“Because you weren’t supposed to know,” she said.
What would she have done if I’d come to her and said, “Hey, Nonnie, am I a vampire, cause my teeth are aching like a sonofabitch and I want to suck your blood?”
Had Paul known?
Was that what my mother meant?
“When I was turned, you must have been madder than hell,” I said.
An indication of how upset I was, that I was swearing in front of Nonnie. When I'd slipped in the past, she’d frown at me, shake her head and say, “You’re known by your words, Marcie-mine.”
I waited for the rebuke, but it didn’t come. Its absence opened up a hole in my stomach.
“When you were turned,” she said a few minutes later, “I knew something terrible would happen. You were already tainted with vampiric blood. What would another dose do to you?”
“Make me a super-vampire,” I said. “A Pranic.” Or worse, a Dirugu, whatever the hell that was.
She nodded. “My sisters of the faith thought the same. It’s why they erected the circle.”
My past snicked into place, filled with memories of the women who were members of her coven. Women who, up until now, had simply been part of my life. I’d known them as Auntie Rose, Auntie Denna, Auntie Melanie - all aunts by virtue of their deep friendship with Nonnie.
I ignored their comments about the length of my dresses, the holes in my jeans, my scanty tops, listened with teenage wonder to their advice about boys. I rolled my eyes over their makeup and hairstyle hints and tried to duck their hugs. Yet they’d been a part of my childhood. I loved them because they loved Nonnie. Maybe that was why I felt so betrayed now.
“Auntie Sophie is a psychiatrist,” I said. “And she believes in witchcraft?”
“Juliana is a doctor and she believes.”
Juliana wasn’t just a doctor; she was head of the prestigious South Texas Institute for Biomedical Research.
I glanced over at the stones. As if they were connected by consciousness to the coven, they began to shine faintly green like a child’s glow in the dark toy.
“You’re in danger, Marcie.”
Suffer a vampire not to live.
“I know. I never thought I’d be in danger from you.”
She stared into the boxwoods, those curious hedges that always smelled like cat pee to me. She was careful not to look at me, but I felt her anyway, like vapor in a cartoon, reaching out to surround me.
“Did you ever love me?”
The world stilled, waiting for her answer.
“I tried to keep you safe.”
A woman could care for an abandoned puppy and not love it.
“I tried to keep you out of the circle. When you broke it, I got you free before anyone knew and came.”
I glanced over at the stones again. They were glowing brighter now. I felt the buzzing again, the low pitched pain a warning not to come too close.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“I didn’t think I had to,” she said quickly. “You had your own life. You seemed to be normal. You didn’t have your mother’s predilection for vampires.”
Little did she know.
“Is there anything you can give me?” I asked. “Something to stop all this?”
Her hand touched my knee, the contact tingly, causing the buzz to increase.
“No. Once you became a vampire, I lost all influence over you. Witches cannot consort with vampires. Our species have been enemies for millennia.”
“Does that mean we have to be, too? You’re my grandmother. You’re my Nonnie.”
“And you are a danger, dear Marcie, to anyone who would come close to you.”
My mother, with all her unconscious cruelties, had never leveled me with words like my grandmother did now. Not only was I a vampire - or a vampire something or other - but I was out there all by myself. My mother couldn’t be bothered and my grandmother was afraid of me.
“Well, at least I know why I’m weird,” I said, standing. I wanted to hug her, but then I wanted to be nine years old again, spending the summer with her while my mother went off to find herself with another man.
“What happened to Paul?” I asked. “Did you kill him?” I couldn’t believe I was asking my grandmother if she was a coldblooded killer.
“It’s time for you to leave, Marcie. Before someone comes.”
For the first time, she sounded her age. Worse, she sounded tired, as if her bones ached and her skin sagged.
I needed the answers to more questions but the stones were practically white now. I had the feeling the sisters of the faith were on their way. The idea of confronting twelve witches in a dark garden didn’t intrigue me so I retraced my steps by the glowing rocks and left my grandmother’s house, knowing I would never come back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
That dog won’t hunt but he will lick
On the way home I stopped by a fast food place, got myself a vanilla shake and a guacamole burger with onion rings. Who says I don’t know how to celebrate properly?
I might lose my grandmother. My mother might renounce me. I could be labeled an aberration, a danger, and a vampire something-or-other, but I could always count on my appetite. Since I wasn’t putting on weight, I decided I should be grateful for gluttony. At least it took my mind off my situation for a few minutes.
I ate in the parking lot, which was probably a no-no on the huge list of dos and don’ts I had to sign at the car rental agency. Hopefully, by the time I gave them their car back, the smells from tonight and all future escapades would have faded and the new car scent gain the upper hand. I gathered up my trash and deposited it in the oversize concrete container by the exit and drove slowly home.
I didn’t want to go home alone. I didn’t want to sit and wonder if something invisible was watching me. I didn’t want to scare myself.
I took the next exit and five minutes later found myself in front of Walmart. There must be a lot of vampires in the neighborhood because the twenty-four hour store’s parking lot was full.
A half hour later, I had two dog bowls, a ten pound bag of kibble, three dog toys, a collar, leash, flea and tick medication and a renewed appreciation for those who work in retail.
I felt sorry for the clerk, a middle-aged woman with two deep gouges between her eyes and thinned lips. She asked me the questions clerks have asked from time immemorial: were you able to find everything, uttered in a disinterested, canned voice. I doubt she heard what I said, or the comment it had gotten colder. She only slid my items across the electric eye, staring at the point of sale machine like it was the Oracle of Delphi.
Because I felt sorry for her, or maybe because I was wanting to see if I could after the experience with Dan, I sent a thought to her. What a great night you’ve had. The rest of the night will be even better.
She bagged up my stuff with a small smile and I helped her, thinking maybe I should go around and implant messages in people’s brains to make them happier. That was one way to use my power.
But what right did I have to insert myself in anyone’s life or thoughts?
I looked back at the clerk. Should I say something to counteract the thought I’d given her? I was no better than Nonnie and her twelve friends, trying to shape the actions of others with hexes and spells. Worse, I was acting as judge of another person’s life.
I should be worrying about my own actions, not those of other people. I was about to do something ridiculous. On a scale of one to ten it probably ranked at a seven.
Contrary to what Il Duce said about dogs not liking vampires, I was going to get myself a dog, a canine companion, someone to spend the night with me. If he sensed a vampire or a witch, or something invisible in my house, all the better.
Since it was after midnight, no shelters were open. Besides, I wasn’t eager to be barked at when I went to adopt a dog. Nor did I want to be bitten.
Plus, I wasn’t comfortable with the idea of walking in the sunlight yet. It was one
thing to be bathed by a dawn sun while standing in my small garden, another to get in my rental car and go merrily on my way. Sooner or later, I was going to have to try, just not in the next day or two.
But I knew of one dog that liked me.
I was going to do a little checking, that’s all. I’d been thinking about him, wondering if he was hungry or if he’d found his way home. If he was still in the woods, I’d take him back to my apartment while I looked for his family.
Maybe I was foolish to have turned down Dan’s offer of a safe house, but everything in my life had changed. I wanted something to remain the same. I didn’t want to become something different and unexplained, lose all my friends and my home in one fell swoop. It was bad enough my townhouse had suddenly become spooky.
I pulled the car next to the curb about a half mile from the Vampire Training Academy and walked into the woods.
I am not a nature girl. I don’t go into paroxysms of rapture about scenery. I’ve been to the Grand Canyon and I’ve been to Europe. When I was twenty-seven, before meeting Bill, I took my savings and bought an extra week of vacation and went to London, Paris, then Rome for three weeks. While I enjoyed the trip, I wasn’t in a hurry to replicate the adventure. I’d been impressed with manmade creations and those of God. I’d even, in an ill-timed quickie tour, seen the pyramids of Egypt. I will never, please God, get on a camel again as long as I live.
I’ll take my scenery like my sports on an HDTV.
Leaves rustled beneath my feet, a midnight breeze caressed my cheek in passing. I heard a squeak to my left. Did mice live in the woods? If so, they’d better watch out for the owl in a nearby tree.
I walked into a series of small branches as prickly as a wrestler’s armpit because I couldn’t see anything. I wished for eyes like a cat or a…
Oh, hell, I hadn’t thought about werewolves. Just because I’d never encountered one didn’t mean I was safe in the woods. Of course, it wasn’t time for a full moon. But could they turn at other times?
I felt a little ridiculous but I stood in one spot and called out, “Doggie? Here, doggie.”
I froze at the sound of panting, imagining slavering jowls and fiery red eyes.
Oh, I was so screwed.
Why the hell was I in the middle of the woods? Why did I think I was somehow impervious to danger? I was acting as stupid as a movie heroine dressed only in a towel walking outside to check a noise armed with a flashlight. No, strike that. I didn’t even have a damn flashlight.
In the next moment I was knocked on my ass by a wriggling, whining yellow lab.
“You scared me,” I said, reaching up and scratching his ears while trying to keep my face tongue free.
My hands explored his sides, felt his ribs while he tried to insert himself inside my skin. Poor thing, he was probably hungry.
“It’s okay, I’m here now. I’ll make sure you get some food.”
He snuffled at my neck, made me giggle, then anointed my cheek with a tongue as wide as the Mississippi. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him in for a hug.
“It’s okay,” I kept saying, either to him or me, I couldn’t tell which.
I managed to get to my knees, not a particularly easy feat given the adoration of my four legged pal.
When I said, “Move,” he did, to my surprise.
He nosed me again and I laughed.
“I don’t have any more peanut butter cookies,” I said. “But I do have food in the car. A big bag of yummy food. And treats, too.”
The Lab trotted at my side to the car, then waited as if he knew I was opening the door.
“It’s not safe for you to be riding in the front seat, so I’m putting you in the back.”
He whined as if he understood.
How desperate must I be for companionship that I was interpreting a dog’s sounds? Pretty damn desperate, because I was suddenly more lighthearted than I’d felt in weeks.
Nor was I afraid to go home.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Cinderella goes to the ball
While Mutt (I had to come up with a better name, but I was sucky at names. Look how well I’d done with vampire.) scarfed down a bowl of meat based chow, I was eating another couple of slices of raisin bread toast.
One of these days, all those calories were going to bite me in the ass, or add to my ass, either one. For now, however, I was happy to the last crunchy buttery bite and wash my hands.
The gorging done, we trotted into my office where Mutt sat at my feet while I did some more searching on Dirugu. I was trying every known spelling. My luck, it would turn out to be some obscure Latvian dialect never written down. So far, zip.
I pulled out the information from my orientation class, turned to the roster and, before I lost my nerve, called Kenisha.
After being routed three times, I finally connected with her.
“It’s Marcie,” I said. “How are you?”
I expected a torrent of profanity. She must have been with someone because all she said was, “Fine.” Ice coated that one word.
Enough of pleasantries so I asked the question, the reason I’d called.
“Have you learned anything new about Opie’s death?”
“Why do you care?”
I looked at Mutt who raised his head and made a noise in the back of his throat. “I know,” I mouthed, agreeing with his instant annoyance.
“Have you?”
She hung up on me.
People didn’t understand how persistent I was. Where anyone else might get discouraged, I dug my heels in and kept on keeping on. I didn’t give up. I didn’t surrender. I was used to dealing with men who thought women were a lower life form, with criminals in suits who thought they were smarter than anyone else and companies who thought their insurance premiums meant they could treat me like their personal geisha. I had taken it all and did my job.
I could jolly well handle a nasty cop.
I went through the round robin again until I reached Kenisha. The minute she answered, I started talking.
“I don’t give a flying fig if you hate my guts. I’m calling to see if you’ve found out anything about Opie’s death. I care because someone was trying to kill me. You’re a cop; do your job. Or are you too much a vampire?”
“What the hell do you mean?”
Her anger didn’t intimidate me. I was angry enough to counter anything Kenisha could dish out.
“Vampires don’t seem to care about justice. All they give a damn about is their next meal. Don’t rock the boat. Don’t do anything to make anyone feel uncomfortable. Don’t be different.”
“I’m a cop who’s a vampire. Not a vampire who’s a cop.”
“Good to know. Now, have you learned anything about Opie’s death?”
“A convenience store camera caught enough of a picture of the truck to figure out it was a female.”
I didn’t want to hear that, but I thanked her anyway. She hung up halfway through my gratitude grovel.
When Mutt growled again, I said, “You got it, boy-o.”
Mutt was doing exactly what I wanted, giving me the illusion of feeling safe. He didn’t sniff the air; he didn’t stare intently at a vacant corner. He didn’t howl at something I couldn’t see. He lay with his chin propped on my foot, as content as if we’d been friends for years instead of hours.
I took him out to my little garden, made a mental note to contact the complex’s manager and pay the pet deposit. Just until I found his home, of course. Strange, I hadn’t surfed the net to see if there was such a thing as a lost dog site.
Mutt made a little huff of sound, staring at the gate. I felt the goosebumps rise on my neck. I’d already had my brave moment for the night. I allowed myself to get paranoid for about a minute before I realized it was probably Dan sitting in his truck, watching after me as he was paid to do.
What had made him offer me his home as a safe house? Why, for that matter, was I always wondering at people’s hidden motivations? I ha
dn’t realized I was so cynical.
I went into the house, Mutt trailing behind, his duty done and a relieved smile on his face. I squirted some of the flea stuff on his neck, put his new collar on and removed the old one.
“We should get you a vet appointment,” I said, brightly, careful not to put any emphasis on the word “vet”. “You need to be checked out and given shots.” I stopped myself. That would be important only if I couldn’t find his family.
“Where are your people, Mutt?” I asked, ruffling his ears.
He turned his head and smiled at me, his eyes twinkling.
I stood, walked a few feet and put my hand out palm to him. He immediately sat. I raised both hands up and he stood. I looked at him, said, “Stay,” and he remained in place even when I got to the door.
“Come,” I said and he was at my side as we went up the stairs.
As smart as Mutt was and as well trained, he had to have had a good home.
I added another item to my list. It now looked like:
1. Try to stay alive.
2. Figure out what the hell I am.
3. Find Mutt’s family.
4. Get another name for “vampire” and “Mutt”.
All in all, it was a longer list than whoever was running people down and shooting at me. That list was:
1. Kill Marcie.
For some reason, a horned helmet wearing Elmer Fudd popped into my mind, singing, “Kill the Marcie, kill the Marcie.”
Something I realized in the last week: you can’t maintain tension for long periods. The human psyche - and you’ll pardon if I use the word human - can’t continue with one emotion indefinitely. Tension leads to humor, maybe fatigue, even anger. I was feeling fatigue and maybe a little humor as odd as it sounds.
Right now I wanted to put the tension aside, have a bubble bath followed by a glass of wine and a little bonding time with my borrowed dog.
The doorbell put an end to that.
I glanced down at Mutt, who turned and trotted to the head of the stairs.
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