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

by Susan Stec

  I put on a smile and turned to Raphael. "We need another phone. My mother was dispatched on a mission, and she stole mine so she could continue to talk to JoAnn."

  Raphael's eyes blinked twice, and finally settled, half-closed. "How did she accomplish…?"

  "Asbestos glove," I said.

  "Ahh, very inventive," Raphael praised, petting Lily's black curls. "Just as well. JoAnn chastised me for days after adding that feature. I found it amusing. Vampires—fire—feel the burn." He barked a laugh.

  Jake squealed and burped loudly.

  Raphael turned to the shape-shifter with an amused look. "Fire should not alarm you, dragon. I would think it would amuse you as well, since you wield it so freely."

  Jake cowered.

  Raphael was referring to Jake frying everyone's asses on our last mission, including two of our vehicles that went up in flames. He still had nightmares.

  "You are such a prick!" I yelled.

  "Dee-mon—demon and a small child in the room," Resi sang.

  Paul growled. Tootles coughed up a bark.

  Gibbie grabbed Paul's hair and leaned out, planting his feet on Paul’s shoulder. He pulled the sword strapped to his waist and swung it toward Raphael. "You better hope she keeps this shield up, demon!" Gibbie screeched.

  I wasn't worried about Gibbie, although I'd seen the creatures he could change into. And though a twenty-foot-tall Cyclops was a bit daunting, I kept my eyes on Jake. He could inflict the most damage, if he decided to start puffing fire inside the shield.

  Jake blinked rapidly, turning his head away from Raphael. I breathed a sigh of relief and flashed angry eyes at Raphael.

  Easy, darling. Get the conversation back on point, Marcus pushed.

  I took a deep breath, keeping my attention on Raphael's hand, still stroking Lily, and trying not to sound too bitchy. And we all know, I'm like, so totally capable of that. "Can you send me another phone, or what?" I snapped. "We heard about Lily's coronation, and since my sister's so damn proud, we thought we could watch through the frigging phone," I whined; then on impulse, finished with, "since we weren't invited."

  With keen eyes, Raphael said, "Oh, how delightful. Do you really wish to attend, vampire-witch?"

  Marcus pushed, Susan, before you speak...

  "Hell, yes!" I bellowed. Marcus wiggled on the couch, looking ill at ease. I ignored him. "She's my goddamned sister—what do you think?"

  Raphael cuddled Lily closer and laughed. "We would be honored to ask Lord Rahovart, tormentor of the affluent and companion of Satan, if you may all attend, wouldn't we Lily?"

  Lily tucked her head into Raphael's shoulder.

  Marcus' rumble rolled around in my head as Raphael continued. "But for now, in answer to your first question, yes, I have another phone. We expected your summons. JoAnn informed me of the incident, and asked that I prepare another for you." His eyes shifted toward Marcus and back to me, a wicked grin on his face. "I'm sorry, what was the mission that has your mother so preoccupied, again? Will she also be able to attend?"

  Lily locked eyes with me for only a second. They turned from lovely lavender to bright red, and back to lavender again in a heartbeat. She frowned, moving her head very slightly, and very quickly, so quickly that I was sure Raphael did not see it. But I sure did—I couldn't seem to find my voice.

  "She didn't say what mission," Marcus answered for me, "and it's none of your concern. We have a rogue issue. I'm sure it will keep Chick busy for a few days and she will not be able to attend Lily's coronation." He turned toward me with a smile. "In fact, none of us will be able to attend without permission from the council."

  Everyone turned toward me—my tongue was holding back my fangs.

  Paul cut the tension. "Do you have the phone?"

  Raphael turned slowly to Paul as he pulled another pink phone out of his pantaloons. "I do." His eyes locked on mine as he laid the phone on the oak floor. "And I will look forward to all of you coming to view my daughter's blessed event."

  "We can only hope," Gibbie squawked with a big smile.

  "Oh boy! We all get to go to Hell!" Resi sang.

  "Ohhh, nooo," Jake whimpered.

  Tootles, gurgling by the television until now, started running in circles, yapping at Raphael's feet.

  The demon looked down at the dog. "That reminds me, I'll be leaving the dog. JoAnn and I will be busy for the next few days. You can attend to it." He smiled at me and toed the phone. "Call it payment for the second phone."

  Swell, he takes Lily and leaves me with an animal right out of Stephen King's, Pet Sematary. I couldn't put up a rebuttal—hell, I couldn't move.

  Raphael stepped under the portal, pointed up, and demanded, "Dismiss me! I have business to attend to."

  Lily waved bye-bye, and threw an air kiss at me. The look in her eyes, and the expression on her little face, told me to do as her father asked. I shook my head as I tried to catch my own thoughts, but robotically addressed Raphael. "You may leave demon, and thank you for the extra phone. I'll be contacting JoAnn as soon as you find out if we can attend."

  I caught Lily's smile right before they shot up toward the portal, and disappeared when it closed around them.

  "What the hell just happened?" I asked, shaking all over. "I think Lily made me say that!"

  ~~~~

  Chapter Twelve

  ~~~~

  I opened my mouth to tell everyone what happened with Lily, but a loud banging whipped my head in another direction. I could hear the little brass-knocker on the front door clacking with each pound of someone's fist.

  "What the hell?" I asked, turning to Marcus.

  "Probably just Dorius' men coming for Betty," Marcus said, headed for the door, and mind pushed, I felt Lily in your head, darling, and we will discuss it upstairs, alone, after they leave.

  It scared the shit out of me, I pushed back.

  That it did, but she was helping you, not hurting you. He smiled at me, then opened the front door.

  Warren strutted into the living room. He was dressed in a pair of faded jeans, an Outfitters, short-sleeved t-shirt, and Muck Boots. His brown hair curled around the bottom of a Florida Gators cap with a camo pattern that matched his shirt, and his jaw bulged with chewing tobacco. He spat into a large, red Solo cup and glowered at Marcus through deep brown eyes. "Where's the bitch?"

  "She's cuffed to my bed, downstairs," Resi said.

  "Well, at least you got you a white woman in yer bed," Warren said with a snide grin.

  Resi disliked Warren by association. Zaire hated Warren—he hated her, and he took every opportunity to throw some shit at Zaire because she was not only gay, but sleeping with a white woman. He didn't give Resi any shit. He blamed it all on Zaire. That's probably why Dorius sent him to fetch Betty—knowing Zaire was on her way to the compound—he was trying to avoid another conflict between the two.

  "Don’t start," Resi said, "and her name is Betty—use it."

  "Yeah, whatever," Warren said, taking off his cap and running the back of his hand over his brow. "I got four more men outside in the Burb, you want I should get them?" he asked, putting his cap back on.

  "It took all of them to cuff her to the bed," Paul said. "If Chick hadn’t been home, they couldn't have accomplished it."

  Gibbie flew in circles around Warren. "She's had lots of blood, maybe she's calmed down a bit, but I'd keep her cuffed on the way to the compound, if I were you."

  "Don't tell me how to do my job, fairy," Warren said, showing a bit of fang as he turned to Resi. "You wanna walk me down there while your mother goes out to get my men?"

  I shook with rage. "Look, you redneck, son-of-a-bitch…"

  "I'll get the men, you girls take Warren down to Betty," Marcus said, giving me a warning look as he walked toward the front door.

  I sucked in a breath and waved Warren toward the stairs leading down to Resi's room.

  The minute Warren walked through the bedroom door, he smiled at Betty. "Hey little lady, y
ou ready for a ride with a real man?"

  "Fuck you, dick-wad! I want blood—yours'll do just fine. Bring yer scrawny, Wrangler clad, ass on over."

  Warren burst out laughing.

  "Betty," I warned, "I know you're freaked out, but Dorius, our boss, who's in Miami, will explain everything. This man is here to drive you there. All you…"

  "Chrissie-boy already did all the explainin', so cut me loose, I can fend fer myself," Betty said, fangs tapping her bottom lip as she spoke.

  "I'll get another bag of blood," Resi chirped, heading up to the refrigerator.

  "Uncuff 'er," Warren ordered, eyes sparkling, fangs hanging over his lower lip.

  Paul growled behind me.

  Marcus bounded down the stairs with four large vampires at his back.

  I uncuffed Betty and stood back.

  She leapt from the bed and wrapped herself around Warren's neck. He stumbled, and fell through the new folding-metal doors on the closet, and they both landed on the floor next to Resi's shoes.

  I cringed at the crumpled metal. I busted the first set of doors. Zaire tossed me across the room when I tried to cuff her to the bed after she was turned. The frigging things were vampire magnets. "Damn it. I am not going to Lowe's again! This time, I'm putting up a rod and curtain—it's cheaper."

  Warren wrapped his arms around Betty—Betty's fangs dropped and she made big, hairy animal noises. Paul jumped on top of them. I covered a smile with my hand as three more vamps jumped into the cluster-suck, all of them rolling on the carpet, fangs searching for veins.

  Betty tossed two of the vamps across the room and one slammed into the window, causing the glass to fly everywhere.

  While I glared at the window, Marcus jumped over the bed and stood in front of me. "Don't you move!"

  I tried to wiggle around him and he turned, arms splayed, and pushed me against the wall with his back. "Stay!"

  "I can't see!" I shouted, trying to peek under his arm.

  Warren yelled, "Get your goddamned fangs out of my fuckin' neck, bitch!"

  "Her name's Betty," Resi sang from the kitchen.

  Paul began to pull off his clothes, and a few minutes later, he was a snorting, big, black wolf.

  The other guy on top of Betty shot across the room—fangs dripping with blood. He hit the dresser, wood splintering as he slid to the floor, grabbing his stomach where Betty kicked him.

  "Great! Just great," I ground out. "There goes Grandma's other antique dresser!" I sucked in a frustrated breath through my nose. Zaire sent Resi sailing through the first one the same day she shot-putted me into the closet doors.

  Marcus chuckled. "If this is your holding room, I'd suggest a metal bed, barren walls, and no other furniture, darling."

  "Hell no! I'm getting an account at Rooms To Go," Resi yelled from outside the bedroom door. "Next time we fang, bitch-slap, bring out the cuffs, and toss vamps around the room, we're goin', Internet, emo-goth, BDSM Pay-Per-View."

  Paul's chest rumbled, the hair on the back of his neck bristled, and he jumped on Warren's back, his muzzle pushing between Betty's lips and Warren's neck.

  Warren grabbed Betty's hair and yanked. It didn't help. She sank her fangs in deeper.

  The wolf opened its jaws and latched onto Betty's throat.

  "Don't you hurt her!" I shouted, trying to push Marcus away.

  "Shut the hell up, woman!" Warren screeched. "Tear her fuckin' throat out, wolf!"

  Marcus pushed his hands around his back and grabbed my waist, leaning back harder. "Susan, let them handle this, they know what they're doing."

  "Oh, yeah, they got it, baby," I said, my eyes dancing around the trashed room.

  Resi ran in with three bags of blood. "Too late?"

  I tried real hard not to laugh as Warren snapped, "Somebody get her outta my throat!" Then he latched onto Betty's wrist as it flew past his lips.

  His minions came to life and two of them pulled at Betty's feet while the other two both grabbed her free arm. Betty's fangs clung to Warren's flesh like a sprung, steel bear-trap. Paul's teeth were latched on Betty's neck and I could see blood dripping from his maw. Warren was sucking hard, both hands holding Betty's arm to his face.

  Dorius's men could only manage to drag Betty and both men, a few feet to the bed, where they climbed on and yanked harder. Everyone was airborne for a few seconds, looking like a freaky group of skydivers. They all fell to the floor in a heap, attached to each other like a fleshy Lego nightmare.

  Gibbie made an entrance, sword swinging. When he saw the mess on the floor, he wavered, and I yelled, "No Cyclops! Not in the house!" Gibbie could turn into all sorts of weird things, and one was a twenty-foot Cyclops.

  "I'm not stupid," Gibbie squawked, before becoming a raven.

  "Fuck ya gonna do wit dat!" Warren yelled, fangs dripping blood as the raven landed gently on Warren's cheek, then hopped onto Betty's face and placed its beak against her eyeball.

  Betty tightened her fanged grip on Warren's throat.

  I watched in horror as the bird danced its beak across Betty's pretty blue iris, and put a little more pressure at the corner of her eye near her nose.

  Betty froze. Through clenched teeth, she said, "What's with the fuckin' birds 'round here? Goddamned hawk attacks me in your field, now this piece-a-shit…"

  "Don't you dare pop her eyeball out!" I screamed, raking my nails across Marcus' arm as I tried to get out from behind him. "Come on! Damn it, Gibbie, I know we heal, but… Marcus, would her eye go back in? and… Oh God! I'm gonna puke. I hate anything in my eye!"

  "I think the bitch'd look right fine with an eye patch." Warren sounded all nasty, evil. I shuttered.

  Betty's fangs slipped from Warren's neck with the sound of a suction cup being pulled from a glass window. Without moving anything but her lips, she said, "Gonna be fuckin' shish kabob if ya–"

  The raven's talons clasped hair, scalp, and nose. It flipped its tail feathers and a drop of gooey gray shit landed on Betty's cheek.

  "Eww, gross." I wrinkled up my nose. "But hey, it's supposed to be good luck if a bird poops on you," I tried.

  Betty's nostril's flared, but thank God, she found the sense to shut the hell up.

  Everyone slowly disengaged themselves.

  "Cuff 'er," Marcus said as he moved away from me.

  "And someone put some duct-tape across her mouth," Warren ordered.

  Betty wiped the bird droppings off her cheek and then reached out and rubbed her hand across Warren's shirt. "Just spreading the luck, shit-face—now get this bird outta my face."

  "Fuck that!" Warren said, wiping frantically at his shirt; brown drool mixed with blood running down his chin. "Take out the bitch's eye!"

  "It's Betty," Resi said; then asked, "Want some blood, sweetie?"

  ~~~~

  Chapter Thirteen

  ~~~~

  "Why are we hanging around here?" Christopher asked from the mini-bar in their room at the Quality Inn motel off I-10 somewhere near Alabama.

  "I got stuff to do," Chick said, looking up from the computer on her lap. "And put that bottle back—I can't afford booze at five bucks a shot." She leaned back on the pillows propped against the headboard of the queen-sized bed, and continued to type.

  "Christ, Chick. It's not the thirties—the Great Depression is over and gone. We can afford five bucks for a shot!"

  Chick's eyes glazed over for a minute, and a wistful look appeared on her face. "I remember the depression, even though I was just a kid. My aunt—the one that was booking the numbers with my dad—she owned a grocery store in our neighborhood, and back then, family stuck together, so we got all the food we needed. Not everyone was that lucky."

  "No, they weren't, all those unfortunates out on the street—easy pickings for rogues." Christopher's eyes dropped to the bottle in his hand. "Dorius' team had their work cut out for them. I remember that was the first time I really begged to be part of his team. I'd been hinting for years, but he never dignified my requ
est with an answer. It was 1932. I was twenty-eight. The team was being dispatched to New York. A clan with twelve members was cleaning the alleys, streets, under bridges, picking off those poor souls like they were a buffet at the Golden Corral. I begged for him to give me a chance—told him looking this young would get me in the door. But he shot me down, again. I wish…"

  Chick shook her head. "Did ya ever stop to think that maybe he was protecting you?"

  Christopher stared at her for a moment before changing the subject. "We should've kept driving. The windows in the Burb are tinted. I hate sitting around." He opened the small bottle and chugged it, tossing the empty into a plastic trash can. Then he climbed on the bed beside her with another bottle in his hand.

  "Easy for you to say—I wasn't the one who screwed the night away." She turned back to the laptop. "We can't go walking around in the sun all day when we get there, anyway. Go get in your own bed and get some sleep—we got about eight hours before we can leave. And put that frigging bottle back, or fork up some cash. Depression or no depression, I'm not paying for booze. You don't need it." Chick finished typing, pressed the "send" button, and stared into Christopher's angry eyes. "I needed to stop anyway; I'm setting up a meeting for us in New Orleans."

  Christopher let out a long breath. "With the telepath?"

  Chick moved the cursor to another email and clicked it open. "No. The vamp that's sleeping with her. He sent me an email—the telepath's out of town on business and can't meet with us, but he knows a half-demon and he's trying to get hold of him." She pointed at the rust-colored curtains covering the only window in the room. "Can you pull those closed tighter? The sun's rays are fallin' across my feet and it's hot."

  "Did you email Dorius to check him out?" Christopher asked as he jumped off the bed and strutted to the curtains. He overlapped the edges, then pulled two blood bags out of the cooler under a small table in front of the window. With both hands full, he hopped on the other queen-sized bed, set the bottle of liquor on the nightstand, tossed the blood bags on the bed, and fluffed up three pillows behind him, grabbing for the television remote.