“Are you all right?” asked Floraidh. She went over to the man, patting him on the shoulder as she hovered.
“I think something just stung me,” he said. He grabbed at the back of his arm, began rubbing it. “Lucky thing I’m not allergic to bees.” The whole time he spoke, Iona signed to Viv, who did a remarkable job of catching the gist of her conversation while also taking in the view, since her eyes often wandered off course. She signed something to Cole, whose brows rose into his unruly bangs before they dropped back to base.
He said, “Viv wonders if it was an Africanized bee. They like to swarm, you know.”
“We have no Africanized bees here,” Floraidh responded instantly.
“How do you know?” asked Rhona.
“I simply wouldn’t allow it.” She went to the back of the van, grabbed a couple of cases that contained our ghost hunting supplies, and said, “Shall we go inside? I believe the opening ceremonies start in just under an hour, which will give you time to unpack and freshen up before we must be off.”
“Oh, you’re going too?” I asked. We’d figured whoever was tailing Floraidh on any given shift would be spending craploads of time hanging around Tearlach. Now it looked like our plans were changing.
Floraidh’s laugh trickled out her bow of a mouth like a bright meadow stream. “Of course. I haven’t missed a GhostCon in ten years! I always bring a tableful of goodies to sell. Homemade cookies, puddings, and shortbreads to tempt people to stay at Tearlach next year. But my biggest sellers are the protection amulets and charms I bring for ghost hunters who fear to meet angry souls during their journeys.” She put her hand beside her mouth, as if she was sharing a state secret. “I get them from a Wiccan in Edinburgh.”
“Ah.”
She led the way through the trellis, past garden beds lined with gray rocks bigger than my head. I didn’t recognize all the flowers, but I knew a lily when I saw one. And damned if she didn’t have some poisonous bloomers growing among the innocents, including foxglove and a couple of different kinds of nightshade. Though it was a beautiful evening and most hosts might’ve suggested we enjoy the gardens, she towed us right inside. Which meant the subject of our mysterious stranger fell flat on the walk, half chewed and regurgitated, just like the cigar Jack had eaten.
Next to it lay my Spirit Eye, snoozing. Oh sure, I’d sensed the Scidairans the second they’d walked out of the B and B. Big whoop, I’d expected that dark tweak to my Sensitivity. The fact that nothing else had stirred it, though I’d met every other guest, had left me thoroughly disappointed. Surely a Medusa scented at least as gross as your typical vamp. But everybody who was a suspect seemed . . . normal. And that should’ve been my first clue that most of them weren’t.
Chapter Six
Tearlach tried to reach out and embrace us. The second we entered the arched double doorway of the bed-and-breakfast’s wide central hall where we temporarily stowed our luggage, we found ourselves surrounded by homey details designed to remind us of Granny’s house. If Granny had been rich.
To our left a floor-to-ceiling pocket door had been opened to reveal a room that could be closed off at its far end by a similar door. But Floraidh had also slid that aside to reveal the room’s twin. Just what a B and B needs. Double lounges with fireplaces at each end and comfy chairs upholstered in pink and blue, as if to give the boys and girls a clue where to sit. At our end of the house the chairs grouped around a TV; I figured Floraidh’s for the comfy one beside which sat a basket full of multicolored balls of yarn.
The second lounge had been arranged for games. A chess set had been erected at a table for two by the window, while a bigger table in the middle of the room was reserved for your choice of the boxed funsies stacked on the shelves at its left. On the clean white walls hung old family portraits whose oval frames were probably more valuable than the glassware and rose-patterned china sitting in the cabinet in the corner opposite the TV.
Doilies on the arm cushions, fluffy pillows, and flowered curtains at the windows all conveyed a sense of femininity that I questioned. Could a guy really get comfortable in a twenty-foot-long gossip pit that smelled of potpourri and sprouted figurines like weeds? Hell, could I?
Looking around for an answer to that question, I spied a fancy staircase to my right. According to the B and B’s Web site, this led to the guest rooms. Ours should be on the second floor, which meant the other guests took up the third level, with Floraidh and Dormal staying on the fourth. I wandered past the stairs to scope out the dining room, which held a twelve-person table and matching oak sideboard. Over the table hung a candelier that held dozens of red pillars of varying heights. The table, already set for breakfast, glittered with polished silver. Neatly folded red napkins rested in gold-rimmed bowls, which sat on matching plates. It should’ve pleased the eye. Except mine had evolved. Unfortunately the same couldn’t be said for the rest of my family.
Albert came up beside me, nudged my arm, and said in as low a voice as he could muster, “This setup is better advertising than a McDonald’s commercial. All of a sudden I’m starving.”
“We just ate,” I reminded him as I turned, putting the yellow pine woodwork that framed the dining room’s entrance to my back.
“It didn’t stick with me.” He looked at Vayl, who’d quickly moved to join us. Could he sense trouble brewing? Well, he wasn’t completely dead. “You’re hungry too, right?” Albert asked him. “Big guy like you?”
Vayl dropped me an amused glance. “Always,” he replied.
“See that? Your boss is famished. Get us some food.”
I uncrossed my arms so hard one of my fists connected with the trim behind me. I didn’t tell him I’d been looking for an excuse to check out the kitchen. It stood at the back of the house behind a pass-through to the dining room and a sturdy oak door, both of which were closed. I didn’t say a word. Just glared and wished I’d been switched at birth.
Albert misread my look. He said, “Oh, yeah, Floraidh.” He dropped his voice another notch. “Don’t worry. I’ll watch her while you make me a sandwich. Lunch meat is fine. Go heavy on the mustard, wouldja?” Without even a pause to give me time to decide whether I wanted to wring his neck or test my theory that holy water would turn him into steaming glop just like a vampire, he stumped back into the front lounge. “Hey, there, Floraidh. This is quite a place you’ve got here. Would a lovely young thing like you have time to give an old man the grand tour?”
That’s never going to work, I thought as I followed him back. She and Dormal obviously have something brewing. Look at them—oh for—well, hell, who thought the old fart could make a Scidairan giggle? Especially a grizzly like Dormal? Holy crap, they’re all going off together! It’s like a scene out of Shrek: Uncensored and Uncut. I’d really like to know where he draws the line. Because at this point, I think there’s nothing he won’t do for a snack.
As Cole and the girls carried on a private, unspoken conversation at the back part of the twin room, Rhona stomped up to Vayl and me, the Haighs following her like a couple of acolytes.
She cleared her throat, though we’d already turned toward her. “I would like to know if your employee, Albert, is eligible.” Behind her Lesley’s hand flew up to her mouth to capture her shocked gasp. And then I could see the reasoning wind behind her eyes like a stock exchange ticker tape. Oh, well, they’re American. This is probably how they operate.
I stole a look at Vayl, whose eyes had crinkled at the corners. Oh goody, at least one of us found this situation amusing. “Uh—”
“The reason I ask”—Rhona charged on—“is that I am a widow with a great deal to handle. For instance, the ghostly community is far too disorganized for its own good. As I note in my presentation, disreputable hoteliers and GhostWalk guides routinely take advantage of their unfortunate situation, forcing them to linger when they have the means to find the peace they so desperately crave. My goal is to help ghosts form a sort of union, which will at least afford them certain rights
and privileges until such time as they are ready and willing to take the next step. And, even in that plane, the innocents must find a way to protect themselves against the evil souls who have not been rounded up to be punished. But I find it so difficult to pursue the task alone. Especially with Viv requiring so much care.”
“Oh.” Sounded like a load of horseshit to me. Especially after I glanced at Viv, who seemed pretty healthy, her focus glued to Cole like every word that dripped from his lips to his fingertips should be commemorated in the Library of Congress.
“So . . . about Albert?” Rhona asked, her black button eyes bright with anticipation.
“He’s divorced. And she’s dead.”
“Is she a ghost?” asked Rhona.
“No.” Should we be thankful for that small favor? Can I get a hell yeah?
“Is there anyone he’s interested in?” Rhona persisted. “If I am to compete with any women besides Floraidh and Dormal I should like to know.”
I could’ve lied. Easily. But the asshole had just demanded food. From me! I didn’t even make myself snacks. And I enjoyed my company. “No, he’s not dating anyone right now,” I said. Looking straight into her eyes I added, “Go for it.”
Rhona nodded happily. “If you’ll excuse me, then, I believe I have some freshening up to do.” She turned to Viv and Iona. And clapped. Like they were her little slaves. “Girls? Time to get ready for the opening ceremonies.”
Oh, I hope she’s Bea. Did I bring explosive ammo? That would be sweet—take the whole back of her head off. No, even better— Lesley Haigh’s sweet, round face beamed up into mine as she shook my hand. “So nice to meet you. I believe we’re going up too, but we’ll see you at the castle?”
Humphrey cleared his throat. “Actually, if you still have room in your van, we wouldn’t mind taking the girls’ place.” He nodded to Viv and Iona, his raised eyebrows reminding me that they’d recently refused Cole’s offer of a ride. “Seems silly for us all to drive since we’re going to the same place.”
And it’ll save you a couple of pounds worth of petrol, won’t it, Humphrey? I knew I was right when Lesley’s smile turned mannequin and her sharp little elbow dug into her hubby’s side.
“We would be glad to have you,” Vayl said warmly. He meant it. If Lesley was Bea, better to keep her close. In which case she wouldn’t be happy with the traveling arrangements either. She tried hard to hide her irritation, but it seeped out in the way she dug her heels into the stairs as they went up to their room, and the dirty looks she thought no one saw her give her hubby. Of course, she might just be pissed at him for being a major-league cheapskate. Still too soon to tell.
Cole wandered over, wearing the look of a man who’s just discovered his pay-per-view porn channels are showing freebies for the weekend. “You make friends fast,” I said as he joined us.
“Yeah,” he breathed. “They’re rooming together, you know.”
“No.” I gave him a second to explain why that was a big deal. “And?”
“Who knows what they with each other do up there?”
“Oh, for—”
His eyes began to shine. “It could happen! It probably does happen!” He sighed. “If only it would happen with me there to watch.”
“You’re a perv.”
“You’re jealous.” He began nodding before I could even deny it, his hair bouncing against his head like a kid on a trampoline. I looked into those bright blue eyes and tried not to echo his dawning grin.
“Nuh-uh.”
“Are too. And just wait. Before I’m done with you, you’re going to be on the floor, writhing with envy, begging me to fantasize about you and some other random girl.” He thought a second. “Or maybe you and Viv and Iona. And you know what I’m gonna do then?”
“What?”
“Make you a happy woman!”
“Del—,” Vayl began, the growl in his tone a clear territorial warning.
“Fine,” Cole told him. “You can be in the fantasy too. But fully dressed. Blindfolded. And playing the accordion while a monkey sits on your head like a little monkey hat.”
I rubbed my temples and said, “What were you and the girls talking about?”
“What presentations they’re going to sit in on at GhostCon.”
“Oh.”
“Why do you sound so disappointed?”
“I just figured you’d be trying to dig into their backgrounds.” I gave him a significant look. “You know, because it’s always nice to get to know the people you’re staying with.”
“We’ll have the chance in a few minutes. They’ve invited us up to their room. They said they wanted to ask us something privately.”
“Us?”
He nodded. “Hey, maybe if we go in without knocking we’ll catch them kissing!”
“Would you stop?”
He put both hands on his hips and stuck out his bottom lip. In his best imitation of a whiny teenage girl he said, “How dare you crush my dreams!”
I glanced up at Vayl, who shrugged. “It is a common male fantasy. You are aware of that, yes?”
“Do you have it?”
He stuck his hands in his pockets. “Not anymore.” The expression on his face said he didn’t need to. Because he’d fulfilled it.
As Cole said, “Whew, Jeremy!” and gave my boss a standing O, I experienced a flash of hatred for all the women who’d ever given Vayl pleasure. And in nearly three hundred years how many could that have been? Especially if they’d doubled up. And how could I ever stack up against that long line of lovelies? The bitches! Suddenly the yarn in the sewing basket began to smoke.
“Shit!” I took a deep breath to calm myself as Cole grabbed the basket and ran it outside to the van, where we’d stowed a fire extinguisher for just such incidents.
Those kinds of solutions were necessary because ever since I’d donated blood to a dying werewolf named Trayton, things tended to catch fire when I got überpissed. I’d been advised to avoid this at all costs, since the burning also took place inside me. And it takes a long time to grow back bits of your soul. I took a deep breath.
Maybe it’ll be spectacular when Vayl and I finally get together, I told myself. Okay, so I’m sadly out of practice and I’ve only ever been with one other guy. I might still perform so amazingly it’ll put Vayl in a semi coma. If he’s already been shot in the head first. Goddammit!
Before I realized what was happening, Vayl had wrapped his arms around me. “Our first moment alone since I returned from Romania,” he whispered. “And you are angry. How do we fix that?”
“We could always kill somebody,” I suggested. “Are any of your old girlfriends still alive?”
“How about this?” He pulled me closer, until my face pressed against the soft gray turtleneck he wore under his coat. I could hear the slow thump of his heart, the creak of leather as his arms tightened around my waist. His thighs, warm and firm against mine, his breath in my hair as he kissed the top of my head, the brush of his fingertips against my back. One more moment, to inhale the scent of pine that assured me he still held to the philosophy that had led him, and others like him, to blend with society rather than exist apart from it. I pulled back.
“I like hugs,” I said.
“You sound surprised.”
“I just can’t believe I’d forgotten how great they feel.” I clenched my fists. “How great you make me feel.” Why is stuff like that always so hard to say? There must be some way to—I know! Bergman owes me an invention. I’m going to make him build me a Jaz doll with all those phrases preprogrammed into her. So all I have to do is wait for the appropriate moment, break out plastic me, and pull the string. Genius!
Vayl searched my face, his smile growing as time passed. “Do you know what I just realized?”
“No.”
“This is going to be quite enjoyable.”
“This what?” But Vayl didn’t have time to answer. Cole had blown back inside, his hair standing on end from his firefighting ex
perience.
Vayl released me before our third could figure out what we’d done during his brave act. A pretty good call, I thought, especially when Cole shoved his fingers through his locks and said proudly, “It burst into flame just as I opened the door to the van. You should’ve seen the smoke! I killed the fire and hid the evidence. But I think we’re going to have to bury it somewhere before we leave.” He sent me a shame-on-you look. “I believe you killed a half-knitted scarf and a pair of baby booties.”
Jack’s nose in my hand reminded me that I shouldn’t even be fantasizing about slapping that smart-ass grin off Cole’s face without locating the nearest fire department first. I crouched and gave the dog a good rubdown. “You know why you’re here, you panting, pooping mink coat, you? So we can practice biting bad guys in the nuts, right? Because that’s your new trick, isn’t it?” I smiled at Cole from between Jack’s ears, which perked with interest as I asked, “Who do you think we should practice on next?” When Jack looked over his shoulder at Cole and ran his massive pink tongue across his lips and nose, Cole’s face dropped so suddenly it looked like a fast-motion clip of a guy aging twelve years in three seconds.
“Watch out there, Lucille, you may lay an egg you’re cackling so hard,” he said as I laughed into Jack’s neck. He grabbed his suitcase and strolled past me. “I’m going to the girls’ room. If you’re not too jealous, why don’t you join me?”
“Gladly,” I said as I strode to where Vayl had left my trunk. “By the way, did you happen to pack a cup in your luggage? Jack could really use some dry runs.”
As Cole walked ahead of me I noticed his stride tighten. His knees didn’t quite meet in the middle, but if he could’ve managed it, I think he would’ve. “Didn’t your brother ever tell you not to joke about stuff like that?” he asked over his shoulder.
“Are you kidding? He’s worse than I am! One time—”
One More Bite Page 4
