by Cate Lawley
“Oh, definitely not. Do I seem full of zest? But you’ll have to ask her why me. We don’t chat.”
“Oh, yeah.” I’d forgotten that he couldn’t hear her. “But if she doesn’t talk to you, how do you know what she wants and who’s a good fit?”
“A feeling. She can communicate, but not with words. And the sparkly lights were hard to miss this time around.” When he saw the look on my face, he grinned. “That’s not typical. But really, enough with the sword already. Let’s have a look at your room.”
“Wait. How am I supposed to use a sword? And how do I carry a sword around in Austin?”
“Enough with the questions. I think I’m getting a migraine—and I don’t get headaches. Look, she’s yours now. So the how is between the two of you.” Wembley locked the trunk. “Ah—I can tell you that she can cloak herself. The vixen was cloaked for about three years, and I thought I’d lost her. Probably trying to teach me a lesson, put a bug in my ear to hurry up and find her a new partner. Not like it’s easy to find candidates that fit the— See, there you go.”
The sword in my hand had vanished, but I could still feel the paradoxically airy yet hefty feel of the blade. I gave her an experimental swing, and a small shimmer in the air gave away her location. It looked like the air that rose off Austin asphalt in the dead of summer.
“Wow. So, you’re alive, huh? Are you possessed by the soul of some long-dead and romantically tragic figure?” I could just imagine it…I cocked my head. “Did you hear that, Wembley? I think my sword just blew a raspberry.”
“No surprise there. Possessed by a human…where do you get this stuff? She’s not cursed; she’s alive.”
“Oh, sorry about that.” I petted the scrollwork near the hilt apologetically. “I’m new. To vampires, magic, and everything.”
But Tangwystl was silent.
“She’s a sword of few words. Where am I supposed to keep her?”
“In her scabbard, close. What do I know? I haven’t carried one in years, and never a living sword. You’ll have to figure that part out.”
I had a sneaking suspicion I’d just been had. “Why haven’t you ever carried a living sword?”
“Apart from the fact that I’ve been toting her from house to house for…a long time, they’re not actually that common. And Tangwystl doesn’t like men.”
A small chirping noise came from the vicinity of Tangwystl.
“Did you hear that?” I looked at my new sword.
“Oh yes—even I heard that one.” He paused and looked at Tangwystl. “I didn’t know she could make actual sounds—something beyond mind-speaking. And I apologize. She doesn’t like working with men. Won’t adopt one as a partner, so even if I’d been interested, she wasn’t.”
I looked at him. He didn’t seem to be fibbing, but I still smelled a suspicious odor of deceit. But…a magic sword! I wanted to jump up and down and do a little dance. I had a magic sword!
“Better put it up before you have a small stroke.” Wembley handed me the scabbard.
I slid her into the protective casing, expecting some sign of protest. But she gave a happy sigh of pleasure. Actually, it sounded a lot like me when I put my favorite slippers on. I slung the scabbard over my shoulder.
Wembley readjusted the case and flipped it around to my back. “Works better in modern society, and easier for her to cloak because it follows the line and movement of your body. But you’ll have to sort out the details of using a sword in modern society on your own time. I haven’t the stamina for it any longer.”
No aversion to guns, but Wembley did seem completely uninterested in the concept of swordplay. I’d have to quiz him on the hang-up sometime when I wasn’t already stretching hospitality to the limits.
“I do remember that Alex carried his in a similar way. And his is the only magic sword I’ve seen so far. Although I guess I wouldn’t really see them—with cloaking and all that? And I’m pretty sure he didn’t talk to his.” I thought back to the moment I’d seen his sword at the office. Did he always carry it, and it was simply invisible? But I was pretty certain he hadn’t spoken to it.
“He uses a minor illusion to mask his sword—same for any other weaponry he happens to stash on his body. And his is definitely not alive.” Wembley chuckled as if the thought was vastly entertaining. Once he’d recovered from his fit of humor, he said, “I think he has some more complex enchantments working on his blade—but again, ask him.”
Ask someone else. It seemed to be the Society’s motto. And it was vastly annoying. But I wasn’t getting anything else out of Wembley. He was in house-flipper mode now.
I followed behind him as he led the way to a room on the opposite side of the house. “The guest bathroom is in the hallway.” He flicked on the light. “It’s clean—but this one hasn’t been through the remodel yet. The contractors just finished the master bath and haven’t made it to this one.”
It was like a 1970s flashback. Gold, sparkly swirls in the Formica countertops, fixtures straight out of an acid trip, and paneling.
“Paneling in the bathroom?”
“It was a moment in time. But call it beadboard, and suddenly it’s modern.”
“Oh, yeah. But this isn’t that.” I could feel my nose wrinkling up. “Really not. What are you doing with the walls?”
“I’m not sure. The accountant me says paint it white and go for a French country home look—but that may not fit with the rest of the house, depending on which direction we go with the kitchen.”
“Says interior designer you.”
“Bingo.” He flipped the light off. “This way to your bedroom. Breakfast at eight? Or nine? How about you help yourself if I’m not up?”
“Deal. And thanks for everything, Wembley. I’m sure Alex is being overcautious.”
Wembley hesitated and then nodded. “Good night.”
The room was cute and fresh. Light bamboo flooring, off-white walls, and sage window panels. There was a unique built-in dresser that I’d never seen in a ranch-style house of this era. Probably added by one of the former owners, Wembley left it mostly as is, only adding a coat of fresh paint and some new handles. I set Tangwystl gently on top of it.
After a quick bathroom trip to freshen up, I changed into my nightgown and slipped into bed. As the sheets slid softly against my skin, I realized this was the first time I’d gone to bed and fallen asleep in any normal fashion since my transformation. There was something comforting about the nightly ritual of brushing teeth, changing into nightclothes, and going to bed. Even in a strange house and a strange bed.
Whoever came to view the house would see in this room exactly what they needed: a spare room for guests, the new baby’s room, a home office for freelance work—the possibilities were numerous. I saw safety, routine, and normalcy. And those were the thoughts I fell asleep to.
19
A GIRL AND HER SWORD ARE NEVER PARTED
I jerked in my sleep and woke in a heart-thudding rush.
My breath came in gasps as I lay in bed, trying to remember what nasty dream had woken me. Falling? Topless in algebra? Teeth falling out? Cleaning the junior high boys’ bathroom?
Pretty blue eyes…bad man
“Tangwystl? Did you wake me up?”
Bad man
“What?” I tried not to sound peeved, but I hadn’t gotten any quality, non-coma sleep in a while. It had been glorious—while it lasted.
Rat
In slow increments, the tiny piston of my groggy mind started to chug away, and something clicked, letting me know that rats weren’t good. Rats… “Nuts!” A jolt of adrenaline rushed through me, and I hopped out of bed. More quietly, I asked, “Here? Now?”
Yes…I says you
Tangwystl’s petulance was hard to miss.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” I whispered as I tiptoed to the dresser. “Any chance you can help a girl out?”
A faint glimmer shone from the edge of the scabbard. I’d take that for a yes.
Whether I knew how to use a sword or not, I didn’t have anything else. I grabbed the hilt. My mind flitted to the gun in the kitchen. Too far.
I pulled her free.
Soft singing, just like before.
Holding the sword with both hands, I said quietly, “Any helpful hints?”
Pointy end out
I turned to the door and waited—pointy end out.
Several seconds passed with my heart thudding into the silence.
I wanted to shush it. It seemed like a bad idea, combining a loudly thudding heart and a prowling, murderous vamp. Then I remembered Wembley’s nugget of vamp wisdom: vamps didn’t drink vamp blood. I only wished knowing that helped.
I crept to the door as quietly as I could. Open the door? Investigate? Wait? I waited a few more seconds—which filled with silence.
Maybe Tangwystl was wrong.
The crash of shattering glass filled my ears. Humid, hot air pressed in on me. Stinging bites prickled the backs of my bare arms and legs.
I turned to the window, now shattered. Why hadn’t I thought about the window? I sucked at this.
“You do.”
“Ack!” He was inside. Inside the house. Inside my head. Ick. Ick-ick-ick. My flesh crawled.
A sharp nip at my shoulder cleared my head. The rat had bitten me. My sword tip rested uselessly on the ground, forgotten. I lifted Tangwystl and swung wildly.
By the time my spinning head told me I’d done more than a full circle or three, I realized the rat had retreated. Or was invisible…and insubstantial?
Or the spinning room was confusing me.
“Ow!”
Another sharp nip; this time my other shoulder.
“Tangwystl? Any helpful hints?” This time I tried to move the blade more than my body. If I fell on the ground from lightheadedness—all bad.
“How cute—a magic sword. But if you don’t know how to use it…”
Pain spiked as he sliced through the flesh on the back of my arm.
How? And where was Wembley? And why didn’t I have a gun? And why me?
“You’re pathetically whiny as a vamp. You’re almost as bad as you were before. And don’t be confused; you were an insufferably entitled bitch before.”
I gasped. “You did not. And I wasn’t.” I didn’t think I was.
He laughed. “And that gun you’re so interested in? Not very helpful against my kind.”
“You…you perv. You’ve been eavesdropping on my thoughts. My personal, private thoughts.”
I shot a few choice images his way.
He just laughed.
I twirled myself to the light switch near the door, the blade tip circling the air around me. I hated to do it—but I had to do it. I couldn’t fight what I couldn’t see.
I flicked the lights on. Just like I thought, I was blinded for a split second.
“Oooooh, you little rat.”
His attack had shredded my nightgown—my only nightgown—and dug a thin furrow in my back.
He had to be slashing with his fangs. Harder to get purchase on my back versus the fleshy part of my arm.
“I’m no rodent.”
I scanned the room. I was looking for that hazy, shimmering air that had given away Tangwystl. “Well, when you scurry around in the shadows, fearful of the light of day, you can see how I’d come to that conclusion.”
And there it was, not a shimmer; I caught a hint of blurred colors—movement. I lifted the tip of the blade and slashed. “Nuts!”
“I’m too fast for you, little baby vamp.” His voice placed him near the bed, but without movement, I couldn’t track him.
“Don’t suppose that’s what you meant by your kind and guns?”
He laughed. “This is fun. More fun than the humans.”
The humans. Mrs. A, Liz, my long-disappeared human self. Those three other woman—maybe more—who’d died secret, hidden deaths. I didn’t need Tangwystl to tell me my eyes weren’t pretty blue any more.
“I will end you.” And I believed I might. My vision had sharpened, and all of my senses vibrated like the very best of caffeine-sugar highs. I was ready.
“Will you?” He sounded amused. “Live a few decades, sweetie. Or a few centuries, and then maybe. Oh, how sad. You won’t make it that long.”
This time, I not only saw the blurred motion, but I traced it as the rat charged me. I slashed. A guttural noise escaped my throat. No hit.
So close. I’d missed—but so had he. I could feel the rub of my tiny fangs against my lower lip, and I might be snarling.
Too late
I practically spat in frustration. “I know that.”
Pointy edge out
“I got that part.” I wiggled the tip of the blade. “See?”
Guess rat’s bite…pointy edge out. A string of unintelligible words poured forth, followed by a groan of frustration. Predict?
And while I chatted with my less-than-helpful magical sword—“Owwweeee!”—the rat took a nice, piercing stab at my leg.
Panting, I yelled, “I am going to slice your balls off!”
Tears threatened—just what I needed. Bloody extremities and an acid bath. But then it clicked. Limited language skills, yes, but it was there. “Tangwystl, you angel.”
The rat snorted. “You’re so incredibly stupid. Tangwystl? What sword calls itself the broker of peace?”
My vamp-enhanced red-eye vision saw him approach. A little geometry, a small sidestep, and the rat impaled himself on my beautiful blade.
“Ha! Gotcha!”
And there he was, fully visible, on the end of my clever blade.
Pin to the wall! Stabby, stabby fast.
“Oh—right!” I scrambled and started to shove him toward the wall. Because who knew how fast he’d be, even with a huge hole in his side?
And that was when I realized that he was the bartender from the bar on Tuesday night. And even if he did wear skinny jeans, he was a lot bigger than me. And he was trying to un-impale himself.
“Nuts!” I shoved the blade as hard as I could—could feel it sink in another crunchy inch—but he was definitely stronger than me.
“Tangwystl,” I panted. “Might have a problem.” My bare feet started to slide on the bamboo flooring.
The bedroom door swung open.
Turn to see and maybe lose my footing…don’t turn and maybe Wembley accidentally-on-purpose shoots me. Hm.
“And here I thought you might need saving.”
Alex.
I almost crumpled in relief. With Alex and Wembley—surely Wembley was here somewhere—and me, we should be able to restrain one homicidal maniac.
“I’m not a homicidal maniac. You’re an insect with an inflated ego.”
“Aaaaaaaah!” Tangwystl slid another inch. “Stop reading my mind, you pervy…ugh…sicko…ugh…nut job!”
A hysterical giggle burbled. That must have been a few more inches.
As I was not so slowly losing my marbles and grunting my way to several more inches of gut-slicing damage, Alex walked behind the rat, slipped a cord around his neck, and had his ankles trussed to his throat in seconds.
“You can stop now.” Alex was definitely trying not to laugh. “And vamps don’t get breathless. I believe that’s what they call a psychosomatic response.”
Having someone tell you not to be out of breath—shockingly—doesn’t make you not out of breath. I let go of Tangwystl and backed away until I hit the wall. Then I leaned against it and slid down to the ground. Panting, I said, “Do we also not get sore muscles? Because liar, liar, pants on fire.” I rubbed my neck. “I hurt.”
Alex sobered. “I’m sorry. Maybe a warm bath?” He yanked my sword out of Bart the bartender.
“Can you guys get all lovey-dovey later? You’re going to make me puke.”
“Is it just me, or does this nutter seem very not concerned about being captured?” I accepted the bloodied sword with my left hand. The right didn’t want to move.
“It’s the n
ew order, baby vamp.” Black eyes stared into mine. His pupils were huge, with only tiny rings of pale grey iris. “Stayed under the radar; you can’t touch me.”
You’d think I’d be mad. Or burst into acid tears. Or simply twist the sword in his gut—since leaving it sticking in his midsection alone wasn’t causing him a lot of pain. No—I laughed.
And I laughed some more. My sides started to cramp, and I did eventually tear up. But what were a few poisonous tears shed? Because this was reminding me of a certain conversation in a certain office in a certain Society’s headquarters.
I dabbed at my eyes with my nightgown. “You idiot. You’re going to hang.”
“No way.” He looked genuinely confused. He’d killed who knew how many women—because we were insects with inflated egos? What did that even mean? But having committed those crimes, he truly believed he would not be punished.
“Can we just hang him here? Maybe in the backyard?” I asked.
Alex seemed to consider my words. “Eh, better not. Like he said, there is a new order. We’ll take Bart—Bart Kegler?—back to Society headquarters for that.”
“I don’t understand.” Bart looked dazed.
I’d thrown around the crazy tag a lot, but now he looked bewildered, like a five-year-old who knows he’s broken the rules but simply can’t comprehend that he’s being punished.
“You forgot about me.” I gave him a hard look. Those other women—the ones he’d tried to diminish with his small words—they’d get their justice through me. “I am not under the radar. I am very much a loud and visible error.”
“But…you’re basically an unapproved transformation.”
Alex shook his head. “The second unapproved transformation to appear in a human doctor’s office. The first went into full bloodlust at the office and seriously injured a nurse. Three unapproved transformations. Three very public incidents.”