Blood, Sweat and Demon Tears (The Grateful Undead series Book 3)

by Susan Stec

  "Not stupid," Resi sang, and we heard the garage door shut behind her.

  Marcus took his eyes off my ass, running them quickly over Christopher, before riveting them on my mother. "Chick, I would suggest you discuss your plan with Dorius before getting yourself, and especially Christopher, in any more trouble."

  Mom opened her mouth—Christopher made her shut it. "Dorius has enough to worry about with the murders, and now Betty. I can handle Chick. I won't let her do anything stupid."

  "I'm not your snake—I don't need no handling," Mom grumbled.

  The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and I grabbed Christopher's arm, giving it a good shake. "Do not, and I mean, DO NOT, make this a payback for Betty, or I will so much be in your shit!"

  He jerked his arm free. "Lighten up. Your mother's right. We can't do shit until we get JoAnn back, and if Chick has an idea on how we can accomplish that, Dorius will be pleased, not pissed. I said I could handle it." He turned to my mother. "Let's go up to your room and you can tell me your idea."

  Mom smiled. "We're not going upstairs. You need to pack. We're going on a road trip. And we'll need the extra laptop. I'll explain everything in the car on the way."

  "What trip?" I yelled. "You two are absolutely not going anywhere alone!"

  "This is just what I need." Christopher glared at me. "I'm going down to talk to Betty, then pack; and I'm outta here before Dorius' goons come to take her to the compound. You two don't need us anyway."

  Christopher pulled the extra laptop out of the hutch by the fireplace and followed my mother out of the room.

  I turned to Marcus. "Shouldn't we follow them?"

  "If I give you advice, will you listen?"

  "Probably not."

  "For what it's worth, no matter what your mother has in mind, it will give Christopher something to do while they remove Betty. Anyway, how much trouble can they get into in just one…?"

  "Shit! My mother is packing clothes—that's more than a day trip. I don't like it." My eyes wandered to the little pink phone sitting on the picnic table as I mentally searched for a way to stop them. Maybe I should call JoAnn and have her talk to Mom, but that would only delay them from leaving for a few minutes—Mom won't listen to her, either. "Goddamnit, I hate letting her go off somewhere, not knowing what brainy idea she's come up with."

  "Maybe she's just trying to occupy Christopher—Dorius may have suggested it."

  I wanted to slap someone—hell—anyone! He'd do, but his idea was a valid one. Mom and Dorius knew Christopher wouldn't let Betty go without a fight, but I wanted to at least make sure Christopher took his cell phone. I switched gears. "JoAnn won't be calling for another hour or so. I have a few minutes to talk to Christopher."

  "No, let them go. We can go upstairs. I can think of several ways to take your mind off your mother."

  I licked my lips. My body went all girly-stupid. I mentally tried to whip it into shape with a rebuttal that we, my traitor body and my sensible mind, really needed to have a nice long talk with Christopher. I wanted to lay a big list of don'ts on him, and make sure I could get hold of him.

  Marcus spread his lips in a sensuous smile, popping out two cute dimples. His eyes sparkled, beckoning. And when I still didn't give in, he clenched his teeth, making his chiseled jaw jump out at me. My nether parts zinged, and I fought for control. But when his chest began to rumble, I lost the argument. At least I had enough sense to reach for the pink phone, in case JoAnn called.

  Marcus grabbed my hand. "Let's leave that right where it is. I want no interruptions this time, darling." He dragged me toward the stairs. My damn body let him; that is, until we got to the kitchen. I pulled free, wrestling with my thoughts: sex—obligations. Good sex—my mother and Christopher. Logic won out, even though my body objected.

  I stood on my toes, planted a kiss on his chin, and detoured toward Resi's bedroom and Christopher. "Just give me ten minutes. Don't start without me."

  I listened to Marcus’ grumbling all the way up to our bedroom.

  * * * *

  An hour later, merging onto I-75 off East Dixie, toward Ocala, Christopher unbuckled the childproof strap on his car seat and turned to Chick from the passenger side of the Suburban. "So where are we headed? I only brought enough blood for a few days."

  "New Orleans, and get back in that kiddy chair—bad enough I let you put it up front." Christopher calmly pressed the electric window opener, wiggled out of the seat, unhooked it; then shoved it out the window. He sat back, closed the window, and buckled the seatbelt of the passenger seat around his chest. "Screw the chair. The damn widows are tinted—no one's gonna see me."

  Chick watched the car seat bounce out of sight in the rearview mirror. She locked eyes with Christopher, sucked on her teeth for a second; then met him halfway. "Fine. We get a ticket—you pay it." She turned her eyes back to the road and continued. "I met a telepath on line, and since she had an episode with a maenad a while back, she may know how to summon a demon that has more power than Raphael's boss. She also knows someone that sells blood, so don't worry—you're good."

  "A maenad? Those bitches are wicked. They do consort with demons… but… hell… how do you know she isn't bullshitting you? What if she's just pulling your leg? I haven't heard of one being around–"

  "Yeah, well, that ain't sayin' much, now is it?"

  "I'm older than you, Chick. I was friggin' born before the prohibition of booze in the twenties, and there's been no maenad activity in my lifetime." Christopher turned to the window with a disgusted look. "The casinos in Jersey went ape shit when they outlawed booze. Hell, you weren't even born when I got turned."

  "Big deal! My mother delivered me in her own bed in 1926, and my uncle made hooch in the bathtub when I was five. I've seen enough," Chick said. "And the telepath's not pulling my leg. I've talked to her vampire boyfriend. He emailed me."

  "Yeah? Well, I was twenty-two when you popped out, so screw you!" Christopher tilted his head toward Chick. "Hey, does Dorius know about this vamp sleeping with a human? 'Cause if they can do it…"

  "Didn't ask."

  Somewhere…

  "What the hell is that?" Christopher asked, his eyes on the center console.

  "Open the glove compartment and hand me that asbestos-lined glove, will ya?"

  ...birds fly…

  "Shit! Tell me you didn't swipe the pink phone!" Christopher passed her the glove, and slapped the compartment closed. "Susan is going to kick your ass, and I want no part of that shit."

  "Susan has to catch us first, and she doesn't even know where we're going." Chick pulled the glove on, and reached into the center console, pulling the pink phone out. She flipped it open with her asbestos-lined thumb, and put on a big smile. "How's my little girl and her demon kid?"

  "Mom? Is that you? I don't mean to be rude, but can you go get Susan, and make it fast? I really need to talk to her." JoAnn stood in front of a shelf stacked with brightly colored fabric, folded in nice neat squares, a tense look on her face as her eyes darted from side-to-side.

  "Screw Susan," Chick said, "I'm in charge and you'll be talking to me from now on. I have a plan to get you back. See, I know this–"

  "You are in sooo much shit." Christopher shook his head. "Did you at least leave a note?"

  "But… but Marcus and Susan are waiting for my call," JoAnn whined. "I have to tell them that Raphael insisted I join them today. I'm at the stupid store—we're buying the black fabric for Lilith's dress—and then we're headed to some demon priest to get it blessed. Raphael wouldn't leave me home alone!"

  "Just play his game, because, like I said, I have this plan," Chick told the cell. "I'm on my way to a telepath's house. She knows someone that might know someone who can help. I should have you home before…"

  "You just go get my sister and put her on this stupid phone right now!" JoAnn said. "I don't have time to argue with you, Raphael will be back any minute. He took my three-year-old daughter into the back room with the
saleswoman—alone—to look at a dress pattern for me for the ball they're having after the coronation. God, she's so ugly—big wart on her nose, black teeth—Lilith must be scared to death. But, thank God I don't have to make my dress, too. The ugly saleswoman is a seamstress—she's measured every part of my body; it was gross! But I was thinking I might ask her to make Li…"

  "Look, you idiot," Chick snapped at the phone, "if I didn't see you drop out of my uterus, I'd think I got the wrong kid. Christ, just work with me here. I'm on the road—Susan's not here—I ain't goin' back—so just deal with it! I'll be calling you as soon as we get there. If you want to talk to your sister, tell your demon sex-toy to whip up another phone for her."

  Chick theatrically flipped the cell shut, and dramatically tossed it in the center console. She pulled the glove off and wedged it between the seat and the console.

  "Oh, I'm glad I'm not you right now. I may look young, but I'm sure as hell old enough to know Susan is gonna fry your immortal ass. I can't believe you copped the phone!"

  "How the hell was I supposed to get in touch with JoAnn if my friend's demon is ready to pay her a visit? I'm sure I'll need to give it some directions to JoAnn's little den of iniquity."

  "I hear ya. I'm just sayin—sorry for your loss—'cause you're dead meat walkin'."

  ~~~~

  Chapter Nine

  ~~~~

  I shut the bedroom door and when I turned around; Marcus already had his shirt off, and was working on his belt buckle.

  "I think I should have brought the cell up," I stalled. "What if JoAnn calls?"

  "Resi will answer it." His pants dropped to the floor, the muscles in his thigh rippling as he kicked them aside. "Do you know the best thing about making love with a vampire?"

  "Um, the blood exchanges?" I squeaked. My eyes wandered over his taut, hard chest. He shot me a grin, and ran fingers under the waist of his black silk undies. "No, darling, and if you don't bring yourself over here, I will be more than happy to demonstrate what…"

  "You know Resi will get burned if she tries to touch that cell." I put on a coy smile and leaned against the door. Goddamnit, I just loved pushing his buttons. "Maybe I should go get it."

  He slid out of his black silk briefs and sat on the edge of the bed, blatantly displaying his desire for me. "Did you lock the door?"

  I opened my eyes wide and tilted my head. "Should I? I mean what if Resi…"

  Marcus dropped his fangs—his eyes dilated to solid black. "You are trying my patience. Come here this instant or I won't be as gentle as I have been in the past."

  Oh, hell yes! This was going to be fun. I reached behind me, turned the lock, and took my time making my way over to the bed. "Can we talk for a few minutes? I always thought…"

  He immediately wrapped his hands around my hips and jerked me to his chest. I pulled free and bolted for the other side of the room. He was in my face before I got there.

  Running the tips of my fingers over the hair in the middle of his chest, I leapt to my right, my back against the door, my hand on the knob. "We do have a responsibility to…"

  In a blink, I was beside the bed, his lips moving over my neck. "JoAnn's call left me unsatisfied this morning. And if you push me much further…" His fangs painfully raked over my throat, leaving a trail of blood that dripped slowly down the center of my chest.

  My body tingled. A moan escaped from deep in my throat. "I'm just saying," I panted, "maybe this is not the time for…"

  "It will only take a minute," he mumbled, running his tongue up the sweet trail of blood between my breasts. I tensed up, ready to bolt again—he pushed my shirt over my shoulders, confining my arms to my sides, as he threw me onto the bed.

  "But… I really should call Christopher and make sure… oh my God, that feels good," I said with an intake of breath. He nibbled on a nipple, flicking it into a hard nub with his tongue.

  Just when my left breast began to really sing his praise, he removed his teeth and pulled my shorts over my hips, trailing heat down my stomach as his tongue and teeth worked their way toward the place begging for attention. He mouthed my panties aside, and I melted into the bed as soft flesh tantalized moist flesh—for all of about three seconds. He lifted his head and smiled at me.

  My goddamned hips almost followed his face. "Okay, so who the hell is teasing now?" I grumbled, trying to hang onto the elasticized rope of intense delight that was about to whip back like a slingshot and slap me in the face.

  His laughter ricocheted in my head as he slid my panties past my feet with one hand, while the other moved painstakingly slowly up the inside of my leg. I wiggled out of my shirt, moaning and pulsing with desire as well as an uncontrollable urge to bitch-slap him into submission. My nostrils flared—my fangs dropped—damn it, the heady sent of the blood rushing through his veins was blissfully intoxicating.

  As his lips moved up the inside of my leg, all I could think about was sinking my fangs into his neck. Well, maybe that wasn't all I was thinking about, but if I had the choice between fucking or sucking—it'd be sucking right now.

  Then he bit the inside of my left thigh. My body vibrated—I felt the blood coursing from my veins into his mouth—igniting a fire that needed to be quenched. Strong hands ran up my legs, over my hips and he yanked them while biting harder. My mind exploded with blood lust.

  A guttural sound escaped my lips. Anger and passion fought for dominance. And by God, I didn't see why they couldn't share. I gripped his shoulders, pushing hard, and we sailed across the room.

  Hammering him against the sliding glass doors, I sunk my fangs into his chest and reached down, guiding him to join me as my mouth filled with blood. He whipped me around, plucking my fangs from his chest, and suddenly my face was pressed against the glass.

  His chest heaving against my back, he entered me from behind at the same time his fangs penetrated my skin. I gasped, blood dripping a trail from my mouth down the glass door. Fire coursed through me as he drank deeply from my neck.

  Panting, my body responding to the rhythm of his thrusts, I watched his splayed hand move far too damn slowly, up the glass, smearing the trail of blood back toward my lips. Then his wrist was in front of my mouth—I bit down hard—and he moaned with pleasure as I began to drink. My body pulled him in further, pushed against him harder; his blood, mingling in my veins, pulsed in my ears, as he dragged me rapidly toward our shared, decadent pleasure.

  * * * *

  "I'm not drinking another truck stop waitress," Chick grumbled as she hopped back in the driver's seat of the Suburban. "That one tasted like cigarettes and Aqua Net."

  "Hey, you're the one that wanted to go on a road trip. Truck stops and gas stations—deal with it." Christopher slapped a blood bag to his fangs and settled back as Chick cranked up the engine.

  "I'm just sayin', I'll be fangin' one of the drivers next time." She spat out the window, putting the SUV in drive, and hammered the gas pedal. She spun around three semi-trucks as they chugged along toward the entry ramp to I-10, heading west, toward Tallahassee.

  Christopher ripped the empty bag off his teeth and tossed it into a Walmart bag hanging from the console. "Yeah, well, being a Seraph, at least you're allowed to drink from a human—you get some variety. I, on the other hand, have to suck down blood bags. Ugh, O positive, I hate O positive." He ran the back of his hand over his lips. "It's like drinking domestic beer. Ya think they could send out some A, or even O negative once in a while."

  "I'd give my eyeteeth to be able to drink that domestic stuff right now." Chick grimaced, squishy noises coming from her mouth. "So, you were sixteen when they made booze illegal? I thought you were in Italy with Dorius, so how'd you know what was going on in Jersey?"

  Christopher kicked off his Spidey tennis shoes as he leaned back in the seat, crossing his feet under his legs. "Dorius had to come to the states to take care of some rogue action in Jersey at one of the big hotels. I may have still looked like I was six, but was sixteen—he took me wi
th him."

  "Huh—bet that was something. It was a hot time in the states then—or so I heard. The women were rebelling—crime was high." She shot Christopher a side-glance. "My father was Mafia—he married fifteen women over seven years, just to bring them to the states for prostitution. He and my Aunt Millie also booked the numbers in Connecticut. I remember a lot of it, because he was involved right up into the forties."

  "Yeah, the numbers racket was big—hit men—prostitution—lots of murder going down. The rogues took advantage, upping the body count. It was a hot time for the council, too."

  Chick pulled a MapQuest printout from the visor over her head, unfolded it, and laid it on the steering wheel. "Four-hundred and seventy-nine miles to US-90; how many hours is that?"

  Christopher scrunched his eyes in concentration. "At sixty miles an hour, that'd be about eight and a half hours, but add in stops, and you got maybe, ten hours."

  "I'm gonna need to suck down more blood before we get there," she said, her tongue rolling around in her cheek as her nose wrinkled up. "You got any gum? I need to get the taste of that woman out of my mouth."

  "No, but you can suck on my arm if you want. A mouthful ought to do it."

  Chick pulled her eyes off the road and fastened them on Christopher. "In your dreams, buddy. I ain't sucking on nothing of yours. You don't look older than me—don't seem right."

  "Maybe not, but inside, I'm old enough to be your father. So suck that one up and move on, bitch." He shoved his arm in Chick's direction. She slapped it away, running her tongue under her lips with a scowl.

  "Fine," Christopher said, turning his eyes to the road. "Betty didn't have a problem…"

  "Don't say it! Don't even go there." Chick shuddered, wrinkling her nose, her eyes instantly locking onto the road. "Christ, let's just drop it."

  Christopher's head slowly pivoted in her direction. "I wish just one of you would think about what it means to be over a hundred years old mentally, and physically look like you're still six. I have needs just like all of you do. And fuck me—none of you get it."