Biting Oz: Biting Love, Book 5

by Mary Hughes

She breathed, barely. “Someone shot my mom’s pink flamingo and stole her gnome!”

  The flamingo wasn’t a crime, but stealing a gnome was just plain despicable. “It wasn’t me, Rocky.”

  The bell rang again. Mrs. Blau stopped in the doorway, her expression outraged. “What are you doing?” She strode to the counter. “That is for babies.”

  We all just gaped as she struck the jar of baby food out of Hermy’s hand.

  Hermy blinked big eyes. “But Tiny is a baby. My baby.”

  “Now look here.” Mrs. Blau grabbed Hermy by the snug sack straps. “Tiny is a cat. C-A-T. He has claws and whiskers and licks his butt.”

  “He’s my baby.”

  “Your baby died. And the sooner you realize that and get over it, the better!”

  I reached out a hand. “Hermy—“

  “He’s my baby!”

  I’ll never forget the way Hermy’s face crumpled as she ran out.

  It was the last straw. I had no idea why Fangs To You’s novelty hadn’t worn off, why Meiers Corners not only wasn’t returning to normal but getting worse. But one thing was clear.

  Camille’s hold on us had to be broken.

  Of course the question was, if not the free drinks, what was Camille’s hold? I needed more information.

  I called Glynn that evening to get some background on her. They seemed to have some sort of history.

  I told him about all the strange behavior and my belief that Camille was at the bottom of it. “I think she’s gone beyond just stealing our business. I think she’s stealing our souls.”

  “Camille does like to corrupt,” he said reluctantly. “What if I said you were right?”

  “Then I’d find some way to grass her ass.”

  “Babi, no. We have no idea how she is subverting people. You need to stay away from her until we know more.”

  “I can’t do nothing. These are my people. Meiers Corners is my city.”

  “Your home,” he said softly.

  “My home, yes, okay.” I blew a disgruntled breath. “I feel so helpless. We beat the kidnapping attempts only to find Camille had a plan to lure away the tourists. Even if we win back the tourists, I think she has another plan after that—to corrupt our people. Even if we save Meiers Corners, how do we know she doesn’t have another plan after that? And another?”

  “Junior, shh. It’s okay.” His voice deepened, gentled. “One plan at a time. We defeated the kidnapper. We’ll win back the tourists.”

  I shook my head. “That’s my job, not yours. You’re supposed to guard Mishela. I’m supposed to win tourists. Well, me and the show.”

  “Your job is to stay safe. Mine is to keep you that way.”

  “Hard to do after you leave town.” I gulped. “Sorry, that was uncalled for. If it makes you feel better, I’ll stay away from her, safe in my bedroom. Um…you could come over here.”

  “My scent is on you, love. It needs to wear off. Something happened and I don’t want to remind Camille that you and I…well, it’s complicated.”

  “It always is. I just promised I wouldn’t go anywhere for a while. Since I’m stuck here, you might as well explain.”

  He sighed. “Friday, she smelled me on you. That wasn’t a problem because vampires have casual liaisons all the time. But if she smells me on you days from now, if that scent is actually stronger… Camille is not stupid. She’ll know you and I have gone beyond a casual liaison. She’s quick to exploit any vulnerability.”

  He was staying away to protect me.

  When I hung up, it was with a lump in my throat. I wished hard for vampire senses so I could smell him on my skin too, and be a little less lonely.

  Tuesday was worse. Friendly waves were gone. Eye contact was a thing of the past. My mother put on I Pagliacci—not only tragic opera but one about clowns. Yeah, we were really wallowing.

  I knew Camille was responsible but not how. The obvious thing to do, the thing I wanted to do, was head straight across the street and scope out Fangs To You. But Glynn wanted me to stay out of her way and I’d honor that if I could.

  So I called my resources. Twyla promised info on Camille’s permits. Rocky said she’d check the connection between CIC insurance and Fangs To You. I tried to tease information out of the customers, but all they did was babble about free drinks and fizzy cheese curds.

  Glynn called again that night but didn’t come. Um, come over…visit. Whatever. I did my usual routine but it felt flat, like a dieter getting a taste of real food and then being forced back onto pap. I’d only known him a week, but that didn’t stop me from a lifetime’s worth of wanting. Contrarily, I resented his being unavailable. Yes, he was doing it to protect me. Yes, he was leaving at the end of the show’s run. I was counting on it, needing it to get my feet and my rainbow dreams back under me.

  But all I could think of was that Glynn and I only had a few more days together, and I wasn’t even going to get that.

  Wednesday I got a call from Elena with orders to come to breakfast at the Caffeine Café. As a cop with a very sharp knife, a very big gun, and an even bigger gun, nobody except hubby Bo argues with Elena. I went.

  At the café, Tammy led me upstairs to a private room I didn’t know existed, containing a single round table. Six women sat around the table, two-thirds of them pregnant and all involved in good-natured arguing.

  Elena, Nixie and Twyla were on one side, brunette, blonde, brunette. On the other side were three blondes. Gretchen Johnson was Elena’s sister, with the looks of a cheerleader and a sweet, mothering nature. Liese Schmetterling was a computer geek, wholesome as a dairy maid, recently married to cover-hunk-gorgeous Logan Steel. And finally there was Liese’s mother, Hattie Stieg Schmetterling Gillette. (Also my aunt. As I mentioned, everybody’s related in the Corners to some degree or another, even the people who’ve just moved here. The genes rub off.)

  “That’s all of us.” Elena pointed me to the last empty chair. “I hereby call to order the first meeting of V-spouses of Meiers Corners and Nearby Surrounds.”

  “The door’s shut,” Twyla said. “We can use the word vampire.”

  Pulling out my chair, I stopped. “Vampire spouses? Why am I here?”

  “Because of Glynn.” Twyla said this, but everyone nodded.

  “But…he’s leaving at the end of the week.”

  “Su-ure he is,” Elena said. “Ring or not, you’re part of our world now. Sit.”

  As I mentioned, gun, knife, and way-bigger gun. I sat.

  Nixie started things off. “Okay, the beef on the table is as follows. Camille’s got her lacquered claws in our collective hides. Julian’s working his ass off to get a legal crowbar under her. Meantime, Scary Ancient’s got his undies in a bundle. Since he’s badder than Blade, we’re officially worried.”

  Liese cleared her throat. “We don’t know that. The badder than Blade thing. None of us have ever met Elias in person.”

  The door opened and everybody shut up. Tammy slid in with a tray of food and drink, including my regular order. Since she was part of the Emerson household, discussion started again.

  “Liese, you work for Elias, right?” Nixie unwrapped a muffin, her third, from the paper wads on her plate. “You’ve talked with him on the phone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Superman or Blade?”

  “Um, Blade.”

  “Blade or the Terminator?”

  “The Terminator, I guess.”

  “The Terminator or Elias?”

  “Elias…oh.”

  Having made her point, Nixie popped muffin in her mouth and moved on. “Nosy’s the ruinator behind Camille, hacking at MC tourism to chapter seven the city. That happens, Scary Ancient’ll start a war and our hubs’ll be front line.”

  Aunt Hattie raised her hand. “Translation?”

  “Nosferatu’s ruining our tourism, Mom,” Liese said. “To bankrupt us, make us ripe for takeover. The Ancient One won’t allow that, but it might put Meiers Corners in the middle
of a vampire war, with Julian and the rest out front.”

  “They’ll need all the help they can get,” Nixie said. “That’s us.”

  Elena slammed her mug on the table. “We’d be more help if we were vamps.”

  “That would be nice,” Liese said. “Not just for fighting. With us aging and them not, it’d give us happily ever after, emphasis on ever.”

  “You know we can’t convert now.” Nixie rubbed her belly. “We couldn’t make rugrats as vampires.”

  Elena’s sister Gretchen laughed. “That wouldn’t be so bad. My second baby was born in March, and I’m already pregnant again.”

  That brought on a round of congratulations and frappe toasts. I leaned toward Nixie. “I thought vampires couldn’t get humans pregnant.” At least, that was what Glynn had said.

  “Sure, if you and the vampire aren’t mates. Then nothing takes. But you are…” She pointed at her rounded belly. “Bang. Everything does.”

  That sat me back.

  Elena was still arguing. “Even after our kid’s born, Bo won’t make me like him. He won’t even try.”

  “It’s really dangerous,” Liese said. “The chances of a successful turning are very low.”

  “Steve turned,” Elena said, referring not to Shiv but to Gretchen’s husband. “Over a year ago.”

  “But it was horrible. He was murdered by a gang of vampires.” Gretchen looked away. “He still has nightmares.”

  “And I sympathize.” Elena rubbed her sister’s shoulder. “The thing is, as a vampire I’d be able to kill rogues without arming up like a SWAT team. For me? Totally worth it.”

  “If turning were a sure thing.” Liese pulled out her smartphone and a stylus. “But it isn’t. I’ve been doing some research. It’s incomplete and I had to extrapolate parts instead of interpolating, which is always dangerous and my statistical app isn’t Steel Software’s but—”

  “Eyes glazing over here,” Nixie said. “Bottom line?”

  “Well…current turning rate assumes…hmm, a hundred forty-four million bites…seven billion humans…” Her stylus flew across the phone’s screen. “You have a better chance of getting hit by lightning.”

  “That’s crap.” Elena bit her toast like she was the vampire.

  “There’s a way to better your odds.”

  Elena stopped mauling defenseless bread. “I’m listening.”

  “If you’re eviscerated, that raises the chances to one in a thousand. Or if you have AIDS.”

  “Eviscerated?” Twyla’s fork hand slowly dropped. “Like split belly, strewn guts? I don’t feel so good now.”

  “You’re probably pregnant,” Gretchen chirped.

  “What? I sure as hell better not be! Nikos would insist we get married, my sister would never let me hear the end of it—”

  “Not to mention the mayor.” Nixie smirked.

  Twyla swore, tossed her fork to the plate with a clatter. “Look, what’s the deal with turning and happy-ever-after? Why not just enjoy the now?”

  “Hello,” Elena said. “Super strength, super senses, super speed?”

  “Super sex.” Hattie grinned.

  “Mother… I didn’t bring her up like this,” Liese said to no one in particular.

  “What do other human-vampire couples do?” Gretchen asked. “Surely we’re not the first women in this situation.”

  “Race said the Lestats use up their human lovers,” Hattie said. “‘Drink and screw until they’re through’. At least our guys nurture us.”

  Liese covered her face.

  “I don’t care,” Elena said. “After my kid is born, I’m making Bo turn me.”

  “Elena, you can’t.” Gretchen thumped the table every bit as hard as her sister. “You’d have to die, and there’s no certainty you’d come through. We need more of a guarantee.”

  “We need more information.” Liese uncovered her face. “Maybe Mr. Elias knows something.”

  “Yeah.” Elena patted her hip. “Let’s shoot that ancient fucker and get him to talk.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “Hello?” The door opened. Instant silence.

  A tiny woman bustled in, all bust and hair. Behind her, Tammy hauled in a chair. “Thanks, sugar,” the woman said. “Free bikini wax for you.”

  “Um, no thanks, Ms. Barton.” Tammy handed her a mug that smelled like full-throttle chocolate before shutting the door.

  Dolly Barton, queen of the MC grapevine, had arrived.

  To say Dolly was the town gossip was like saying J. K. Rowling made a little money on those quaint wizard-boy books. Dolly knew everything that went on, sometimes even before it happened. Some people said Dolly had WiFi in her head and that at night she spirit-walked as a webcrawler.

  She was a seventy-year-old platinum-blonde dynamo, four foot eight, forty-two D, exactly like the country singer except older and shorter. She wore pink fifties diner-style uniforms and chewed a wad of gum as big as your head.

  At her entrance, a tinkling bell rang in my head like her beauty shop. Pavlov instead of Freud. Or I’d backslid from the genital stage to the aural—ha ha.

  “Hey Dolly.” Nixie was the first to recover her cool, but she rarely lost it. “Sup?”

  “I heard about the meeting and thought I’d take a break from haircuts and mani-pedis.” Dolly twirled the chair to the table (she was small but strong) and sat, beaming at us. “What are we talking about?”

  There was a lot of hemming and hawing because v-guys were secret and we needed to keep our mouths shut.

  And Dolly was the Queen of Open Mouths.

  Hey, oral-stage Freud was back.

  “I was surprised you hadn’t invited me.” Dolly reached for the condiments basket, snapped up three packets of real sugar and tore them into her mug. I blinked. I was a whopping five-two and it only took a couple extra pounds to make me feel like a blimp. I wondered what Dolly did to work her calories off. Then I thought of the bedroom workout Glynn had given me…

  Queen of Open Mouths. I decided I was better off not knowing.

  “Gosh, sorry, Dolly,” Elena said. “But we’re just having a sort of—” she waved vaguely around the table. “Impromptu grade school reunion.”

  “Hattie was in your class?” Dolly raised eyebrows at Liese’s mom.

  “Uh…”

  “Oh, pick up your jaws. You look like beached fish. I know about vampires.”

  Whatever mouths hadn’t been open, dropped.

  Elena went for her gun, stopped herself. “How… I mean where…or why…?”

  “Always the detective.” Dolly’s eyes twinkled. “Stark, of course.”

  “Solomon Stark?” I frowned. Of Stark and Moss Funeral Home, Solomon Stark looked the part of undertaker, as tall, gaunt and striking as a Tim Burton character—or if you don’t know Burton, think Spock from Star Trek in an Abe Lincoln hat. Or just think Abe.

  “What about Stark…no.” Comprehension hit Elena’s face. “Oh no.”

  “Oh yes.” Dolly calmly drank chocolate. “We’ve been lovers for fifty years.”

  “Fifty?” Liese worked her smartphone. “But that would make you—”

  “One hundred and two. I’ve been with Sol since my fifty-second birthday.” She smiled, a small, secret smile. “Don’t look a day over seventy, do I?”

  “But what…I mean how…” Elena covered her eyes with a hand. “Scratch that, I don’t want to know.”

  “I do,” Nixie said. “Julian waited over a thousand years for me. Doesn’t seem fair he gets me only sixty, seventy tops.”

  Gee, what would happen if I stayed with Glynn for seventy years…no. I had New York and he had Wales, and while both were east of Chicago, there was this little matter of the long-distance swim.

  “So gimme the 4-1-1,” Nixie said. “You’ve found a way for humans to become immortal, like vampires?”

  “Vampires aren’t immortal,” I muttered.

  Everybody looked at me. I flushed. “What? Glynn says they�
�re not. He made a big deal about it.”

  Dolly laughed. “Well, this won’t make you immortal or even stop you aging completely. But it will keep you younger longer, and chase away the aches and pains when the old chassis does start rusting.”

  “Spew,” Nixie said. “What’s the secret? Does it involve drinking v-blood?”

  “Not exactly. But your lover can help you to heal faster, better.”

  “How, exactly?” Liese’s stylus was poised, her eyes a bright blue.

  “It’s a secret.”

  Several women exchanged glances. Elena finally said, “More secret than vampires?”

  “Yes.” Dolly leaned in, lowered her voice. “Even if your lover shows you, you must never speak of it. Not in euphemisms, not in code. Never, ever, not one word, not even among yourselves.”

  Coming from Dolly, this meant something.

  “Why?” Elena demanded.

  “If the wrong people ever learned of it—” Dolly shuddered. “They’d die.”

  “Who’d die?” Nixie frowned. “Us? The people who found out? Our vampires?”

  “I can’t say any more.” Dolly rose. “If your lovers want to, they will show you.” And on that cryptic note she swept out.

  “Huh,” Liese said. “Dolly Barton, keeping a secret. Who’da thunk it?”

  “Looking like that at a hundred and two?” Gretchen sighed. “I’d like that.”

  “Not me,” Elena said. “I still want to be a full-fledged vamp. Super strength and speed, plus a gun? That’s a no-brainer.”

  “But no children,” Gretchen said. “Vampire women can’t have them.”

  “Did anyone say why?” Liese asked, paging through her phone. “If the males can make babies, why can’t the females? I know the females have periods.”

  “You do?” All eyes blinked at her.

  Stylus paused over phone, she blushed. “I did some research with Logan’s female lieutenant. And, um, made a database.” Her blush faded. “I’m surprised you didn’t know that, Nixie. Since Julian has a female lieutenant too.”

  “Never came up.” Nixie shrugged. “All I know is Julian says no female vamp’s gotten pregnant, but they don’t know why.”

  Elena snorted. “They never know why.”