All Souls’ Night: A Midnight Doms Boxset

by Renee Rose

  “Really? I mean, great.” She doesn’t usually have this much energy, but it sounds awesome. And we need to get away from Eddie, so his ugly mood doesn’t poison ours.

  “I’ll just order the food for Eddie. Don’t worry. You and I will eat better, mija. We’ll go to that café you like, the one where the sun makes patterns on the glass.” She looks a little sad again.

  “Great!” I grab my purse, too, and slide on my sneakers. This is turning out to be a perfect weekend… the night with Locke, the promise of more time with him, and now a full day with Abuela. Life can’t get any better.

  The day goes by full of fun, but when I pull the car up in front of the house that evening, things go wrong. Fast.

  The door is hanging open a few inches, gaping like a mouth without teeth. All the lights are out, too.

  “Oh, no.” A sick feeling comes over me. “What’s going on?” I put my hand onto Abuela’s arm. “Just wait a minute, okay? I’m going to go check it out.”

  I get out of the car and head to the front door.

  “Eddie?” I call out once, then again, as I push the door a few inches wider. “Hello?”

  I debate whether to go in or not. It could be that he simply left the door open, but something about the dark house makes me feel uneasy.

  There’s no answer. “Eddie? Are you in there?” I call louder.

  It’s silent, so I figure it’s safe enough to push the door all the way open, and fumble with my hand on the wall for the light switch.

  “Oh, no.” I put my hand to my mouth and step back. “Fuck. Oh God.”

  The room is torn apart. Couch cushions slashed; stuffing tumbling out like the guts of slaughtered livestock. Abuela’s figurines are smashed, white porcelain shards dotting the carpet like sharp snow.

  I step back out, one foot, then run to the sidewalk. With trembling hands, I dial 911 as I head back to my car. “There’s been a break-in at my house. Please send help.” I give the address and get into the vehicle, to hide, to be safe, in case the thieves are still in there. If anyone comes running out, Abuela and I can just drive away.

  “Abuela, it’s going to be okay. I promise.” I try to take her hand, but I’m crying so hard I can’t see. “We’ll fix this. It will be okay.”

  The police arrive some indeterminable time later, and it’s as dreary and awful as on crime shows: the questions. The attitude. The heavy footsteps, the dismissive glances at our ruined home…

  Some paperwork. Questions. More attitude. Were there drugs here, maybe, could that be what the thieves were searching for? Am I sure there were no drugs? If they bring in a dog, would the dog sniff drugs? If I tell them now, things will go more smoothly.

  I bristle, angry: they back down. Still, it’s clear that they don’t care. We’ll be relegated to the trash bin of files. Our case is unimportant.

  Eddie is nowhere to be found, and his phone goes right to voicemail. I don’t know if he left the door open and thieves found it that way, or if it’s a random happening, but for sure it would be helpful if he could be here to help us clean up.

  Disgusted, I give up trying to contact him. Abuela sits at the kitchen table, her eyes moist. Her face looks paler than usual. “I can’t change it,” she whispers, staring at the table.

  “Can’t change what?” I put my arms around her, feeling how frail she is.

  “Never mind.” She sounds hopeless for the very first time in her life.

  “We’ll fix this. Clean up. I’ll buy an alarm system.” I wince, not knowing how I’ll be able to afford it. “It won’t happen again.”

  “I think I need to go lie down.” Her voice is slow and a little slurred.

  I check her face to make sure she’s okay, but she’s just tired, so I help her to her room and start cleaning up all of the debris.

  I know I should call friends—my girls are amazing and they’ll be over in a heartbeat to help out—but the person I really want to talk to is Locke. Still, we’ve just started our thing—would he care about this? Are we close enough for me to call him?

  I don’t have to wonder about that for long, because the phone rings, and it’s him.

  Chapter 13

  I expect to hear her usual bright voice, but when she answers the phone, I can hear the tension and anxiety in just the way she says, “Hello?”

  “Temi, what’s wrong?” The urge to protect her wells up.

  “We had a break in.” She starts to cry. “The house is trashed. The police were total assholes and practically accused me of deserving it because they suspected I run a drug den, or something.” Now she’s sobbing. “All of Abuela’s stuff is ruined. I can’t afford to fix it. I don’t know what to do.”

  “I’ll be right there.” I grab my keys and start walking as I talk.

  “You don’t have to—”

  “Wait for me.” I hang up the phone and get into my car. I could go faster if I blur and travel like a vampire can, but I need to be practical, too—she can’t know about my true nature.

  My Porsche gets me there in minutes, and soon enough, she’s let me into the front room.

  I take her into my arms. “Temi.”

  She collapses against me. “It’s so horrible. Shut the door. I don’t want them to come back.”

  I close it and lock it. “As long as I’m here, nothing will happen, do you understand?” I look into her eyes. My voice is a low growl. “I mean it.”

  She blinks at my expression, then her face relaxes. “Thank you, Locke.” She just stays in my arms for a minute. Then she pushes away. “But I can’t rely on you for—”

  “Yes, you can. I’m here for you.” I take her arms in my hands and look right at her. “I’m here.” Fuck the whole vampires-and-humans-can’t-mix thing. I care about her, and I’m going to be with her if she needs me.

  “Okay.” Her voice wobbles. “I’d offer to have you sit down, but the couch isn’t exactly in the best shape right now.” She sniffles.

  “It’s fine.” I just hold her. “Do they have any idea who did this?”

  “No. They don’t care. And I don’t know, but I wonder if…” her voice trails off.

  “If what?”

  “I shouldn’t even say it. He’s my half-brother. It’s just that Eddie has some unsavory friends. I don’t know.” She shrugs against my chest. “It’s just an idea. And the door was left open, not broken. I don’t know.”

  “What’s his full name?” I’ll ask my vampire friend Slash, an IT and hacking expert, to do a full run-down on him and all his acquaintances. It won’t be hard for Slash to get the information.

  “Eddie Martinez Vasquez. Do you know him?”

  “No.” My voice is short. “Do you want to come to my house tonight?”

  “I can’t. Abuela is here, sleeping. She might need me. And I need to take care of her.”

  “Then I’ll stay with you until you feel better.”

  “That might take a while. Can you stay for a few weeks?” She laughs and wipes her eyes. “Just kidding.”

  For a split second, I want to tell her: yes.

  Of course, I can’t really stay here for a few weeks. Not even a few days. We vampires need to succumb to our daytime torpor in the safety of a sun-proof lair, or risk being burnt to ash. But damned if I don’t wish I could bring her to my home and protect her there.

  “And a really good thing happened, but now I’m not even excited about it.” Temi bites her lip, and suddenly she looks way too shaky.

  I lead her into the kitchen, open a cabinet for a cup, and pour her a glass of water. “Sit down and tell me the good thing.”

  “Remember what you said in the room of lights? About getting my work out there?” She sits on the edge of the chair, still full of nervous energy.

  I remember a lot of things about that room. “Yes.” I sit next to her.

  “Well, I’ve submitted my artwork to various places. And I got accepted for a huge important gallery exhibit for the city of Tucson. I heard from them today. It wa
s so awesome, and then—this happened.” She gestures around the room, even though the kitchen itself is not as trashed as the front room.

  “Congratulations!” I lean forward and take both her hands in mine. “You deserve it. More honors will come. You are talented.”

  “Thank you.” She smiles for a second, happy, then the worry returns. “But that won’t pay the bills, not yet. And I need to figure all this out.” She slumps into her arms. “God, why do things like this happen? I hope I don’t have to drop out of school.”

  “Why would you need to do that?”

  “To pick up more hours at the warehouse. Eddie doesn’t contribute much around here, and I’m going to need to get things fixed up. Get an alarm system.”

  I have the money—I could buy her a thousand alarm systems. A million couches and glass figurines. Hell, I could buy her a whole set of mansions, one for each day of the week.

  But I instinctively know that offering to pay for her troubles, to fix it all, will not go over well. She’ll see it as patronizing, an insult, all the bad things.

  “You’ll figure it out.” I believe she will. Just wish I could help.

  “Will you stay with me? Just—lie down with me?” Her voice is low. “I really do feel better with you here. Safer. You know?” Before I can answer, she interrupts herself. “I mean, I could call some friends. They can come and help me clean and stay with me. I’ll call them tomorrow, too. But if you’re busy tonight, I could call them right now…” She trails off.

  “I’m staying.” My voice is firm. “You don’t need to call anyone else.”

  “I need to start cleaning.”

  “First, you need to rest.” I lead her to her bedroom, where she pretty much collapses onto the coverlet and falls into a deep slumber the instant her body touches the fabric.

  I sigh, arrange myself beside her, and pull her into my arms. She hums a little bit and her eyelids flutter, then she settles back into me.

  “Rest,” I whisper into her ear. Just a suggestion, hopefully, that she’ll take to heart.

  I don’t sleep during the night. I quickly blur around the house, cleaning up trash, arranging what’s salvageable, and ensuring all the broken shards of glass are removed from the carpet. Even though I know she won’t want a ton of help, I make a few calls to vampire friends who have business contacts and set up some workmen to come tomorrow: glass replacement for the windows. A new lock for the front door. And someone to look into the step-brother.

  Then I come back and hold her again, keeping watch with my keen perception, listening in case the intruders return. But no persons approach the house; the only things that stir are a pair of scorpions on the patio, and a Gila monster whose fat tail rustles softly in the dried grass at the edge of the carport. He flicks the air with his tongue, and wanders off in search of a meal.

  As dawn approaches, I kiss her forehead. “Temi, I have to go. I’ll be back tonight to check on you.”

  She opens her eyes briefly then shuts them. “Okay.”

  Fuck, this is the kind of situation where I wish I had the ability to stay out in the day. At least I can be back at nightfall.

  Chapter 14

  Things look a little better in the gray light of the morning, because the dark is tinged with yellow and orange. Hope. To make myself feel better, I put on the earrings. It’s a small thing, maybe a stupid thing, but they make me feel better.

  I walk around the house, marveling at the changes: Locke must have been up all night, cleaning up. But I swear I remember him holding me when I woke up from time to time. Either way, I slept far better than I could have expected, and I’m entirely grateful for what he did. The house looks bare and sad, but at least it’s not a garbage wreck.

  I check the fridge, finding that the eggs and vegetables are still intact, although things like milk cartons were slashed, and glass bottles were destroyed. But thanks to Locke, all of that is cleaned up.

  I decide to make some omelets for myself and Abuela—if she’s okay. I remember the way her voice slurred, and a sick feeling makes me cold. What if she had a stroke in the night? I open her door with some foreboding, and I’m relieved to see her stirring a little, moving her foot, her arm.

  “Temi?” Her voice is rough. “We can clean today.”

  “Yes, but there won’t be that much to do, luckily. My friend already did it for us, most of it. Locke. He stayed all night.”

  She sits up on her bed. “I thought he might. He seems like he really cares for you.”

  “How can you tell? You haven’t even met him.” My voice goes up in surprise. “Although, he does.” I touch my cheek. The look in his eyes matches the feeling in my heart. Although we’ve known each other for the shortest time, I feel like it’s been years. Like we’re meant to be together. I hope he feels the same.

  “I just have a feeling about him. I’m okay, mija.” She looks at me as if chastising me for wondering if she had a stroke. I’ll be out in a few minutes.” But she’s really shaky as she sits up, and her face is gray.

  “All right.”

  She doesn’t eat a thing or take a single sip of coffee. She just sits there at the table, looking around with a glazed expression. I can’t tell if she’s overwhelmed with the situation, or feeling sick.

  But later on, I decide to take her to the Urgent Care despite her protestations. She’s clearly not right. She’s become even more pale and seems shaky, a little out of it, although she’s sweating on her forehead and her hands are clammy.

  Abuela is remarkably compliant as I get her into the car and then into the standalone ER (it was closer than the Urgent Care), which isn’t good. To my relief, the physician on duty, a Dr. Melissa Vega, comes back in after running some tests: an EKG, some blood work—and says Abuela is just dehydrated. And that her blood sugar is far too low due to her diabetes.

  “She has diabetes? But she never had that before.” I’m confused and relieved all at once. “How did she get that now?”

  “Some people develop it later in life. You can manage it with medication.” The doctor turns to Abuela. “We’ll get you started on the right dose, okay?” Her eyes are kind despite her busy demeanor. “Your primary care doctor will follow up and help you manage the dosage on a regular basis.”

  When the doctor leaves the room, Abuela turns to me. “You see? I knew I was fine.” But she closes her eyes. She seems exhausted.

  “We’re going to put in an IV to help her rehydrate, and we’d like her to stay until we get her blood sugar balanced and verify that she’s safe to leave.” A nurse comes in with a hand-held device. “Is that all right, Mrs…” she checks the screen, “Garcia?”

  “Mmm.” Abuela doesn’t open her eyes for a second, then when she does, it seems to take effort. “Oh, yes. That’s okay.”

  “Can I stay with her?” I grab Abuela’s hand. “I’m her granddaughter. I’m family.”

  “Yes, of course.” The nurse smiles. “I’ll be back in a few minutes with the IV, okay?”

  I nod. “Thank you.”

  Abuela sighs. “Temi. You’re good to me.”

  “You’re good to me.” I squeeze her hand. “You’re going to be fine. It’s just the shock of the break in. It messed with your body a little bit. But everything will go back to normal.”

  “Not for you.” Her voice is so quiet, it’s barely a whisper.

  “Of course it will. I’ll figure out how to make school happen, and more hours at work. Don’t you worry about any of it. Please. Just, let’s get you feeling better.”

  “I need you to do something for me.” She opens her eyes. “Can you go to the house and get the oatmeal box out? It’s still there.”

  “Are you sure? Maybe the thieves found it.”

  “No, he didn’t find it.” She sighs. “I need you to go there and open it up. Take out the jewelry box at the bottom, the other one. It has a special brooch. Will you put it on, for me? Before you come back, you need to put it on. Please.” She touches my chest on the left
side. “Wear it right here. Promise me. I need to see it on you.”

  “Later, Abuelita.” I smooth her forehead. “I don’t need jewelry right now. I’m staying with you.”

  “No!” She sits up suddenly, breathing hard, her voice almost angry. “Please. I need you to get it. This is important. You need to do this!”

  “Abuela, no. I’m not leaving you.” I’m sort of amused and worried at the same time.

  “I just don’t know when it’s going to happen.” She shakes her head back and forth. “So you need to do it right away. Please.”

  “What?” I wrinkle my brow. “Abuela?”

  The nurse comes back in with some equipment. “Is she okay?” she asks. She comes over. “Mrs. Garcia?” She glances at me and picks up Abuela’s arm. “Her pulse is rapid.”

  “She’s worried about something.” I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

  “I’ll be fine here.” Abuela looks at me with such a serious gaze that I’m taken aback. She turns to the nurse. “My granddaughter is going to do something of great importance. Then she will come back.” Her eyes burn. “Please.” She breathes harder.

  The nurse’s gaze shows compassion. “She’s really going to be fine. If you need to leave and get something for her, that’s okay. I promise.” She glances to the heart rate monitor and then at me.

  “Okay, I’ll go get it.” I don’t like how worked up Abuela is, and I just want her to relax. “I’ll get it. I’ll be back in half an hour.”

  Abuela closes her eyes. “Good.” Her whole body looks lighter, easier.

  In the car on the way back home, I’m confused and frustrated. Why does Abuela care so much about the brooch? I hated leaving her, but it really made her relax when I finally said yes.

  I assume her mind is a little messy from the low blood sugar and the dehydration—I know that can make people irrational. Even have them seeing things that aren’t real.