "It's been what, twenty-five years since you were a teen? Did I give you guys the mother-daughter 'use a rubber, STDs suck, so does unwanted pregnancy' talk?"

  Resi rolled her eyes, and then reached for the bag of type-O Zaire was handing over the door of the fridge.

  I looked at my mother. "Sooner or later, I'm gonna bite the wolf."

  Mom's eyes twinkled as she tried to push down the corners of her lips. "Cujo's bite is bigger than your mouth." She shoved me into the kitchen. "I wouldn't mess with the wolf."

  I stuck my tongue out at Mom as Zaire smacked a bag of blood in my hand.

  "What time did you guys get home from Bingo?" I asked them. "Last time I went, the games were over before midnight. We could've used your help, damn it. If we keep burning shit to get rid of the vamp-critters, the local authorities will be knocking on doors asking questions. We're exhibiting classic pyromaniac markers."

  "Not like we need to piss Dorius off any more than he already is," Zaire said, and slammed a bag of blood over her fangs.

  "The dragon kept the fire from getting too close to the woods," I said, "so we only lost a field of dry grass this time. Still . . ." I fanged my blood bag and sucked. The blood was thick and soothing, but cold. Even so, it tasted almost as good as my morning coffee. Almost.

  "Jake showed up?" Resi looked all excited. She kneaded her bag of blood, and then popped it into the microwave for thirty seconds.

  I wished I'd thought of that. I sucked out the last of mine and tossed the empty into the plastic trash can at the end of the breakfast bar between the kitchen and dining room.

  "No. Jake didn't do the burn this time," Mom said. "Christopher was still up when I got in this morning. He told me Gibbie turned into a very cool bird-dragon-thing. Long tail and all. I'm sorry we missed it."

  "I assume Jeni missed it, too?" Resi pushed.

  The mention of Jeni clenched my teeth. To keep from grinding the sharp edge of my right incisor to a nub, and before any of them could answer, I spat, "No daughter of mine is gonna be somebody's bitch!" And then my fangs dropped. Jesus, I was tired of sucking them back in. It was embarrassing. "So what kept you guys from missing it?" I glared at Resi.

  Mom walked around me and into the kitchen. "We went shopping at Walmart."

  "More like dinner at Walmart," Zaire mumbled.

  Resi burbled a tense giggle.

  I was curious, but JoAnn appeared in the archway beside the refrigerator. She loo
ked at me and spread a smile under bright red cheeks. "Jeni and Paul are gonna be the death of you, Susan."

  A few bits short of a byte.

  "No; you are the true death of me, JoAnn," I said, and caught my mom's attention. "And you too, Mother. Walmart? You didn't bite someone in the middle of the negligée department, did you?"

  "Nobody saw anything." Mom climbed onto a barstool by the breakfast bar. "That's all you need to know. I'm the boss around here. Not you."

  "Y'all are gonna give me a migraine if you keep fighting," JoAnn whined.

  I changed tracks. "What was all the snorting over the earbuds earlier?" I asked my sister.

  "I think I have a cold." JoAnn ducked into the fridge and came out with a bag of blood.

  "What the hell happened to your face?" Mom bounced off the stool she'd just hoisted her ass up on, breasts wobbling a few inches over her navel. "It looks like a baboon's ass."

  "That is just rude! And there's nothing wrong with my face," JoAnn said, pulling three more bags out of the fridge.

  "It doesn't look like nothing."

  As Mom made her way closer to JoAnn, her index finger pointed at me over her shoulder. "Don't worry about dinner at Walmart. Nobody involved remembers anything." She let out a loud burp. "Dannazione! Getting old's a bitch. I've been farting and burping since dinner."

  Mom's finger pivoted away from me and waggled at JoAnn, right before she took two bags of blood away from my sister and placed them on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator. Mom hooded her eyes at JoAnn.

  "What?" JoAnn said. "I'm just fine. I don't get up in y'alls faces, so why are you getting up in mine?"

  "Because yours is beckoning like the red-light district on South Orange Blossom Trail," Mom said.

  My brows reached for each other and hung tight. "Yeah, and what's with all the blood lately? You don't like blood."

  The only way my sister would suck down three bags of blood was if she had to. Something was wrong.

  "None of your business, Susan." JoAnn tucked the blood she had left into a plastic Walmart bag, grabbed a fist full of bendy straws out of the cupboard by the fridge, and turned to leave.