“Yes, about that,” Ethan said as he swung a giggling Samuel up onto his shoulders then turned his focus on me. “I was quite surprised you recognized Gareth. Maybe it didn’t take.”
“It take, Daddy,” Samuel assured him. The little man was making ponytails with his father’s hair.
In my centuries of serving Prince Ethan, I never would have pictured him laughing like he did with his son. Astrid and Samuel had brought a very serious and hardened man back to life.
“But Venus recognized him,” Ethan pointed out as he angled his head so Samuel had better access.
“Of course she do,” Sammy said with an eye roll as his slid off his father’s shoulders and hung off his neck. “Penus will always see the weal Garif. Always.”
“So Venus doesn’t see the blond haired, brown eyed man you glamoured Gareth into?” Astrid questioned, retrieving the little monkey from his father’s neck.
Color me confused. What the Hell were they talking about? Gareth had black hair and blue eyes.
“Nooooooooo!” Samuel explained, cuddling close to Astrid as she sat down on the couch with him. “Penus see him cause…”
“Because she’s very powerful,” Gareth quickly interrupted his nephew, entering the room and keeping a fair amount of distance from me. “That’s why she can see through the glamour you placed on me. Nothing more.”
“You be Pinocchio,” Samuel said, pointing a chubby finger at his uncle.
“And you’re about to be Sleeping Beauty,” Astrid said, tickling a laughing Samuel. “You want The Kev and Gemma to put you to bed tonight?”
“Ohhhhhhh, yes!” Samuel clapped his little hands and bounced in his mother’s lap. “He do stowies wif lots of voices and faces. I wuv The Kev and my Gemma.”
As if on cue The Kev and Gemma entered the office. If looks could kill, The Kev would have been a goner from the glare Gareth was sending his way. The Kev just waved and winked at him.
“Who you be today?” Samuel demanded as he marched over to The Kev and yanked on his shirt.
“Billy Ray Cyrus,” The Kev answered as he scooped Samuel up into a hug. “Tonight I will sing for you.”
“Heaven help us all,” Gemma said with a wince and a laugh. “Does anyone have any ear plugs I could borrow?”
Gemma and Astrid had been best friends since childhood. When Astrid had been turned two years ago, Gemma had discovered she wasn’t quite as human as she’d always believed. She was a Fairy just like The Kev and she was about to assume the throne in Zanthia.
Gemma was exquisite and while she didn’t take on different faces like The Kev did, I knew she muted her looks with magic. I was the lucky third in the trio of women and I counted myself blessed to have such loyal and amazing best friends.
Her icy silver eyes grew wide with pleasure when she spotted me in the room.
“God, I’ve missed you.” Gemma grabbed me and held me tight. Her fragrant scent of rain and orchids calmed my soul. “You will be very careful on this mission. If you die, I will yank your sorry ass out of wherever you land and drag you back.”
Grinning and tucking a lock of curly golden blonde hair behind her ear, I rolled my eyes. “I’m already dead, dork. However, I have no plans of turning to dust in the near future.”
“Roberto has been told the traitor is Rachmiel,” Ethan said, bringing all of us back to the matter at hand.
“Did you hear everything Juliette said?” I asked.
Ethan’s nod was curt. “The silver aspect is interesting. I’d highly doubt that a touch to his skin would kill Vlad, but he might perish if he were chained in it.”
“Explain,” The Kev said as he took a seat and cuddled the barely awake Samuel in his massive arms.
“Juliette said that Vlad was deathly allergic to silver—that a touch would kill him.”
“A mere touch?” Gemma asked doubtfully.
Astrid closed her eyes and let her head fall back on the couch. “It’s Juliette we’re talking about here. She’s not the most stable or reliable source.”
“True.” I nodded and pushed down the irrational pangs of sympathy I felt for her. “But she seemed sure.”
Ethan stared at me for a long beat and then shrugged. “Best case scenario, it’s correct. My guess would be that his allergy is more severe than most Vampyres. How would she know it could kill him? As far as I know the bastard is still alive.”
“Not for long,” Gareth muttered.
The Kev glanced over at Gemma and gave her a small nod.
Gemma reached out her hands to me and Gareth. “Come here.”
We both approached warily while trying to keep as much distance between us as possible. It didn’t go unnoticed by the occupants of the room. I ignored the snickers as did Gareth. He and I were going to have a serious talk. Soon.
“Give me your hands.” Gemma’s musical voice danced around the room and her eyes literally sparkled silver. “This will hurt like a bitch, but it’s worth it.”
“Like a bitch,” Sammy mumbled right before he fell asleep.
“Whoops. Sorry,” she apologized to Astrid and Ethan.
“Dude, relax,” Astrid replied with a shrug and an embarrassed laugh. “My son’s potty mouth is the least of my worries at the moment. What are you gonna do to them?”
“Just a little magic,” she replied easily.
My Fairy friend was loaded with magic. I’d even seen her morph into a monster roughly the size of an SUV when seriously pissed—rather frightening, but very impressive. However, she was also a giver. Gemma hated that others weren’t as safe as she was and was constantly handing out little extras to those she loved. The extras usually did hurt like a bitch, but that was the way life went.
Tilting her head to the side she stared at Gareth for a long beat. “You really look weird. I can tell it’s you because of your aura, but it’s still wonky.”
“Thank you,” Gareth said with a chuckle. “I’ll choose to take that as a compliment.”
“It’s meant as one,” she said as she glanced down at our hands and wrinkled her nose in thought. “Put your left hands in.”
We did.
“No.” Changing her mind, she her lips pursed and closed her eyes for a moment. “Take your left hand out. Put your right hand in.”
“Should we shake it all about?” Gareth asked, bemused.
My giggle escaped before I could swallow it. I’d been thinking the exact same thing.
Glancing over at The Kev with concern, Gemma sighed loudly. “Wanna help me out here, babe?”
“Right hand,” The Kev confirmed, seeming unconcerned that Gemma was about to do some kind of painful voodoo on us and wasn’t quite sure which hand to use.
“Umm… dude,” Astrid cut in. “Is this just gonna hurt or could you mistakenly blow their asses to Kingdom Come? Cause that would be all kinds of not good.”
“Of course not,” Gemma huffed, indignantly. “I would never risk the lives of those I love. It’s just that one hand is silver and the other is gold.”
“Should I?” Gareth asked, peeking over at me with a lopsided grin.
“Yep,” I replied feeling giddy.
“Make new friends, but keep the old…” he sang, much to the confusion of all present except me.
“You done?” Gemma asked him.
“Depends on what else you say,” Gareth quipped.
With an eye roll and a giggle, she took our hands and began to chant something melodic and beautiful. Tears pooled in my eyes and I felt like I was falling off the edge of a stunning cliff.
“Don’t let go,” she whispered in between the lyrics.
Peach and silver sparkles blew gently through the room as I felt my insides tickle and tingle. My head swam with vibrant colors and my body involuntarily swayed with the rhythm. Lost in a beautiful storm in my mind, I wondered why Gemma had said it would be painful.
And then I screamed.
Silver fire engulfed our hands that were clasped in Gemma’s. The haunting mel
ody continued, but my stomach now felt like burning knives ripped through my gut. Gareth didn’t scream, but his displeasure was abundantly clear.
“Son of a bitch,” he hissed, jaw clenched and body tense. “The result better be worth it.”
I couldn’t have agreed more. I’d been pummeled by The Kev, head-punched by Sven and now lit on fire by one of my best friends. It took everything I owned not to pull my flaming hand away from hers.
Swearing profusely, Gareth stayed as still as I did. He was a tough Vampyre—but then again, so was I.
“That’s it,” Gemma announced. The fire extinguished as quickly as it had started.
The sparkling mist remained and the melody she had sung still floated in my head. But thankfully the pain disappeared with the flames.
“What in the ever loving hell did you just do?” I asked, examining my hand. It was completely normal. No evidence that it had just been engulfed in silver fire.
Looking extremely proud of herself, Gemma preened and curtsied. “You’re immune to silver.”
“Completely?” Gareth asked, shocked.
“Sadly no,” she replied. “Your right hands are. You can handle the metal and not burn.”
“Forever?” I was truly amazed. Silver was our kryptonite. I’d barely touched it in over two hundred years.
“Again, sadly no. But it should last a month or two at least,” Gemma said. “It’s just a precautionary measure. If what Juliette said about Vlad and silver is true, this will make it easier for you to use it against him.”
“You are so scarily brilliant and I am mother humpin’ glad to be on your good side,” Astrid said, checking out our hands with awe. “If only this could be permanent, we’d be in business.”
“Working on it,” Gemma said. “But I do have to say, it would probably suck big butts to be totally engulfed in flames.”
I shuddered at the thought having just experienced only one hand on fire, but I’d go through it willingly if it meant silver wouldn’t affect me.
“The little one is snoring,” The Kev whispered, planting a kiss on Samuel’s head. “Come Gemma. The Vampyres have plans to make and we have a child to cuddle with.”
With hugs all around and a loving threat to be careful, Gemma and The Kev quietly left the office.
“All right, let’s get down to business. Martha and Jane will be accompanying you,” Ethan said. “You leave within the hour.”
My laughter filled the office and Gareth joined in.
Astrid and Ethan were not laughing.
Oh. My. God. My Prince wasn’t joking.
Chapter Ten
“Call me crazy, but I have a theory,” Jane said so seriously that I almost believed she had something worthwhile to say. Almost.
“Okay, I’ll bite and raise you one. Motherfucking bat shit crazy,” Astrid said without missing a beat.
Martha and Jane had joined us in the office and it was going downhill fast.
“I’m gonna ignore that, Chesty McBoobicles,” Jane shot back. “We might be a smidge and a half off the old rocker, but we’re good lookin’ and extremely passive aggressive. That adds up to something.”
“What?” Martha asked looking as confused as the rest of us.
Jane gave Martha an exasperated grunt. “Whose side are you on, hooker?”
“Yours?”
“Kill me now,” I muttered, waiting to hear the theory. I was also secretly hoping Ethan would change his mind about them coming on the mission. It was abundantly clear that they were deranged.
Jane continued, but only after giving Martha a quick and painful looking noogie on her head. “So correct me if I’m wrong, but it’s sounding to me like Venus is gonna be using her knockers as weapons.”
“And she told us hooters weren’t weapons,” Martha announced to the room referring to our earlier discussion with her bony finger pointed at me. Apparently she was back on Jane’s side.
“That’s your damn theory?” I practically shouted.
Short of banging my head against the wall or removing theirs, I did all I could to keep my cool. There was no way in Hell I was going to let two old women wearing gauchos and sequined bras get the best of me. We had no time for this.
“Yes, that and I’d like to go on record stating that hooters are as deadly as throwing stars,” Jane added.
“Can I hurt them?” I pleaded to Ethan.
“Sadly, no. Martha and Jane, Venus’ lady parts have nothing to do with the mission.”
“While I agree with my brother, I’d like to go on record and state that Venus does have a lethal pair,” Gareth offered up only seconds before Astrid popped him in the head.
“Hear me out,” Martha said, just winding up. “She’s gonna parade them on the stage to catch the bad guy. So I say they’re a weapon.”
“You’re gonna be working them 34C’s like a dagger,” Jane sang gleefully.
“34D’s,” Gareth added with a wink.
I shot him a glare that should have terrified the Master Vampyre. Of course he just gave me a lopsided grin that made my knees weak, but that weakness was something I was going to ignore.
Deciding not to grace Gareth’s unnecessary, inappropriate, and entirely accurate knowledge of my cup size with a comment or a head punch, I closed my eyes and tried to figure out a logical reason to get out of the new mess that was being presented.
“I really don’t see that bringing Martha and Jane to Oklahoma with us will be beneficial—in any way,” I stated far more calmly than I felt.
Who was I kidding? It was a clusterfuck waiting to explode. The old farts were worthless in a fight and annoyed me almost as much as Gareth did. I couldn’t begin to fathom why Astrid and Ethan thought this was a good idea.
“Normally, I would agree with you,” Ethan said in a diplomatic tone. “However, Samuel insisted that they go.”
“Why?” Gareth asked, still keeping his distance in case I lobbed something at him—like a knife. “Venus and I will work faster if we don’t have any liabilities.”
“Who in the Hell are you? You are one fine looking piece of man meat,” Jane said, looking Gareth up and down with interest. “Pretty dang sure you just insulted my ass, but I’d wouldn’t throw you outta bed for eatin’ crackers.”
“For the love of everything unholy,” Astrid snapped and banged the old bag’s heads together. “That’s Gareth. Samuel glamoured him so Vlad won’t recognize him.”
“Offer still stands, Sexy Pants,” Jane told him with a little shimmy than made her saggy bosom jiggle. She waggled her eyebrows and slid slowly into the splits while eyeing Gareth like he was dinner.
It was the first time I’d ever seen Gareth look terrified. He immediately moved closer to Ethan and stood slightly behind him. I bit back my laugh with effort.
“While I’m appallingly flattered. The answer is no. Never. Not once or at any time in eternity. Ever.”
“Your loss,” Jane grunted as she ungracefully got up from her seduction split.
“This is a very bad plan.” I twisted an errant curl in my fingers and mentally catalogued all the things that could go wrong if Martha and Jane were involved. The list was endless.
Ethan shrugged and approached Martha and Jane who immediately zipped their lips and dropped to their knees in reverence.
“Possibly,” Ethan agreed, looking down at the two old menaces. “But my son works in strange ways, and was adamant that Martha and Jane go.”
“We’ve packed our bags, sire,” Martha said, crawling over and kissing his shoe.
“And I burned them,” Astrid chimed in. “You’ll be taking the bags I packed for you. You’ll look like respectable Vampyres from the Cressida House—Armani suits. Black. I did make a concession on the shoes. Instead of stilettos, I packed sensible low heeled pumps.”
Martha and Jane took in the information with expressions that looked like they’d swallowed lemons. I tried to picture them in normal clothing and found that I couldn’t. I was so used to sequins
and ass bearing disasters.
“If I have to wear a suit, I’m definitely wearing a dickie,” Jane announced.
“Enough. This is ridiculous,” Gareth stated firmly, glaring at Ethan. “They stay here. We can’t deal with insanity. The mission is life or death. While I believe Samuel to be a prophet, this is a mistake. I’m not dealing with crackpots who wear dickies. Unacceptable.”
“Everyone has their… umm… quirks,” Ethan said, trying like hell not to laugh or groan.
“Sweet Baby Jesus in a banana hammock, what in the hell do you think a dickie is?” Jane demanded.
No one spoke because no one knew.
“Um… some kind of strap on… um, male appendage?” I asked, with a wince of embarrassment.
“Hell to the no,” Martha shouted with a bark of laughter. “A dickie is a false shirt front—also known as a detachable bosom.”
Jane snickered at the word bosom and I rolled my eyes.
“It was designed to be worn with a tux, but I like a nice turtle neck dickie with a suit,” Martha said.
Jane, not wanting to be left out, continued our education. “Back in the day some were made with elastic tabs that you could tuck into your pants so your dickie wouldn’t flop around. A flopping dickie is a fucking disaster. I hated those dang straps. That elastic would get stuck in your hooha and you’d spend the entire day yanking it out.”
“Damn straight,” Martha said nodding and demonstrating the dickie elastic picking maneuver. “That’s why when I wear a dickie around my neck, I use double sided stick tape or butt glue.”
“What in the Hell is butt glue?” Astrid asked. Not a second later, she slapped her hand over her mouth in horror realizing she’d said something that would make them continue talking.
“It’s mother humpin’ awesome. Keeps my ass from fallin’ out of my booty shorts,” Jane explained. “I spray it on my money maker and then press my booty shorts into place. Voila! No extra badonkadonk.”
“Used to use hairspray on my junk in the trunk until some wonderful bastard came up with spray on butt glue, but we still use hairspray to stop static cling and for deodorant in a pinch. And while we’re sharing our morning routine, I always use a little Vaseline on my fangs to keep them from sticking to my lips when I smile,” Martha rattled off.
Fashionably Fanged Page 8
