Dead But Not Forgotten

by Charlaine Harris

  “Did you have to invite them inside?”

  He frowned. “I don’t know if they came in at all . . . I’m sorry, I think they just stayed in the courtyard.”

  “Crap. Well, you’ve got a conundrum, here. The Mission is partially public, but it’s also your home. So I’m not sure if the whole invite-only thing works for this place or not. Clearly the chapel and the courtyard are fair game, but hopefully they can’t get into the main living area.”

  “Is house of God,” Sister Maggie said, clutching the large crucifix at her neck. I shrugged.

  “Doesn’t matter, unless they’re baby vamps. If they could come into the chapel, they can come in here. I’ve parked my pickup across the chapel doors. They’ll have to move it before they can come in . . .”

  Suddenly, from outside, we heard a huge crash, as if someone had flipped over, say, a junky, if reliable, Chevy truck. I grimaced and picked up Lolita, after passing the shotgun to Father Bryan.

  “Your truck,” said Sister Maggie, white faced.

  “Fucking vampires,” I swore, channeling Father Bryan. “Father, let me do the talking. Sister Kate, come with us. Sister Maggie, you stay with Ricky. I imagine it’s him they want. Spray anyone you don’t recognize, you hear me?” Sister Maggie nodded, clutching the aerosol can.

  “No,” said Ricky groggily. He struggled to sit upright, reopening the wound in his side. Setting down my crossbow, I rushed to push Ricky back down.

  “Ricky, you gotta stay here. You’re beat to shit.”

  “No,” he said. “Mi hermana . . .”

  “I know, honey. And I’m’a do my best to get her back, okay? But you can’t help. I know you want to . . .”

  Ricky tried to sit up again and got pretty far with his supe strength, despite my pushing on both his shoulders. “Desiree, I help you, please.”

  I managed to shove hard enough to get him back on the table. “Ricky, you can’t walk.” I pointed down at his mangled foot. “Let us handle this. But you can protect Sister Maggie.” I passed him the silver mace from my belt.

  He glared at me. Sister Maggie took over for me, holding him down.

  “Come out!” yelled a male voice from the courtyard. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

  “I gotta go. We’ll be fine and I’ll get Lupe back.” For a split second I let my hand rest against his cheek, forgetting he was a supe, remembering only the sweet boy who took the trash out for me every night.

  And who had such killer cheekbones.

  With a sigh I pulled myself away. I picked up Lolita, motioning for Father Bryan and Sister Kate to follow. Together, we left the kitchen, closing the door behind us to walk toward the big main doors of the Mission’s house. There, I pulled open the right-hand door’s speakeasy-style grille and peered out cautiously. About fifty feet away, two vampires held a battered Lupe between them. Her clothes were dirty but intact, her hair falling over her eyes where she hung limply in her captors’ arms.

  “Howdy!”

  I jumped back, looking away to keep from getting glamoured as a large gray eye popped up in the grille. The eye backed away, revealing a scruffy, pale face. I kept my gaze trained carefully on its chin.

  “Don’t look in his eyes,” I warned my friends. “Anywhere you can shoot is fair game, but avoid the eyes.”

  “We found one of your shifters,” the vampire said, indicating Lupe. “Which is perfect, as you seem to have some property that belongs to the man who hired us.”

  I looked over at Father Bryan, who shook his head in confusion.

  “Lupe, you all right?” I called. The girl didn’t move.

  “She’s kinda out of it,” the vamp said. “We had to tranq her. Y’all understand—couldn’t have her going all hairy on us.”

  “If you’ve touched her inappropriately, I will cut off your man parts and feed them to you,” I said.

  He laughed. “She’s fine. We kept your property in fine fiddle, just like we know y’all did our boss’s. To make our exchange real tidy-like.”

  “He must be talking about the group Ricky brought in last,” Father Bryan whispered before I could tell him to shut up. Suddenly, the vampire’s obscenely pink mouth was framed in the door’s grille.

  “Exactly. They don’t belong to y’all. Or to us, actually. We’re just doing a job, see, so nobody needs to get hurt.” The vamp moved back from the door again.

  I was pretty sure that, like most vamps, they weren’t armed. And they obviously couldn’t come into this part of the Mission without invitation, or they wouldn’t be out here chattin’. They’d have ripped our throats out and called it a day.

  Now that I could see the other players and had some inkling as to the cards they held, I made my decision.

  Ready to turn and get this game started, I heard a noise from the kitchen that gave me pause.

  “Fuck,” I said. Assuming we’d been wrong and that the vamps had gotten into the house, I nearly shot Ricky when he hopped on one foot through the kitchen door into the foyer, Sister Maggie clinging to his waist and pleading with him to stop.

  He wore only an apron and carried a jacket.

  “Hace frio,” he said, holding it out to me, his face set stubborn as an old mule’s. Or a Cajun’s. I knew I’d lost this battle.

  “Thanks, Ricky,” I said, moving to take the jacket from him. But instead of giving it to me, he held it open, helping me into it. He turned me around, zipping it with trembling fingers.

  “Is my sister,” he said, his pale face stricken. Before I could assure him I wouldn’t let Lupe come to any harm, he cupped my jaw with one of those big hands I’d been dreaming about earlier.

  “Is you,” he said, his voice rough.

  Hot tears pricked my vision. No one had cared if I got hurt for quite a while, and certainly no man.

  “You sit here,” I said, pushing him back to the low bench that sat next to the kitchen wall. “Keep your mace.” I took it out of the apron pocket where he’d tucked it, wrapping his fingers around it. Looking deep into his pain-filled eyes, I told him the truth. “We need to talk when this is over, but we will. ’Cause it will be over and we’ll both be fine. So will Lupe. You need to trust me, though. Okay?”

  After a second, Ricky leaned his forehead against mine. Warm breath puffed against my lips as he spoke. “Sí, Desiree Dumas. Okay.”

  I nearly kissed him right then and there, but Daddy always said there was a time and place. He’d been talking about displaying taxidermy, but it was still good general advice.

  “Good. Now, everyone back up and get ready,” I said, straightening abruptly and moving to the big doors. My fingers felt clumsy as I unlocked them, swinging them open and backing up, all the while keeping a firm grip on my crossbow.

  “There you are! I was getting worried y’all had forgotten about us!” the vamp shouted. In full view, he looked even shabbier. Ripped-up fatigues and an army-green shirt strained over his chubby belly and thighs, and his compadres weren’t much better. They also looked rough, in old denim and faded tees.

  “You’re not Border Patrol,” I said, starting to get a handle on the situation.

  “Hell no, we ain’t,” said the leader, whom I deemed Fatty. “Like I said, we’re just here to do a job. Your shifters have been giving my boss a hell of a time—taking his merch, messing up his deals. He’s tired of it. But I’m a patient guy.” He spit a pink gob into the sand at his feet. “And I get that we all gotta make a living. So I tell you what, you give us the group we’re missing and we’ll give you the girl. If”—he paused, picking at one long fang with a dirty fingernail—“y’all promise to stop interfering.”

  “We can’t give them anyone,” Father Bryan said, before I could stop him. Of course the vamps heard.

  “Now, that would be unfortunate,” said the fat vamp. “Because I’d hate to have Chip back there hurt y
our friend. Shifter blood is strong, though, so he’d not require too much encouragement.” Fatty laughed and Chip grinned, pulling Lupe’s head back by her hair to trail a finger down the girl’s throat.

  My eyes narrowed. “Unbunch your panties and don’t touch her, ya hear? Now, you’re telling me that all y’all want is your merch back, and a promise that we’ll back off, and y’all will give us Lupe and leave both Lupe and Ricky alone?”

  “Sure,” Fatty said magnanimously. “It’s a win/win situation I’m offering, girl.”

  “And how can I believe you?”

  Fatty threw back his head and laughed. “You can’t! But like I said—this is just a job. I ain’t gonna risk my neck for a job.”

  Funny, that’s the realization I’d had all that time ago at the Bat’s Wing. And “risking my neck” had been just as literal then as it was now.

  Father Bryan fidgeted beside me and I glanced at him. “Calm down, Father. And don’t you dare go out there.”

  “But we can’t give those people to them,” he said. “They need to understand that. They need to listen. We’re not . . .”

  Chip’s fingernails dug into Lupe’s neck and she came around enough to let out a low whine. My grip on Lolita tightened and Father Bryan gasped. Then he handed the shotgun to Sister Kate and moved forward before I could stop him.

  “Now, son,” said the priest, stepping out of the Mission and into the moonlit courtyard.

  “No,” I howled, but it was too late. Fatty had Father Bryan by the throat, grinning at him with those horrible fangs gleaming.

  “It seems you’re not taking negotiations seriously,” said Fatty. “But, despite my appearance, I am a serious person. Maybe you need a reminder of that?”

  Father Bryan’s shrill scream of pain was cut short by the fangs in his throat. Blood gushed red down his neck, soaking the white of his priest’s collar. His eyes rolled in their sockets, wild with fear, finally settling on me, begging.

  I heard my daddy’s voice again that night, telling me just what I had to do. Raising the crossbow on my forearm, I sighted and fired.

  Chip, having stepped away from Lupe just a fraction in anticipation of Fatty’s strike, crumbled into dust. Before I could get another bolt loaded, the other vamp was holding Lupe, using her as a shield but otherwise unsure of what to do as I trained the reloaded crossbow on Fatty. He hissed at me over Father Bryan’s bloody neck.

  “You’re going to stop drinking and put that priest down, you hear me?” I said. “Then you’re going to heal his wounds, take your remaining minion, and get the fuck off my lawn.”

  Lawn was hardly an appropriate term for the patch of desert that was the Mission’s courtyard, but it worked. Fatty raised his mouth from Father Bryan’s neck, keeping the priest in front of him to fuck up my aim.

  “And why would we do that?” Fatty asked. “Especially now that you’ve killed Chip. I think that means we should commence raping the shit out of you, until we decide to kill you.”

  I shook my head. “That’s no way for a gentleman to behave, first of all. But you’re not going to rape or kill me. Wanna hear why?”

  Fatty cocked his head, as if indulging a slow child.

  “Because if you make a move toward us, Lolita here’ll kill at least one of you. Either you or your little cockroach over there. And Sister Kate here might not have wood in her gun, but she has silver, and anybody can hit the broad side of a barn with a shotgun. Since you’re about as big as a barn, that much silver is gonna hurt mighty bad. Who knows, it might even kill you.

  “So one of you is gonna die tonight, maybe both of you. And I believe you when you said y’all were just hired guns. Are you really gonna die for a job?”

  “It’s about more than money now, honey,” said Fatty, licking obscenely at Father Bryan’s dripping neck. “It’s about reputation, and honor. A man has to able to look himself in the mirror when he shaves, you know?”

  “Vampires don’t shave,” I clarified primly. “And even if you’re not scared of me, I’m thinking that the Bureau of Vampire Affairs won’t be happy y’all are hiring yourselves out to human traffickers when they’re trying to make themselves look good for the upcoming elections.”

  Fatty laughed. “And who the fuck are you that the Bureau will know about our little operation?”

  My daddy always taught me that if you played the ace in your sleeve and you got caught, then you only had one other option. Flip the fucking table over and start punching.

  I flipped my fucking table over, knowing that by doing so, I’d be revealing my sordid, fangbanger past to all and sundry in attendance. But it couldn’t be helped.

  Forgive me my sins, Ricky, I thought. I knew at least Father Bryan and the nuns would have to, as forgiveness was part of their job description. But what would Ricky think of me when all this was over?

  “Oh,” I said, “I am totally nobody . . . except for one thing. I’m the favorite pet of Nicholas Le Grange, le Comte du Rhône. Nicholas is someone, I’m afraid. And he’s real close to Stan Davis. You know Stan Davis?”

  Fatty’s pudgy face managed to get even whiter, a feat I appreciated. He did know Stan Davis, it seemed, and I was glad of that. Because I sure as hell didn’t know Stan Davis well enough to call on him, and neither did Nick, not really. I’d been a mere human servant at Stan’s bar, and Nick a problematic vampire nestmate with a penchant for turning underage high school quarterbacks. Also, I think the “Comte du Rhône” thing was something I read on a wine bottle.

  But Fatty didn’t have to know that.

  “So, just to clarify, all I have to do is pull my phone out and make a call. Then this nobody will tell the BVA exactly what you fuckers are doing. I’ve heard vampire justice is swift and thorough. I’m sure y’all will enjoy it immensely.”

  Fatty glared at me. I never lowered my crossbow.

  “Phone’s in my back pocket, Sister Kate,” I lied. It was in my truck, or what was left of it.

  The nun’s hand snaked toward my hip, keeping her eyes carefully on the ground to avoid Fatty’s.

  “Stop! Fine,” he shouted. “This ain’t fucking worth it.” With a savage movement, he bit into his own wrist, rubbing it roughly over Father Bryan’s throat. Then he dropped the priest, signaling the other vampire to do the same to Lupe. The girl fell to her knees, catching herself as her shifter blood finally began to metabolize the tranquilizer.

  “Watch your back, girlie,” said Fatty to me. “Because one night . . .”

  “One night, if I disappear, y’all will find your name and description delivered directly to the bureau and to the human media, along with a thorough recounting of tonight’s events. So I suggest y’all forget about me, forget about this Mission, and find a new line of work. Maybe in a new state, in case I decide to send those descriptions anyway, just to be on the safe side.”

  Fatty swore, spitting again. Then the two bloodsuckers were gone, ducking out with vampire speed.

  I pulled Sister Kate back before she could run to Father Bryan.

  “Go get us stools from the kitchen,” I said to the nun. “He’ll be fine. And we’re going to sit here till sunrise, or until either Lupe or the good Father can drag the other’s ass inside. In the meantime, we shoot anything that gets close to ’em, you hear me?”

  Sister Kate nodded, wide-eyed. She’d obviously been surprised to hit the violent layer of my onion.

  A lot of people were.

  After Sister got me a chair, I risked a glimpse back at Ricky. He was slumped against the wall, asleep, his face ashen but peaceful.

  Turning to guard my friends, I pulled his jacket close around me. I could smell him in the collar—soap and cologne and man—and it sure was cozy.

  It was true that I didn’t need it, I realized, keeping my crossbow trained into the darkness as Lupe and Father Bryan finally pulled themselves, together,
over the Mission house’s threshold.

  But it was nice to have something keeping me warm on a cold desert night.

  Creeping through darkened corridors, I bit back a squeal when a heavy hand fell on my shoulder.

  “Taking advantage of a wounded man,” said Father Bryan. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

  “Don’t sneak up on me like that!” I hissed.

  “You owe me a confession or two, it seems. As does Ricky.”

  I blushed hotly, grateful the priest couldn’t see me in the dark. “We’re adults,” I began, but he cut me off.

  “And if you choose to spend the night playing Scrabble, it’s none of my business. But maybe you can move your game-playing to your apartment when Ricky recovers fully.”

  “Got it,” I said, wondering how a priest still had the power to make even a lapsed Catholic die of shame.

  “I heard your truck’s fixed,” the priest said, backing up toward the window so I could see him in the moonlight. He was physically healed from the vampire attack, only a lot more silver hairs indicating his recent adventure.

  “Yep,” I said.

  “Will you be moving on?”

  I shrugged. “The truck was expensive, even with your help. I’ll need to earn some more money.”

  “So you’re just waiting on money?”

  “Yes. Although maybe Milagro ain’t so bad . . .”

  Father Bryan smiled. “I thought it might be growing on you. Well, I’ll leave you to the patient. Don’t overtire him . . . playing chess, or whatever.”

  “Roger that,” I said, pushing Ricky’s door open.

  I could hear his quiet breathing, deep and slow. He was asleep.

  Stripping silently in the dark, I took my now-familiar place at his side. Without fully waking, he curled protectively around me. I sighed at the heat of his skin, so delightfully warm.

  After a few very long talks, in which he told me the truth about himself, and I told him the truth about me, we’d forgiven each other. And then we’d made out like teenagers in a dark closet playing Seven Minutes in Heaven, but for, like, forever.