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

by Susan Stec

  Betty smiled at Dorius. "Sky's the limit, right baby? He said I could buy whatever I wanted. If we had more time, I'd take the private jet ta Italy an' shop, but his brother-in-law already snaked it ta go visit his wife."

  Dorius cleared his throat. "Can you two take this conversation up to your rooms after we discuss the issue at hand?"

  Warren laughed. "Damn women. It's always about shoppin'."

  Zaire's eyes shot daggers at him.

  "Yes, well there isn't time for shopping talk right now," Dorius stated. "We have a lead on the rogue and I am sending you all to New Orleans to join the rest of the team. Chick has a meeting set up for tomorrow night." Dorius slid folders across the table to Zaire and Warren. "The information you need is in the files." He turned his eyes on Betty. "And if you insist on joining them, I suggest you browse your file instead of the bridal magazines you have all over your room."

  "You're letting her go?" Zaire blurted out.

  Dorius' nostrils flared. "It seems I have no choice."

  Zaire laughed and slapped Betty on the shoulder. "Excellent!"

  Dorius sounded like thunder. "It will not be excellent if anything happens to her." He locked eyes with Zaire. "I suggest you do not let Betty out of your sight. Do I make myself clear?"

  "Yeah, real clear," Warren said, smiling at Zaire.

  "I'm glad you understand, Warren, because you will also be responsible for her," Dorius said, giving Warren one of his plastic smiles. "All three of you will be flying Delta. The plane leaves from Miami Airport at seven forty-five tomorrow evening. We'll meet here at five tomorrow for a final briefing."

  * * * *

  Christopher dragged his duffel bag behind him as he walked down the hall toward Chick's room. "Another night of type O and television while we wait for your fantasy character to give us directions for a meeting that will only end in embarrassment."

  "He's a damn vampire, and one that will hook us up with a demon!" Chick spat as she slid the card across the metal box attached to the door. When the light changed from red to green, she flipped the handle down and opened the door wide. "After you, butt-wipe."

  "This is such a waste of time." Christopher slid by her. "Shit! My cell is vibrating."

  He tossed his duffel bag on the first bed and dug into his jeans for the phone.

  "If it's either of my daughters, just hang up," Chick said as she placed her suitcase on top of a metal stand and carefully opened it. She pulled out her laptop and carried it over to a circular table by the only window in the room as she searched for a phone plug.

  Christopher flipped the cell phone open. "Susan, whaddaya want now?"

  Chick walked by, stopping in the threshold of the bathroom door. "Just get her off the phone by the time I get out and don't tell her nothin'!"

  Christopher fanned his hand at her, and Chick pushed the door shut.

  Christopher listened for a couple of minutes, and then said, "No shit?" His brows pulled together as he continued to listen, finally whispering, "I'll explain everything to her. You got a pen?" He snagged a brochure off the bedside table. "We're in room twenty-seven at the French Market Inn on Rue Decatur. It's in the French Quarter."

  He was about to flip the phone closed when Chick burst out of the bathroom and went all postal. "What the hell are you doing? And why the hell did you tell them where we are?" She strutted across the room and slapped the laptop closed. "Come on, we're finding another hotel."

  "No, we're not. The vamp we're meeting—at least you got something right—is the rogue that's been killing all those humans. The were-panther probably helped. Dorius is sending out the whole team. They'll be here by tomorrow night, so you better set up the meeting sometime after midnight. Then we can all work out a plan for catching the bastard. Now turn the damn computer back on. Dorius is sending us a file."

  Chick paused for a minute, chewing on the inside of her cheek, her hand hovering over the laptop, eyes wandering around the room. "And he knows this, how?"

  "They've been following him."

  She opened the laptop and reluctantly sat in front of it. "Well, hell! Doesn't seem like I have any other choice at the moment. I'll play their game, but I'm…"

  "Have you felt anyone trying to read your mind?" Christopher asked, casually laying down the brochure on the dresser. "I have, and I can't block whoever it is."

  "Who gives a shit?" Chick hammered the keys on the computer.

  ~~~~

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  ~~~~

  I squeezed a bottle of my favorite shampoo, Moonlight Path, over my head, the sweet smell filling the shower stall. Marcus and I had just fed from each other, and my body was still tingling in the aftermath of post coital pleasure. Eyes closed, I began to massage the shampoo into my scalp, mentally watching Paul, who was sitting in front of Marcus at the picnic table in the dining room.

  I still wasn't as good at getting into Marcus' head as he was getting into mine, but right after sex and feeding from him, it was always much easier. I could hear the whole conversation as they made plans for our trip to New Orleans.

  "I don't see the need for the motorcycle." Marcus' voice filled my mind. "With our immortal speed, Susan and I could move about the streets much more quickly on foot."

  While I rinsed the shampoo from my hair, I tilted my head back, letting the water cascade over my face and down my chest. I could see Paul perfectly through Marcus' eyes as he answered, "It isn't just about speed, Marcus. It's about being inconspicuous as you get from one place to another quickly. The streets in the French Quarter are crowded, someone is sure to notice if you move about with immortal speed. A motorcycle would give better access to the main avenue and alleyways, and it’s a damn good way to get from one side of the town to the other without standing out."

  I grinned. It'd been years since I rode on a motorcycle and the thought made my body tingle even more. Legs wrapped around leather, the vibrations of the road, thrill of the wind in my hair—always made me feel wild and free. I lathered up my hands with a bar of lavender soap and ran them over my breasts.

  Marcus turned and Resi came into view as she said, "He's right. Zaire and I went to New Orleans right before Mardi Gras one year and you could barely move in the streets. Your speed would definitely be noticed. But there was a guy on a motorcycle and the crowd parted to let him and his bride through. It was funny as hell, her in her gown, him in a tux, driving up and down the streets on a big, black Harley, followed by their wedding party."

  I giggled when Marcus said, "I've never driven a motorcycle, but I'm sure I can handle it."

  "Mom has," I heard Jeni say from somewhere in the room.

  "Susan will not be driving," Marcus huffed, "I will."

  I burst out laughing, unconsciously sliding the soap between my legs, sending rippling waves of pleasure over my body, while Paul said, "I printed out the file Dorius emailed us." I applied more pressure to the bar of soap, slowly running it back and forth as I watched Paul push the paperwork toward Marcus.

  I heard a growl forming deep in Marcus' throat. Would that I could be that bar of soap, darling.

  I sucked in a gasp. My eyes popped open and I yanked the soap away from my body, almost falling on my ass. Are you talking to me?

  Close your eyes Susan, and run your hands over your nipples. Make them hard for me.

  You're watching me! I half-heartedly accused, snapping my eyes shut; the blood I'd taken from him crackling like pinpricks of static electricity through my veins. The soap left a slow trail over my stomach, up to my chest; the warm water washing away each circular move I made. This is better than telephone sex, I pushed, a fire now pooling low and hot.

  His deep, throaty laugher filled my head. Indeed. Reach down and pleasure yourself for me.

  I moaned, spreading my fingers, and running them over my belly toward the place that was demanding attention. While my fingers stroked soft flesh and the water sent warmth down my back and over my cheeks, I tried a coy whisper, which came
out more like a panting sob. Is this what you wanted me to do?

  Paul's finger came into view behind my eyelids when he shoved a photocopy of the crime scene in front of Marcus' eyes. "Look at these scratches and gouges. The skin is shredded. It looks like a shifter to me."

  I could see a mental image as Marcus' eyes played over the photo. I can feel your body heating up, darling. Do you wish it was I stroking you? "Yes, it does, but a wild animal could have gotten to the bodies before the team found them."

  "That's true," Paul answered, "but why didn't it eat the flesh? Some of the body parts have been torn from the carcass, but it doesn't look like any were taken for sustenance."

  I couldn't stop now if my immortal life depended on it. I moved slippery fingers slower, pressed harder, lost in the sensations and the wickedness of his inability to do anything but watch. Are you getting hard, Marcus? I asked, my mind filled with our earlier sexual encounter; his tongue licking, teeth nipping, lips sucking. I tilted my head back, allowing a panted moan to escape.

  "While I can see your point, Paul, Lily did say there was only one immortal committing the murders," Marcus replied; then pushed, Not to worry, love, I can control my desires, but you are nonetheless, driving me…

  My body stiffened—fingers froze—and I spat water out as I mentally snapped, You can what?

  Control my impulses. Why did you stop touching yourself?

  I'm so totally opposed to you being able to do that! How come I can't do that?

  "Maybe she's wrong," Resi said. Her face flashed in my mind as Marcus turned her way. "When she gets back from her walk with Jake and Gibbie, we can ask her again."

  "We can do that, but I think it's unnecessary," Marcus said. Touch yourself, Susan. I want to feel your climax.

  "I still think we should be ready for anything." Paul gathered the papers and put them back into a folder on the table.

  When hell freezes over! I was seething with anger, standing rigid under water that was starting to get cold.

  "Where's Mom?" I heard Jeni ask.

  Marcus answered, "In the shower. Maybe I should hurry her along."

  No frigging way! I turned off the water, threw the bar of soap, which bounced off the wall, as I grabbed for a towel and leapt from the shower.

  I jerked a pair of jeans off the counter in the bathroom, tossing the towel on top of the hamper. Hopping on one foot, I tried to get into the jeans before he entered the room.

  I didn't even see him coming. I was on the bed, on my back, and he was on top of me, naked from the waist down, before I could even get a word out. I placed both my hands on his chest and pushed hard.

  He got up off the floor on the other side of the room and slowly walked toward me. "Does it always have to be so forceful? Can't we just make slow, romantic love once in a while?"

  "Okay, now that sounds awfully possessive to me," I whimpered, scooting back against the headboard, my damn clitoris zinging.

  "Possession goes both ways, darling. I want you in my bed, permanently. I never want another man's hands touching your body. Marry me, Susan. Be my true mate."

  "I am your mate!" I shouted as he came closer.

  "I wish to make that more permanent." He stood at the foot of the bed, both hands on his hips.

  "That statement makes my chest constrict. And I told you from the beginning that I'd never marry again. It just gets ugly when I make things permanent. Controlling—a battle of whose boss, and…"

  "I'm not like your previous husbands." He growled with frustration. "And I don't want to be compared to them anymore. I'm not talking about a mortal marriage, although you would surely benefit from one, should I die. I'm talking about a Blood Oath, an immortal document, sealed in blood, declaring I belong to you and you to me."

  "But what if our feelings for each other are just physical? What if we don't have anything else in common but blood and sex? Huh? Have you ever thought of that? I want more! I want someone I can spend the rest of my life with because immortality means a hell of a long time, and what if…"

  "What if," he started with a twinkle in his eyes, "I leave you for a while and give you time to think about your concerns? Give it a test run. See if you want to live without me. Is that what you want?"

  Hell no! I immediately thought. Damn it, he was giving me a choice and damn if I didn't want the only logical one he could offer. "I don't think that's necessary. I just like things the way they…"

  "Hush," he chuckled, climbing back on the bed, moving slowly until he was looming over me. "I'm willing to let you think about it. We will address this issue again after we complete our mission in New Orleans." His body was cold against my skin, lips kindling the fire as they found mine; our tongues fighting for control.

  I could still taste his blood in my mouth, and desperately longed for more. No, I couldn't—didn't want to exist without this immortal. Not one day. Not one hour.

  We locked eyes as he slid inside me; my hips matching his thrusts. Body parts that usually performed mundane functions, responded with need under fingers that caressed, and teased. He threw his head back, eyes tight, brows knitted together, and moaned deeply, and I became lost in a world of passion and release.

  * * * *

  "So, did you get all packed, sweetie?" Jeni asked as she zipped her suitcase closed. "We'll be leaving in a few hours."

  Lily slid up behind her. "Yes, Cousin Jeni. Resi was nice enough to help me pick out what I needed to bring along on our outing. Aunt Susan is up in her bedroom with Uncle Marcus and I believe they are having some 'quiet time'." Her little fingers made quote marks in the air. "That's what Mother calls it when she is fornicating with Father. It seems very contradictory, since they are never quiet. Neither are Uncle Marcus and Aunt Susan."

  Jeni frowned. "Fornicating is a big word for a little girl and a bit… bold, don't you think?"

  "Not at all," Lily said matter-of-factly as she climbed on the bed beside the suitcase. "It's just a term. Fornicating is having sexual relations out of wedlock and it applies to both parties."

  Jeni hid a smile. "Well, you're just a cute, little, walking dictionary, aren't you?"

  "Actually, Cousin Jeni, I am a demon," Lily said all adult-like.

  "It's just a figure of speech, honey. I didn't mean you were an actual dictionary."

  "Well, might I suggest you say what you mean?" Lily said, her brows pulling together.

  "I'll try to do that," Jeni said through a big smile.

  Lily changed the subject. "I've been communing with the world you live in. The flowers, trees, earth, even the structures have an odor and texture. I especially enjoyed the lake behind the house. It's fluid! I could flow through and around the living organisms that exist there. It's full of plants, animals, and bacteria. Although they are certainly inferior beings, they do have a sort of community that revolves around the different life forms in a chain of dominance and survival. Amazing and very exhilarating. I have never smelled a flower, or felt the fluidity of water."

  Jeni laid her suitcase by the bedroom door and walked over to the bed to sit beside Lily. She tilted her head and forced a smile. "But when my mother spoke with you on the phone your father gave us, she said you were in a field of clover. Surely, you smelled the clover, and I'm sure you have lakes in… um..."

  Lily turned her hand over and ran her knuckles along the material of her jeans, eyes half closed. "No, Father created illusions for Mother so she wouldn't miss her world. But nothing has real substance. The Abyss is physically sensory-deprived. We neither feel, smell, nor taste our surroundings. Each species does give off a kind of mental awareness, I suppose, but not in the way your senses work here on Earth. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, but by communing, do you mean you just smell and feel the water? Surely, you're not part of the water, are you?" Jeni said, eyes big and round.

  Lily flopped her head from side-to-side, her ponytail slapping her cheeks. "Absolutely, yes, I am, if I wish to be, and although it was overwhelming at first, I f
ind it fascinating now. I just think about an entity and I become that entity. I also discovered that I can manipulate whatever I become."

  ~~~~

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  ~~~~

  It was almost nine in the morning when Warren opened the back door of the limo and Betty shimmied her way out. Zaire pushed from behind, shoving yards of green, rayon tulle after her. The body of her wedding dress was blood red, skin tight to her ankles, in the shape of a lily, with the cone puffing out around her head like a cobra, ready to strike. Her blonde hair, combed in little curls, flittered in a soft breeze akin to a conspicuous, protruding stamen, spreading its gift.

  Her feet strapped in green sandals with six-inch heels made her appear as if she were walking on the tips of her red toenails. They peeked out from a hem that didn't allow much walking room.

  Betty wobbled across the sidewalk in front of the courthouse while Zaire grabbed up an armload of green tulle train and they headed up the steps.

  Passersby gawked. Horns blew. Catcalls filled the air.

  Zaire gritted her teeth, trying to keep up as she tugged at her own dress. It was light pink tulle and dark pink taffeta with a shitload of bright red, silk bows tacked on all over the place. They sprinkled the shoulder straps, circled the waist, and sixty ran down the zipper at the back. The A-line dress stopped just above her knees; and the front of the bodice was one big red bow, which plunged in the center. Zaire kept trying to tug it up a few inches.

  Warren chuckled. "Zaire, honey, that color goes right smart with your skin tone and brings out yer feminine side a bit too." His eyes went from her cleavage to her bare knees. "Ain't bad seein' those legs stickin' outta something 'sides a pair of men's shorts either."

  Zaire dropped her fangs, and hissed. "Screw you! She shoulda put your flat ass in this dress, 'cause I know I could fill out that tux better than you do."

  Warren burst out laughing as they struggled out of the elevator on the third floor.