Some Were In Time

by Robyn Peterman

  "Why do I feel like such an asshole then?" I asked.

  "Because you're a good person."

  "With a nice ass?" I asked

  "With a great ass," he assured me.

  "Thank you."

  "Welcome."

  "You'll understand why I'm making you tell me this in a few minutes. What you'll see will convince you why I will never in my life share the location of your hoard. You just have to give me something worth dying for because what I'm about to show you—I would definitely give my life for," I told her.

  Her stare came from miles away. I was cognizant this was costing her more than I was able to comprehend, but I didn't care. My granny's safety was worth more than any piece of gold.

  "It's here," she ground out through clenched teeth. "It's under this house."

  "Where?" Hank asked.

  "In a tunnel off the dungeon. The third hallway. I'll show you."

  "No. If I need to find it the information you gave me is enough," I said as I started moving again.

  I could scent Granny. She smelled different, but I could still tell it was her.

  "I'm coming," I whispered. "You'd better be the good kind of dead, Bobby Sue, or I'll kill you myself."

  ***

  "Holy shit," Dima muttered as we stood on the far side of the room and watched.

  Granny's body flailed violently and there was blood spattered everywhere. It looked like a bad B horror movie. She was tangled up in the sheets and moaning in agony. Dwayne gently pulled them away and tried to calm her. My heart was in my throat and my instinct to run to her was overwhelming. It was a very good thing Hank, Dima and Pat were strong. Holding me back was not easy—evidenced by the grunting, sweating and swearing.

  Pat had been correct, the dungeon was really just the basement of a very nice house without any windows. The room Granny was in was large and had been converted into a mini hospital. She looked tiny as she lay in the middle of the huge bed and thrashed. She was hooked up to monitors that were not beeping—a very good sign Pat assured me as I clenched and unclenched my fists in panic.

  Bags of blood on ice were in containers on the counters that lined the room and a pile of restraints sat on a table next to the bed. It was somehow comforting that she wasn't tied down during her Death Sleep. The Cows hustled around and did all they could to make her comfortable.

  I was so focused on my granny, I hadn't even noticed the Vampyres. At least a dozen of them floated around the room above eye level. They were inhumanly beautiful and clearly concerned about the shit show going on below. Their eyes were glued to the Cows with quick glances spared for Granny and Dwayne. My BFF was correct. The Vamps had it bad for the Cows and the Cows could care less. If life as I knew it wasn't about to detonate in my face, I would have giggled at the how ridiculous the situation was.

  "She's not going to make it," I whispered as I watched the horrific scene play out before me.

  "We don't know that yet," Hank replied tightly.

  I'd made the wrong choice and my Granny's suffering would be on my head for as long as I lived. Hindsight was twenty-twenty. If I had it to do over, I would have let her die with the dignity she deserved. I had no idea how much it was possible to loath myself. I rocked forward and tried my best not to sob. Hank's arms around me were of little solace. I wanted to feel the same pain Granny was feeling. It was the very least I could do for her.

  "Get up, girlie, but stay over there in case I do something weird—not quite feeling like myself. I could eat the entire spread at Burt's Buffet and Karaoke," a ragged and beloved voice called from the bed. "What in the hell am I wearing and where am I?"

  My eyes filled and my voice caught in my throat. I stayed put, but it was difficult. She looked bad, but she was as alive as a dead person could be and she was talking. Good—this was very good.

  "It's Prada," Dwayne said with so much relief in his melodic voice I calmed down. "Or it least it was before you destroyed it, old lady."

  "Who you callin' old, you bald-headed bloodsucker," Granny grunted as she tried to sit up and fell backwards immediately. "You wanna tell me why I wanna bite you and feel like I've been put through a paper shredder?"

  "You don't remember?" Hank asked as he took a tentative step toward my granny, only to be blocked by concerned Cows.

  She looked over at us in confusion and my gut tightened. Did she recognize Hank? Or me?

  "You're a fine-looking young man," she said as she squinted at him. "I know you, but I can't quite place you, sugar."

  "What about me?" I asked louder than I intended. I stepped forward and pushed my way past the Cows. If she bit me and drained me, it would be no less than I deserved. "Do you know me?"

  "I do, Essie," she said slowly as she ran her hands nervously through her hair. "Where are your mamma and daddy? Are they with you? Did you find them? They'll be so excited to see you."

  I closed my eyes and forced a smile. She knew me, but it was all jumbled. She didn't remember my parents were dead and I didn't think now was the right time to tell her. I was still unclear exactly what she was… a Wolf slash Vampyre—a Vampyre only? It didn't really matter as long as she was still here. Hopefully, she would remember everything. If she didn't, she didn't. I still wanted to know why she didn't defend herself from the feral Wolves, but I might never know the truth behind that one.

  "I haven't seen them for a bit, but I'm looking for them," I told her. It wasn't even a lie. I was looking for what happened to my parents and I would make the person responsible for their death pay. "I want to hug you. Would that be okay?" I asked in a voice that sounded small and childlike to my own ears. Hank's hand on my back felt good this time. I needed him.

  She looked to Dwayne for confirmation that she wouldn't hurt me. "What am I?" she asked.

  Dwayne tilted his head to the side and grinned. "You're perfect. Not quite sure how we'll define you yet, but I can say with certainty you are one of a kind."

  "I was always one of a kind," Granny informed the entire room. "Anyone wanna tell me why a gaggle of dead guys are flying over my head? And yes, Essie, I would very much like a hug from you. However, if I bite you please feel free to punch me in the head. Hard."

  "Um… okay," I said as I carefully approached.

  "Am I really okay to be near her?" Granny asked Dwayne. There was fear written on her face.

  "Yes," he promised. "And I will be right here to deck your skinny old ass if you do anything out of the ordinary."

  "Thank you," she said as she squeezed him lovingly. "Get over here, little girl, and bring your good lookin' lug with you. He looks like he's gonna have a heart attack if you leave his side."

  "It's Hank, Granny. He's my mate," I told her as I crawled up on the bed and got close.

  She put her hands to her temples and closed her eyes. "I remember. Alpha. Sheriff. Gave it all up because he loves my girl so much he can't live without her… Hank," she said with such relief in her voice I almost cried.

  "That's right, Granny," I said as I took her very cold hand in mine.

  Was this her new temperature? Whatever—cold hands, warm heart. Or dead heart… whatever.

  "I died, didn't I? And Dwayne brought me back?" she asked as she held tight to my hand.

  I nodded, not sure what I could say and not say. The last thing I wanted to do was upset her.

  "I can't remember any more than that," she snapped, frustrated. "Why can't I remember?"

  "Well," Dwayne said logically. "It's common to block out unpleasant things, like how you died. It will probably all come roaring back at a dinner party or the mall—someplace totally inconvenient and embarrassing. It’s what happened to me and don't even ask Vlad what he experienced," Dwayne said as he pointed to a good-looking dead dude flying along the perimeter of the room.

  "Oh dear god, it was awful. I'm still in therapy and it happened eight hundred years ago," Vlad told us with a shudder and a groan.

  While curious about Vlad, it wasn't the time or the place to ge
t into it. I just wanted Granny to be okay. If she needed therapy, I would get her therapy. I'd get her whatever she needed.

  "Sweet Baby Jesus in a thong," she muttered as she squeezed my hand. "Maybe amnesia is the way to go. Essie, just hold my hand, baby. I'm a little nervous about being too close to your neck."

  "Roger that," I said as I squeezed her hand back.

  If I was honest, I was a little nervous too. I could feel Hank's freaked out emotions coming off of him in waves.

  "Alrightyroo," Dwayne said as he hopped off the bed, dragging me with him. "I want my girls to feed Granny. Vamps, if it gets back to me that you have touched any of my daughters’ asses again I will remove your hands. Literally."

  "Daddy," Pat said sheepishly. "I told Vlad he could touch my butt."

  Dwayne was at a loss. His girls were growing up fast. I watched him seriously consider having a hissy fit and then decide against it. "Well, fine then," he huffed, giving a gloating Vlad the evil eye. "If you want your bottom defiled by a Vampyre, so be it."

  "Thank you," Pat said, missing all of the passive aggression Dwayne was throwing at the floating Vamps.

  With an eye roll and a put upon sigh, Dwayne steered Hank, Dima and myself out of the room.

  "Where are we going?" I asked as I waved bye to Granny.

  "We're going to Dima's room. I've been curious about her room for forty years," Dwayne said.

  "I'm sorry, what?" Dima gasped and almost fell to the ground.

  "Don't be coy. It doesn't become you," Dwayne said dismissively. "I've never gone in. I have respect for other's property… unlike others I know."

  "You know about my room?" She was positively flabbergasted.

  "When you walked in I recognized your scent," he said as he led the way down a maze of hallways.

  "But I've never seen you here."

  "And I've never seen you, but I'm a Vamp. I know when someone has been in my home. Actually, quite a few of you have traipsed through, but you stayed. I wondered what you would look like. Your scent is lovely."

  "I suppose I should say thank you and sorry at the same time," she mumbled as she continued to get paler and paler as we got closer to her hoard.

  "You're welcome and no problem," Dwayne replied as we rounded a corner and Dima fell to her knees.

  "You have to understand what's in the room is not evil. I know this is not my home, but I will kill any of you who try to harm my hoard," she said as she crawled to a wall, stood and plastered herself against it.

  "What the hell is in there?" I muttered.

  Dima eyed us warily and then slowly chanted a spell that opened the wall. I held my breath and waited to be attacked by something vicious, but I couldn't have been more surprised.

  A baby boy, gold and silver Dragon flew out followed by three smiling female Dragons in human form. The baby was roughly the size of a large ape and was babbling up a storm as it flew with joyous abandon toward Dima.

  "Mommy," the baby Dragon squealed. "Me love me mommy!"

  It tackled Dima and covered her in wet sloppy baby Dragon kisses. My heart was in my mouth. Her hoard was her child—not jewels and money. She had hidden her child from danger. I now knew why killing her father was so imperative to her. She was going to possibly die in nine months, leaving her precious child without protection.

  "This is what I would die for," she said as she stared hard at Dwayne, Hank and myself. "My own father killed my child's father. Now I am going to end the murderous bastard's life."

  "I get it," I said as I reached out to touch the baby Dragon.

  "Daniel, shift, my love. Shift back for Mommy and meet her friends," Dima said in a voice so filled with love I felt like I was watching something I shouldn't.

  The baby Dragon shimmered as he went from Dragon form to the human body of a beautiful four-year-old boy. He was shyer in his human body. He ran behind his mother and peeked out.

  "Heather, Kathleen and Melissa, these are my new friends. Meet Essie, Hank and Dwayne," Dima said as she introduced us to the women who were clearly looking after her child. "Dwayne is the owner of the house and our unintentional host."

  "I am now your intentional host and I insist you not hide this child and his caretakers in a small room under a tunnel. You will have the run of the house, but you are probably safer staying in the dungeon area until you have dealt with your father," Dwayne told them.

  The three caregivers bowed to him while Dima gave him a grateful nod.

  "You are Wampyre," Daniel said as he pointed at Dwayne with a huge toothless grin.

  "Yes, I am… and you are a Dragon. Do you think we can be friends?" he asked as he squatted down and addressed the child.

  "Yes, me do," Daniel said as he put out a small hand to shake Dwayne's.

  "You be Wolf, but you are diffwent," Daniel said as he pointed at Hank and me.

  "How are we different, little man?" Hank asked as he got down next to Dwayne to talk to the boy.

  "You no have red eyes. Me like the red eye Wolves. People be afraid, but not me," he explained in a very serious four-year-old way.

  "The feral Wolves—he's talking about the feral Wolves," I said.

  "Well, that makes sense," Hank said.

  "How so?" I asked.

  "They know the boy is here. He’s why they won't leave the perimeter of Dwayne's property," he said.

  "Dang it, you're smart," I said with a shake of my head. I knew Junior was MENSA, but I wondered now if Hank was too. Hell, if he was then our kids had a chance of being amazing…as long as they got all of his genes. My genes liked to skip classes.

  "Sounds possible," Dima said thoughtfully, "but the Wolves wouldn't give away the location of Daniel."

  "Do you know these Wolves personally?" I asked, wondering if she'd been straight with us earlier.

  "No, most of them want nothing to do with Dragons. However, there are two who seem attracted to Daniel."

  "Does your father know of Daniel's existence?" Hank asked as he picked the child up and put him on his shoulders, much to the small Dragon's delight.

  "He suspects," Dima said darkly. "He's not sure. Hardly anyone has ever seen Daniel and no one will until it's safe."

  "Okey dokey," Dwayne said as he took Daniel from Hank's shoulders and handed him back to his caretakers. "We need to get back upstairs and figure out a game plan for a game where we have no real clue who the players are, what the rules are, or what the end goal is."

  "Sounds like my kind of plan," I said. "It’s a weird one, but since I don't have anything better I'll go with it."

  Dima kissed her child and sealed the wall with a reverse spell. We quickly made our way back to the Great Room and sat down to figure out what the hell was going on.

  Way easier said than done…

  Chapter 20

  We sat in the Great Room and mulled the possibilities.

  "So you think the Council is out there somewhere and is going to use Angela, with the horrendous dress sense, as bait to get to you?" Dwayne asked, trying to clarify.

  "Possibly," I said. "Is there any way they'd know about Granny's situation?"

  "No, I don't think so," he said.

  "Edward and Spike are friendly with the Dragons and the Council," Vlad called down from the rafters of the room as he tattled on his comrades.

  "If you're going to speak, then get your dead ass down here," Dwayne reprimanded the Vamp.

  "For enough money they'd talk to anyone," Vlad informed us as he floated down to the floor.

  "I don't know," I said with a firm shake of my head. "This situation is stranger than that. It's been like one big elaborate set up for something. We've been attacked several times in the last week."

  "You told Angela that Dwayne and your grandmother were in Michigan when we were at the zoo," Dima reminded me.

  "Mother-humper… I did."

  "I certainly hope you were paid well," Vlad said with distaste at my perceived faux pas.

  "She's a good guy. She's on our side, De
ad Dude," I snapped at him. "Oh my God, do you think they beat it out of her?"

  "It's possible," Hank replied.

  "Why does the Council want you dead?" Dima asked.

  "We're not a hundred percent sure," Hank said as he touched my shoulder possessively, "but we think it's because they don't want her looking into the death of her parents."

  "Which leads me to believe the Council was involved," I added with very little emotion.