by Sonya Clark
“Poor Bubba. You’ve been so good at avoiding stereotypes.”
“Please fucking shoot me so I can die for a little while.”
“No. I hate it when you die.”
He sighed. “Yeah, me too.” He pushed the French press in my direction. “Here, you finish this. I need blood.” He retrieved a bag of his specially acquired black market blood from the fridge, drinking from it like a kid with a bag of Capri-Sun.
I made him a cup. “Are you sure about this? With her, I mean.”
A drop of blood escaped the tubing and clung to the corner of his mouth. “I can do casual just fine, but there’d be nothing casual about getting involved with her. She’s too intense. I can’t ever do that again.”
I gestured at his face, grateful when he wiped the blood away. “You’ve done intense with a mortal before?” Normally I didn’t ask too many direct questions about his past, content to let him tell me what he wanted, when he wanted. This time I felt not only would it satisfy my curiosity, it might give him some clarity if he talked things out.
It didn’t work. He shook his head. “Not taking the bait. But yeah, I’m sure about Shelby. No good can come of getting involved with her. She needs a nice boy who can take her out in the daylight.”
“What about you, Bubba? What do you need?”
I wanted to see him happy. Mostly he was pretty happy, around bouts of melancholy he dealt with by drinking too much. Booze, that is. I didn’t consider myself a romantic person but I guess there was some of that in me because I wanted to see him find love. Then I thought about the scrambled mess of my own love life and decided maybe booze wasn’t such a bad answer, after all. My boyfriend was hundreds of miles away and not talking to me, what the hell did I know?
He finished the blood and tossed the bag into the garbage can. “Someone who can stay in the dark with me. You smell like cologne your boyfriend don’t wear. What’s up?”
I blanched. Two brief hugs, one in greeting, the other in goodbye, was enough to drape me in the scent of Ray’s aftershave? Sometimes vampire senses were too much. “It’s aftershave, not cologne. And he’s just a friend.” I gave Daniel the rundown on the dead girl haunting my hometown.
“She’s haunting the whole town?” Excitement colored his voice and pushed the last of the red out of his aura. “Fucking awesome. You should have her go give your parents a good scare.”
Daniel had never met any of the rest of his living descendants but I’d told him plenty. His suggestion was tempting, but only briefly. “Ray wants me to help solve her murder so her ghost can rest. Can I stay at your lake house?”
He eyed his still untouched coffee for a long moment then dumped it in the sink. “He the one you used to call Deputy Hot Pants?”
Shit. I was hoping he wouldn’t remember that. “Uh.”
From a cabinet he produced tequila, twisted off the top and drank straight from the bottle. “I need a change of scene.”
“Uh,” I said, this time with more alarm.
“You know how much I like working with you. Think I’ll go tag along.”
“That might not be the best idea.” My brain scurried to come up with reasons, other than the obvious daylight impediment.
He took another swig of tequila. “It’s perfect, Roxie. I’m running away from a potential relationship, you’re about to cheat with an ex while your current meditates over his dick or whatever the fuck that moron is doing. We’ll work this case and keep each other from going off the deep end.”
“I’m not about to cheat with my ex. Don’t be ridiculous.”
Daniel Rambin had the best bitch please face I’ve ever seen and he gave it to me then. “Do we have to have the talk about vampire senses again?”
I stared at him blankly, not sure what he meant.
He said, “Let me put this delicately. Deputy Hot Pants turns you on. Are you hearing me, girlfriend?”
Mortification swept through me, followed by a desire to bury myself in a deep hole. “That’s not…no. No to the tenth power, Bubba.”
Okay, so, yes, Ray Travis was still the most handsome, appealing man I’d ever met, the thought of which made me feel deeply disloyal and ashamed. But it’s not like I planned to do anything about that. I had a boyfriend I loved and Ray had surely gotten over me years ago.
Daniel held out the bottle. I shook my head. He said, “Good cause he’s prolly as big an asshole as your current. You have deplorable taste in men. Come back tomorrow night and we’ll head on out to the lake house. Right now I need to clean my parlor and get drunk. Drunk as a vampire can get, anyway.” He walked away, the bottle a security blanket clutched tightly in one hand.
If I concentrated on the case, added in the mess my love life had become, and threw in a little worry about my supernatural assistant Stack, I could almost forget my terror at the thought of going home.
Mm. No, that wasn’t enough. I decided I better add the mess of Daniel’s love life to my list of things to preoccupy my thoughts.
Chapter 9
The lake house needed a thorough cleaning and an influx of groceries. Daniel and I let a few rounds of rock-paper-scissors decide who did what. He got the cleaning, I got the supply run. I told myself it was for the best since he didn’t really know the town well, mostly just the area around the lake. I left him running the vacuum and drove into town.
At nearly ten o’clock the streets were pretty much deserted. That wasn’t new. Blythe always rolled up the sidewalks early, especially on weeknights like this one. Streetlights illuminated plenty of familiar sights. Not much had changed. Some places had gone out of business. The neighborhood where I lived in my first tiny apartment looked pretty rundown in the dark. The downtown square had a lot of new paint and sprucing up.
I avoided my parents’ neighborhood. That would come soon enough. There were a few other places I avoided that I knew I’d have to face if I was going to be in town any length of time. Finally the Eric Clapton CD in the stereo ran out and I quit meandering around. I had a shopping list of stuff to acquire.
Walmart was the only thing left open at this hour. Hipsters can bitch all they want about shopping local and big corporations are evil and whatever the hell else, but it was damned convenient to be able to find what I needed quickly and get the hell out of the store before being recognized by one of my least-favorite mean girls from high school. As I loaded the car I made a mental note to not go out again unless I was fully made up and wearing jeans that complimented my curves. A little cleavage would make for good armor too, and a nice “fuck you” to certain people.
Coming home was starting to feel like a bad idea.
A patrol car circled the lot. I watched it as I returned the shopping cart to the buggy corral. It was a county sheriff’s vehicle but I couldn’t tell who was driving. As I climbed into the SUV the patrol car got close enough for me to see. It wasn’t Ray. Deflated, I turned on the ignition, the heat, and the stereo, and drove back to the lake house.
Daniel helped me unload the groceries he wouldn’t be eating. “Have you thought of a cover story?”
Shit. No, I hadn’t and I’d be needing one. For that matter, so would Ray if we were going to investigate Britney Parker’s murder on the down low. “I would claim a nostalgic trip home but no one would believe me.”
“Three boxes of toaster pastries? I haven’t had a meal in over a century and I know better than to eat this shit.”
“Do I judge your nutritional choices?” I grabbed the boxes and shoved them in the cabinet.
He raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Point taken. Want to hear the awesome cover story I thought up?”
“Oh God. I don’t know, do I?”
“We’ll tell people you’re working for me.”
I finished stowing the last of the cold stuff and shut the fridge. “In what capacity?”
“Research assistant.”
“Bubba.”
“Hold on, this is good. We’ll tell folks I’m turning my blog i
nto a book and you’re my research assistant, and we came here because of the rumors about the new local ghost.”
Daniel’s blog was equally divided between talking about food he couldn’t eat and Southern ghost stories and supernatural lore, with the odd bit about country music thrown in every now and then. He’d been updating only sporadically of late, something I attributed to his secret late nights with Shelby.
“There are rumors about the ghost? I mean, really, can we say that?”
He grinned, the tip of one fang showing. “After what I posted on a ghost hunting forum last night under an anonymous account, you bet we can.”
I blew my breath out. I could almost see this working and that scared me. “Why don’t you go out in the day? How do we handle that one?”
“We’ll tell people I’m a night owl. Writers are eccentric. Hell, downright flaky. It’ll work.”
“It might.”
“It would also explain you bringing me half a liquor store tomorrow.”
“I thought you packed several bottles.” As well as a cooler full of blood bags.
“I’m a man going through heartbreak and an existential crisis. There will be booze, Roxanne. There will be a lot of booze. Did you get batteries for the remote? I want to watch Food Network.”
I found the batteries and tossed them. He caught them with an easy grace and made his way to the living room.
Research assistant to a drunk blogger trying to write a book about a local ghost. With a sigh I thanked the gods I still had a cute ass because that was not exactly returning home covered in glory.
* * *
The morning greeted me with a splitting headache from staying up too late watching TV with Daniel, and an email from Blake.
Dear Roxie,
The seminar starts next week and preparations are going well. In addition to that I’ve joined a morning yoga class that focuses on chakra work. Every time the instructor talks about chakra colors I think of you. I miss you, miss the sound of your voice and the feel of your skin. Your hair in my face when we lie in bed. I miss you but I still think this is necessary. I am enjoying being here. It’s a good environment for me. Graham and I were talking about the teaching being a means of grounding for me and I think he’s right. I’m good at it and I need it too. I’m finding the structure of this setting is good for me too. That may surprise you but I promise, no one is more surprised than me.
I’ve been researching banishing rites. I hope to have something useful soon.
I love you,
Blake
He missed me but he was happy where he was, hundreds of miles away and without me. I didn’t know what to do with that. Was I supposed to be glad he was happy hiding away in some hippie witchcraft school?
Blake could research banishing rites all he wanted. It wouldn’t change anything regarding Stack.
I closed the browser, not sure how to respond to Blake’s email. He didn’t even know I wasn’t in Nashville, or why. Later in the day I needed to write him back and tell him what was going on. Tell him I missed him too because I did. Ignore the part about the banishing rites. Right now, though, I needed coffee.
Daniel had his room well sealed off from the day so I didn’t worry about waking him. My first order of business had to be getting in touch with Ray. We needed to figure out a game plan. I had an idea for something that, if successful, might have me back in Nashville by this time tomorrow. Naturally I figured that wouldn’t work at all, so I might as well have a backup plan ready to go.
A groggy Ray answered just before I was about to give up. “I understand you have a giant man made of marshmallow terrorizing the streets of your fair town?”
The sound of things colliding, probably a lamp and an alarm clock, was followed by him swearing under his breath. He said, “You bring the chocolate, I’ll bring the graham crackers. We’ll toast the fluffy bitch.” He coughed, voice rough from lack of sleep.
I laughed at our old joke, delighted he’d remembered. “You got me here, Ray. What are you gonna do with me?” It came out more flirtatious than I meant.
There was a long pause. My imagination and memories filled in the details. The uptick of his lips, the dancing light in his blue eyes, strong hands reaching for me as he relaxed into the strange level of comfort we’d found with each other. But then he surprised me and kept it on a friendly wavelength. “I thought we could go over the case files I’ve got. And if you don’t mind I’d appreciate it if you’d do your sage blessing here. I don’t think she means to hurt me but I’d rather not have a ghost in my house.”
“Just tell me when and where.” I was almost grateful he hadn’t flirted back. Almost. Old habits really did die hard, I guess, and teasing Ray had been one of my favorite things to do once upon a time. But that was years ago and I needed to be mindful of how things stood now.
“You know where. I live in the same house. I’m working weird hours today. Spent half the night on site at a meth lab bust. I’ll be free at six.”
That left me with all day to obsess over being back in my hometown. I hated the idea because I knew I’d do something stupid. Doing something stupid was practically in my DNA, a fact for which I blamed my sleeping vampire ancestor. Cheerlessly I agreed. He rang off, saying he needed a little more sleep before going in to the sheriff’s department.
There was a whole long list of stupid things I could do but I decided, why pussyfoot around? So I did the stupidest thing I could think of and went to see my mother.
Chapter 10
Nadine Mathis had worked as a secretary at City Hall since before I was born. She rarely missed a day’s work, typed eighty words a minute, and knew everyone in the county worth knowing. That’s how she used to put it to me, and it always rankled. Money and power didn’t make a person worth knowing any more than defying conformity made a person suspect, but these were some of the central tenets by which Nadine lived her life. Some cosmic accident of birth made me her daughter, a joke neither one of us thought was funny. At least we had that much in common.
Just popping by to see her at the office was not something I’d ever done. Had in fact been told expressly to never do. This was likely to be my one chance at the upper hand with her so I took it. I stood in line at the front desk waiting my turn to speak to the primary gatekeeper when Nadine appeared around the corner of the drab gray cubicles. I stared, marveling at how little she had changed, now in her late fifties. Frosted hair teased into a helmet, she still favored eye-bleeding print blouses paired over mercifully black slacks. Spangled accessories and shoes looked like they were pilfered from the Golden Girls set. Good lawd, she even still wore the same blue eye shadow and screaming pink lipstick.
My worn jeans, White Stripes t-shirt, second hand leather jacket, and patched messenger bag would appall her, as would my loose unstyled hair and minimal makeup. But then pretty much everything about me appalled her, so I didn’t sweat it.
She stood in the hall clutching a file folder and talking animatedly to some portly middle-aged man. Animatedly being a kind way to put it. Nadine was loud, a good ol’ girl who craved attention and approval. But only the right kind of attention, and approval from those people deemed worth knowing. I shook my head and tried to dispel the ugly thoughts. She was my mother. I had to respect her for at least that much.
I stepped out of line and toward the barrier separating the lobby from the cubicles. She glanced my way, looked back at the man speaking to her then looked back at me again. This time recognition dawned. For a brief flicker I saw the old panic in her flinty eyes, the metallic yellow of her aura flashing like a solar flare before she put a lid on her feelings.
“Hello, Mother.” We’d never had the kind of rapport that invited calling her momma.
“Roxanne,” she said as if she couldn’t quite believe it. “This is a surprise.”
“I’m in town for a day or two. Thought I’d stop by and say hello.”
Curious gazes followed our exchange. I ignored them, focusing on Nadine
. The man she’d been talking to excused himself, nodding a greeting to me as he left. I nodded back, throwing in a little smile. For the first time I wondered, seriously wondered, what people thought of me after all these years. Freak, witch, weirdo, Satan-worshipping heavy-metal listening slut, and those were just the insults I could remember right off the top of my head. Heavy metal had never been my thing, I didn’t believe in Satan, and respectable Deputy Ray Travis was the only man in Blythe ever able to entice my inner slut. Well, okay, a couple of guys in high school, but they hardly counted.
She said, “You’ll have to come by the house and catch up. You still living in a trailer or are you back in a real house now?”
Bitch. I sighed inwardly. She couldn’t help herself and I had long ago decided to try to be the better person. “Still working on a down payment to start rebuilding. The FEMA money’s in the bank but it’s not enough.” Just to remind all the eavesdroppers about the flood that took my home.
Nadine blanched and I immediately realized my mistake. She thought I was here for money. I said, “I’ve got a job in town so I’ll be busy but I’ll be sure to make time to stop by.” That was as close as I could get to exclaiming, relax, I don’t want your money.
The deep line between her eyes smoothed out. “What sort of work are you doing?”
“Research assistant for a writer.”
She raised a heavily penciled eyebrow. “Oh? What sort of research would a writer have you be doing?”
I really, really, really wanted to say something along the lines of trying out sex toys, but I didn’t. “He’s got a blog about Southern ghost stories and supernatural legends. I’m helping him do some research so he can turn it into a book.”
“A blog?” She looked mystified.
