Over My Dead Body

by Michele Bardsley

  The mission went off without a hitch, but it felt wrong. We were driven to the remote location. Our vehicle was blacked out, and we arrived in a densely wooded area. We were given the coordinates and the go-ahead. The targets did not expect us. Five men, three women. Our Invisi-shields protected us and sure as hell confused the targets.

  After we finished the mission, we destroyed the bodies and their campsite. As instructed, we took the infant. The little guy didn’t look well. He didn’t even cry. I don’t know what they wanted with him. My hope is that one of the bastards I work for has a heart and plans to relocate the child.

  Goddamn it! If those people were paraterrorists, I’ll eat a whole pot of Henneman’s diarrhea-special chili. They moved fast and they were strong. They sensed us even though they couldn’t see us. Lycanthropes. But only one of them shifted—the female who protected the baby. The rest had to be Roma, cousins of the full-bloods and only able to shift during full moons. What I don’t get is why a full-blood was hanging out with Roma. They’re not exactly tolerant of each other—at least not according to the intel we received.

  I don’t feel right about what happened. We killed a goddamn mother! I want to puke out my guts. It didn’t matter that she was a lycan. Shayla would hate what I did, what I’ve become. Hell, I hate me right now.

  The other men in my unit haven’t said anything. We’re not a touchy-feely bunch, for Christ’s sake. We know how it works. We do our jobs; we keep our mouths shut. And we never, ever tell anyone who we are or what we do.

  And we sure as shit don’t keep diaries.

  Chapter 12

  “Simone! No!” Brady wrenched away from me. He startled me so badly, I fell off the swing. Hurt stabbed me, literally, as my ass hit the porch, and emotionally as I faced Brady’s abrupt rejection. I stared up at him with wide eyes, my pride wounded.

  “Don’t do that. Not ever.” He wiped his neck, then drew his hand away and stared at the blood. He went white. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

  Guilt flooded me. Did he have a thing about blood? Him? A big, tough soldier? It didn’t make any sense.

  “It heals,” I said, my voice quivering. “It won’t leave a scar.”

  “You can’t drink from me. Do you understand?”

  Mortified, I nodded. Fear seized my voice, my ability to move. I’d heard that same darkness in Jacob’s tone, right before he hurt me. I wanted to curl up into a little ball and cry. What had I done? I just snacked on Brady, that’s what. I’d assumed he was okay with me feeding on him, which was stupid. Embarrassment broiled me.

  Brady surged to his feet, then leaned down. I flinched and turned my face away.

  “Simone?”

  All my earlier bravado (Seductress? Predator? Hah!) was gone. “I’m fine,” I said, staring at the grit-covered boards on which I sat. Gran swept the porch every evening, but it was difficult to keep it clean. “You better go wash your hands.”

  “I’m not leaving you on the floor.” He squatted next to me. I was grateful he didn’t try to touch me. He sounded soothing now, his manner gentled. “I’m sorry you fell. I’m sorry I . . . overreacted.”

  “I said it’s fine.”

  “Simone,” he said softly. “Forgive me.”

  I finally glanced at him and saw how he was looking at me. Sincerely. With concern. He seemed to know that I didn’t want him to get too close. Would I ever trust again? How much time would pass before I could forget what happened to me? To my family?

  “Only if you’ll forgive me,” I said. “I shouldn’t have done that. Rick didn’t show up, and you stir my appetites. All of them.”

  I don’t know why I confessed that to him. For some reason, it caused relief (yep, there was desire there, as well) to glimmer in his gaze.

  His lips hitched into a grin. “Don’t get me wrong,” he answered. “I liked it.” He shook his head. “My blood is . . . infected.”

  Come to think of it, Brady tasted a little metallic, like I’d licked a pipe. Yet his blood was also more delicious than Rick’s, rich like devil’s food cake slathered with chocolate icing (metal shavings on top).

  “Infected?” I worried my lower lip. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. It’s not how you think. It’s complicated.” He studied my face. “May I help you up now?”

  He offered his unbloodied hand, and even though I didn’t really need his help, I accepted the gesture. We stood, and I let go of his hand and stepped back. He seemed to recognize I wanted distance, and he didn’t try to crowd me.

  “Simone?” called Gran. “Guests are arriving, child.”

  “Be right there!” I called back.

  “You . . . uh, have some blood on your mouth,” Brady said. He pulled a handkerchief out of his front jeans pocket. I took it and dabbed my lips.

  “Keep it,” he said when I tried to hand it back. “I have a lot of those.”

  I studied the white cloth and saw the initials BH stitched in the corner. “It’s kinda old-fashioned.”

  “My mama raised me right.” He was trying to lighten the mood, and I appreciated it.

  “We better go in,” I said. Brady extended his arm in an after-you gesture. I turned around and went inside the kitchen.

  I was still hungry. I hoped Rick had arrived because I really needed my pint. I didn’t want to make another mistake. And I never wanted to hurt Brady again.

  The party had been in full swing for more than an hour. Rick never showed up and he wasn’t answering his cell phone. Even though I gorged on pot roast, green bean casserole, corn on the cob, and sweet potato pie, hunger gnawed at me until all I could think about was sucking on a juicy artery.

  After returning to the house, I’d separated from Brady and had managed to mingle with my friends while avoiding him (and trying to make it seem like I wasn’t).

  Nearly everyone had shown up, including Patsy and Gabriel. I’d never seen people enjoy food the way the vampires were, and since we weren’t required to digest, there was no limit on what we could shove down our gullets.

  Tables and chairs had been set up outside. Someone, one of the lycans, maybe, brought a grill. The scent of cooking meat seemed to entice everyone, and every so often a groan of appreciation would roll through the crowd.

  The best thing about the whole event was that Glory was playing with the other kids. Firefly tag had ensued, and my baby girl ran and jumped and squealed. It didn’t seem to matter to the kids that she didn’t talk. And to see Glory being social and liking it brought me a heart full of joy.

  “She’s doing well,” said Eva.

  I turned and found Broken Heart’s schoolteacher standing beside me. In her hand was a plate filled with three slices of pie and one slab of cheesecake. She saw me notice her dessert indulgence, and she laughed.

  “Carb heaven,” she said, sighing contentedly. “And it’ll never glue itself to my thighs.” She ate some of the cheesecake, closing her eyes as she savored the bite. Then she pointed the fork in the direction of the kids. “You thinkin’ about enrolling Glory in school?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. I watched Glory tag Jenny, who was Jessica’s daughter, and giggle as she turned and ran. Flet bounced along with her, his golden light never far from her. My baby seemed so happy. “She’s still not talking. This is the first time I’ve seen her even want to be around other people.”

  Eva nodded. “Our classroom is small, and even though we do a lot of typical coursework, I’m very informal. I think Glory would find it fun. Maybe, if she’s around other children, she’ll decide she wants to talk.”

  I wondered what she’d say. I wondered if all our secrets would spill from her lips, a purging of what had come before, of what had been done to her. Of what I had done to her father. My stomach clenched. I couldn’t be afraid anymore. Jacob was dead. Technically, so was I. Glory deserved a life with security and love and friendship—even if that meant facing my past head-on.

  “I’ll talk to her to about it,” I finally offered. �
��And if she wants to give it a try, I’ll call you.”

  “Excellent.” Eva looked down at her plate. “If you’ll excuse me, I think there’s a piece of German chocolate cake with my name on it.”

  I smiled. Across the yard, I saw Brady talking to one of the lycanthrope triplets. Considering the serious expression of the one manning the grill, he was certainly Damina. I had to assume Brady was chatting with either Darrius or Drake. He seemed to sense I was watching. He glanced up, his gaze on mine, sharing a look with me that I’d seen lovers like Jessica and Patrick share. It made me all warm inside (oh, baby), but I couldn’t forget what had happened on the porch. I’d overstepped my bounds, but Brady had scared me. I couldn’t let that go. It wasn’t fair. He didn’t know about Jacob. He couldn’t begin to follow rules that he didn’t know existed. But that was how I felt. It was probably best, then, that we keep our distance.

  Brady clapped the lycanthrope on the shoulder and headed in my direction. Shit. I looked around for something to do, someone to talk to, and saw Elizabeth Bretton peering over one of the tables laden with our impromptu feast.

  Elizabeth kept to herself even more than I did, though she was always very nice whenever she made an appearance. She was a handsome woman, in her early forties, which was the result of vigorous self-care, good genes, and, as she once told us, “a marvelous plastic surgeon.” Vampirism had made her beauty permanent—no need for any more surgical enhancements. She had shiny auburn hair cut short and designed to frame her lovely face. Her eyes were brown, and reminded me, oddly enough, of just-baked brownies—warm, inviting, and sweet. Elizabeth was the last remaining Silverstone, though she’d never tried to claim the mansion or property that rightly belonged to her family. Rumor had it that her estranged husband and daughter were in Europe. Elizabeth lived in a modest cottage inside the compound and had become Zela’s (yeah, that Zela) assistant. She probably had better vampire training than all of us.

  I glanced out of the corner of my eye. Brady had reversed directions and now weaved through the crowd of women hovering around the dessert table. You’d think there was a shoe sale over there.

  I hurried over to Elizabeth. “Hey, there! How you doin’?”

  Elizabeth looked up. “Just fine, dear. Oh, my. You’re getting a little fangy. Haven’t you eaten?”

  “My donor never showed up.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes flashed concern. “You know, I haven’t seen Darlene or her daughter, either. Seems like everyone is here except those two.”

  And Rick. Anxiety rippled. Why hadn’t he shown up or called? And where had Darlene gone off to? Surely she wouldn’t miss a party. She loved parties.

  “I left a message on her voice mail,” I said.

  Reiner had stopped Brady and engaged him in a conversation. I could see the frustration etched on Brady’s features. Hmm. That Reiner was starting to grow on me. Not that he’d helped me on purpose.

  “There are plenty of donors here,” reminded Elizabeth. “I suggest you find one.”

  “Great idea. See you later.” I whirled around and headed toward a knot of people by the creek. They dispersed before I could insert myself into their midst and hide. Shit.

  “How’s it goin’ with your pixie?” asked Zerina.

  I nearly jumped out of my skin. I spun around and slapped a hand to my chest. I glared at her. “Where the hell did you come from?”

  “Thought we went over that.” Zerina laughed. She looked like Courtney Love today: kohled eyes, pink-striped minidress, hole-filled black stockings, and pink wedge heels that were at least five inches. Her hair was spiked and the tops of the spikes were black. “What’s got your knickers in a knot? Would it be that lickalicious Brady who’s headed your way?”

  I looked over my shoulder. He’d gotten stalled again, this time by Glory, who clung to his legs like a Lilliputian latching on to a giant invader.

  “Why you runnin’ away from him?” asked Zerina.

  “Do you really care?”

  She considered this. “Not really.” Her pink eyebrows soared. “Oy. Your fangs are showin’.”

  “Thanks for the update.” I walked away, trying to seem casual, and headed toward Jessica. She sat alone on a fold-out chair with a gold box on her lap.

  “Hey, Jess.”

  She looked up at me, her expression similar to that of a heroin addict who’d just shot up. (Discovery Channel, people—watch it, already.) Her lips were smeared with chocolate.

  “How many of those one-pounders have you had?”

  “This makes three,” she said, clutching the box. “I know, I know! When you consider all that’s wrong in the world, it seems completely selfish to enjoy a wish gone wrong. It’s really, really wrong to suck down three boxes of Godiva truffles. But I have to say, Simone, I am sooooo fucking happy right now.” She plucked a chocolate from the box. “See this? This is an edible orgasm.” She shoved it into her mouth. From the look on her face, I could well believe it. I liked chocolate, too, but wow. That was some serious love right there. Her eyes popped open. “You want one?”

  “No,” I said. “Enjoy your diabetic coma.”

  She grinned. “Thanks to you and that dumb-ass Flet, I won’t ever have to worry about having one.”

  I left Jessica to her truffles. My hunger was acute now, and I knew if I didn’t find a willing neck soon, I might just gnaw on the nearest one.

  “Hey, Simone!”

  I might’ve been able to ignore the voice had it not belonged to Patsy. I trudged toward her. She and Gabriel stood near the front porch. Another gentleman stood with them. His gray hair was pulled into a long ponytail. He wore the most garish yellow shirt (with pineapples on it, thank you) I’d ever seen, and paired it with black shorts. He also wore hemp flip-flops.

  “This is George,” said Patsy.

  I peered at him. He looked familiar. Like that comedian. I considered what I was thinking. Nah. I held out my hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Simone Sweet.”

  “Groovy.” He shook my hand. I considered him again, and realized he was a vampire. Holy moly. At what human age had he been Turned? He looked at least seventy.

  “George will be opening up a facility here in the next year,” said Patsy. Her lips couldn’t decide whether to smile or to grimace.

  George nodded. “It’s for vampires who were Turned after the age of sixty. Not many of us, mind you—probably forty or fifty—at least in the United States.”

  Who would Turn a senior citizen?

  He seemed to realize what I was thinking. He laughed. “Man, we all have our stories. Not all of ’em nice. But even though we have all the powers and our bodies are strong, we weren’t made youthful again.”

  “Seventy forever?” I asked.

  “Yep.”

  “So . . . the facility is a home for elderly vampires?”

  The man hooted and slapped his knee. “No, man. We’re opening up a nudist colony.”

  Chapter 13

  “Seriously?”I looked at Patsy.

  She nodded. “Broken Heart’s getting ready to be the safest place in the world for all paranormals. If a bunch of old bloodsucking farts want to walk around naked, I don’t give a shit.” She narrowed her gaze at George. “As long as you do it only in the designated areas. I don’t need children traumatized.” Her brows went up. “Or me. I don’t want to be traumatized, either.”

  George put his hands up. “Whatever you say, Queenie.”

  “Have you eaten?” asked Gabriel, staring at me. He tapped his mouth. “Your fangs are showing.”

  “So I’ve been told. Rick, my donor, never dropped by.”

  “You can have my neck,” offered George. He leered comically. “I’m very well aged.”

  “Thanks,” I said, “but I always keep my vintage blood in its original bottle.”

  George chuckled, then his gaze was drawn to something behind me. “Yowzer. Who’s that good-looking mama?”

  I turned and saw my grandmother standing on the porch steps wit
h Libby and Ralph. Their toddler twin boys were settled in the grass a foot away, playing happily with wooden trains.

  “The redhead?” I asked. “That’s Libby, and that guy next to her is her husband, Ralph.”

  George shot me a look that questioned my IQ. “Not her. The other hot-looking chick.”

  “Gran?” I sputtered, my gaze swinging toward my grandmother. Her gray hair was pulled into its usual bun, her skin looking as though someone had created it out of crinkled paper. She was dressed in a blue shirt and khaki shorts. Her feet were encased in her favorite blue house slippers. I don’t think she even owned a pair of real shoes. “Whoa, buddy. You better suck in those fangs. That’s my grandmother.”

  “Her name’s Elaine,” offered Patsy, because she was evil. “She’s really nice.”

  I turned to glare at Patsy. She shrugged. Her lips pressed together as if to stall a smile; merriment twinkled in her blue eyes.

  George took off and I took a step after him, but Patsy said, “Oh, leave him alone. He’s harmless, and your grandmother ’s entitled to have a little fun.”

  “Vampires aren’t harmless.” I stopped, watching George introduce himself to Libby, Ralph, and Grandma Elaine. Then my two friends defected, claiming their toddlers as they went off to the buffet.

  Damn it.

  George was a little too close to Gran, and I don’t know what he whispered, but she actually blushed. He didn’t seem to care that she was blind (or old) or human (or old). Guilt snaked through me. She’d sacrificed so much for us. I felt protective, but also uncertain. Gran was more than capable of taking care of herself. And honestly, I hadn’t seen her smile like that in a long time. I supposed that flirting didn’t really have an age limit.