Even Vampires Get the Blues: A Deadly Angels Book

by Sandra Hill

  When they were both sated and still lying on the floor with several tasseled pillows from the sofa under their heads, she said, “I still want to continue being in WEALS. Will that be a problem?”

  “It doesn’t have to be.”

  “Where will we live?”

  “Wherever you want, but I have this idea . . . well, I haven’t thought it through totally . . . but what would you think about our home base being a Caribbean island?”

  “Holy moly!”

  “Don’t get your hopes up, it’s a small island, and if I build what I’m thinking of there, it wouldn’t be as private as it has been.”

  “Now you have me intrigued.”

  “You weren’t intrigued before?”

  She slapped him playfully on the chest.

  “We vangels—all of God’s helpers, for that matter, whether they be celestial ones, like angels, or human ones, like priests—need to be brought into the twenty-first century. And I’m not just referring to computers, but that’s a big part of it. The changes in the past twenty years alone have altered the world forever. No longer is a vangel’s work just carrying a sword and bludgeoning a Lucipire through the heart. We need to be able to develop computer programs for tracking Lucies and evil people, like terrorists. We need databases of where we’ve been and where we need to go. There is so much more we can do with the aid of technology. But that means education.”

  He took a deep breath.

  “And?”

  “I was thinking about enlarging the building on my island. In fact, putting up several buildings. A computer teaching school as well as a computer database center, command central, so to speak. A lodge for housing vangels. Perhaps some gardens and orchards to be self-sustaining. Believe me, there’s enough fish to feed an army. The island isn’t very big. I think the beach and some of the wooded area could be preserved, but not much else with all those structures.”

  “That sounds like an expensive project,” Camille remarked, liking his ideas, but wondering if they could be done. “Can you afford all that?”

  Harek grinned. “Have you ever heard of Michelangelo?”

  Epilogue

  The blue vampire was no longer blue . . .

  They were married two weeks later at Heaven’s End plantation. There had to be some irony in that.

  It was a rushed affair because Harek kept fearing that Michael would pull the rug out from under them for engaging in sex before marriage. Lots of sex before marriage.

  “We could always go celibate until the wedding,” Camille had suggested.

  “Bite your tongue, woman,” Harek had said. “Better yet, let me.”

  Camille’s mother almost had a heart attack when she learned her only daughter was getting married in a heated rush. In a run-down plantation once owned by their despicable ancestor? Was she pregnant? No? Why so soon then? Didn’t she want a big lavish church wedding? Actually, no.

  In the end, it was only her parents, Alain and Inez, and a few cousins and great-aunts who lived in the region. On Harek’s side, there were his brothers; the spouses of those who had wives; Karl Mortensen, who was still healing but getting better, along with his wife, Faith; and a vangel named Armod who had a fixation on Michael Jackson as evidenced by his attire and constant moon dancing. Only a few of the Coronado contingent had been invited, including Cage and his wife, Emelie, who lived in New Orleans. And Marie and Bobby Jo, who served as her maid of honor and bridesmaid, respectively. There were also Tante Lulu’s bayou family members, headed by the irrepressible old lady, who declared on hearing the news of the impending wedding, “I tol’ ’em the thunderbolt was a-comin’.”

  “This is a disaster waiting to happen,” Harek kept saying as the guest list grew larger and larger. “We have to keep our vangelness a secret.”

  “Then keep your fangs in your mouth. We are not eloping to Las Vegas.”

  The ceremony was performed under an outdoor tent by a priest wearing a pure white cassock with a gold cord belt and a gold crucifix hanging from his neck. Afterward the priest was seen to be conversing intensely with Tante Lulu, something about her favorite saint, St. Jude.

  Ivak had hired a band of ex-cons from Angola to play for them. They were really good, playing all kinds of music, including Camille’s favorite blues songs. People were dancing on the flagstones of the side garden. A little uneven on the high heels, but no one seemed to mind.

  The men were wearing tuxes. Camille wore a long, cream-colored gown similar to the Pippa Middleton one she’d worn at Alain’s wedding. Harek made a point of telling her he liked the back view, more than once.

  When the afternoon was winding down, Michael, who surprised everyone by staying around, walked up to the microphone and said, “I understand the Sigurdsson men do a special dance in my honor.”

  There was a lot of groaning that followed as seven sets of Sigurdsson eyes turned to see who had told. Tante Lulu—who was hot to trot that day, by the way, in a red suit, red hat, and red wedgie shoes, with blue—yes, blue—hair—gave a little wave.

  The band began to play that Aretha Franklin song “Chains, Chains, Chains,” and the seven studly men did the snake-like dance around the patio that was made famous by John Travolta in the movie Michael. After that, Armod demonstrated his dancing expertise to the song “Thriller.” And the LeDeux men from Tante Lulu’s family, not to be outdone, showed a proficiency in the Cajun two-step with their women to wild zydeco music.

  Michael was heard to tell Harek that he was well pleased with his plans for the island. And then he was about to walk off toward the trees where the demon Zebulan was watching the festivities with a sad, yearning expression on his handsome face.

  “An angel’s work is never done,” Michael remarked.

  “How about a demon vampire’s work?” Harek asked.

  “Doubly so. I’m thinking about giving vangels tails, by the by, so they can stop attracting females.”

  You could have heard a pin drop at Heaven’s End then.

  “Just kidding,” Michael said. Angels sometimes had a warped sense of humor.

  At the end of the day, Harek gave Camille a big box of chocolates. She gave him a book of philosophy called Snoopyisms. They gave each other additional gifts that night in the bridal suite of the Royal Hotel in New Orleans. Camille killed all her ghosts that day.

  The hotel staff forever after called it the Chocolate Roses suite. No matter what they did, the scent could not be erased. And, actually, brides and grooms of the future claimed it had an aphrodisiac effect.

  Go figure.

  Reader Letter

  Dear Readers:

  Did you like Harek’s story? This geeky Viking vampire angel has been a favorite of mine for some time now. I hope I did him proud.

  Next up will be Cnut, the last of the Sigurdsson brothers. We don’t know a whole lot about Cnut. He’s the mysterious one, except he’s taken to wearing a braided scalp lock sort of hairdo lately, similar to Ragnar Lothbrok in the History Channel’s Vikings series. Is this a clue to what he’s been up to lately? Hmm? I have something special planned for this bad boy.

  And not to worry about that being the end of the series. I have to write a story about the tormented Lucipire (demon vampire) Zebulan who is hoping to change teams, as in become a Viking vampire angel. A seemingly impossible dream. Remember, though, that St. Michael the Archangel can do anything, if he is so inclined, but by now he’s pretty much fed up with the lot of them.

  After that, what’s next? Well, there are still some vangels who could use a story. How about Regina, the witch? Or Armod, the Michael Jackson fan? Not to mention lots of Viking historical romances yet to be told, like Alrek, the clumsy Viking; Tykir’s other sons; the Welsh knight, Wulfgar; Jamie, the Scots Viking; and so on. There are so many choices! And don’t forget the Cajun twins from Alaska, Dr. Daniel LeDeux and pilot Aaron LeDeux.

  I can’t tell you how much I appreciate all of you loyal fans who have followed me through these various genres. You
are a blessing. These past two years have been difficult for me personally with the medical crises in our household, but your letters uplift me. Don’t ever stop.

  For more information about my books, check out my website at www.sandrahill.net or my Facebook page at Sandra Hill Author. As always, I wish you smiles in your reading.

  Sandra Hill

  Glossary

  AFSOP—Air Force Special Operations.

  A-Viking—A Norse practice of sailing away to other countries for the purpose of looting, settlement, or mere adventure, could be for a period of several months or years at a time.

  Balaclava—A knitted cap that covers the head, neck, and most of the face.

  Boko Haram—A militant Islamic terrorist organization based in northeast Nigeria, responsible for many deaths and kidnappings; its purpose is to institute Sharia, or Islamic law, including the ban on all Western education.

  Boondockers—Heavy boots.

  Braies—Slim pants worn by men.

  BUD/S—Basic Underwater Demolition SEALs.

  Ceorl—Free peasant, person of the lowest classes.

  Cher—Dear in Cajun (male), comparable to friend.

  Chère—Dear in Cajun (female).

  Chéríe—French term of endearment meaning dear or darling.

  Concubine—Mistress.

  Coppergate—A busy, prosperous section of tenth-century York (known as Jorvik or Eoforwic) where merchants and craftsmen set up their stalls for trading.

  Drownproofing—A Navy SEAL exercise that involves having the feet bound together and hands tied behind the back, then thrown into deep water.

  Drukkinn (various spellings)—Drunk.

  Fibbies—FBI.

  Fjord—Narrow arm of the seas, often between high cliffs.

  Frankland/Frankish—Early name for France.

  Grinder—Asphalt training ground in the middle of the SEAL compound in Coronado.

  Gunna—Long-sleeved, ankle-length gown for women, often worn under a tunic or surcoat, or under a long, open-sided apron.

  Haakai—High-level demon.

  Hedeby—Viking-age market town where Germany now stands.

  Hersir—Viking military commander.

  High and tight—Military haircut.

  Hird/hirdsman—A permanent troop that a chieftain or nobleman might have.

  Hordlings—Lower-level demons.

  Housecarls—Troops assigned to a king’s or lord’s household on a longtime, sometimes permanent basis.

  Imps—Lowest-level demons, foot soldiers, so to speak.

  Jihad—Religious duty or holy war.

  Jorvik—Viking-age York, known to the Saxons as Eoforwic.

  JSOC—Joint Special Operations Command.

  KA-BAR—Type of knife favored by SEALS.

  Kaupang—A Viking-age market town, one of the first towns in Norway.

  Keffiyeh—Checkered scarf worn about the head and neck, usually by Arabs.

  Knarr—A Viking merchant vessel, wider and deeper than a regular longship.

  Kudzu—Seriously invasive plant growing wild in the United States.

  Longships—Narrow, open watergoing vessels with oars and square sails, perfected by Viking shipbuilders, noted for their speed and ability to ride in both shallow waters and deep oceans.

  Lucifer/Satan—The fallen angel Lucifer who became known as the demon Satan.

  LZ—Landing zone.

  Mace—A weapon with a heavy heal on the end of a handle or chain.

  Mancus—A unit of measurement or coin equal roughly to 4.5 grams of gold or thirty silver pence, also equal of one month’s wages for a skilled worker in medieval times.

  Martian—Alien.

  Mead—Fermented honey and water.

  Mung—Type of demon, below the haakai in status, often very large and oozing slime and mung.

  Muslim—Follower of a religion based on the Koran with the belief that the word of God was revealed through the prophet Mohammed.

  Muspell—Part of Nifhelm, one of the nine worlds in the Norse afterlife, known by its fires guarded by Sert and his flaming sword.

  Nithing—A Norse insult meaning that a person is less than nothing.

  Norselands—Early term referring not just to Norway but all the Scandinavian countries as a whole.

  Norsemandy—Normandy.

  Northumbria—One of the Anglo-Saxon kingdoms, bordered by the English kingdoms to the south and in the north and northwest by the Scots, Cumbrians, and Strathclyde Welsh.

  O-course—Grueling obstacle course on the training compound, also known as the Oh-my-God course.

  Odin—King of all the Viking gods.

  OUTCONUS—Outside the continental United States.

  Parure—Set of jewelry intended to be worn together, such as earrings, necklace, bracelet, and brooch.

  Pattern-welding—Method of making a sword by forging several different metals together to form a pattern.

  Plaçage—White/Creole men of New Orleans often had two families, one legal and the other to women of color, known as left-handed marriages; the system that often involved contracts, cash settlements, homes, etc. was known as plaçage.

  Placée—Women of color who entered into plaçage arrangements.

  Po-boy—Type of Louisiana submarine sandwich served on a baguette.

  Quadroon—Person of one-fourth black ancestry, offspring of a white and a mulatto (offspring of a white and a black).

  Sagas—Oral history of the Norse people, passed on from ancient times.

  SEAL—Sea, Air, and Land.

  Sennight—One week.

  Sharia Law—Very strict law regarding Muslim behavior, especially restrictive toward women.

  Skald—Poet.

  Sugar cookies—Type of SEAL exercise that involves wetting body in ocean, rolling in sand, and then engaging in strenuous exercise.

  Swabbies—Sailors.

  Tangos—Terrorists, bad guys.

  Teletransport—Transfer of matter from one point to another without traversing physical space.

  Thralls—Slaves.

  Torque—A collar-like necklace, usually of twisted bands of metal.

  Trident—The pin earned by SEALs after completing BUD/S training, nicknamed the “Budweiser” because it is rather garish, containing an anchor, a trident, a pistol, and an eagle.

  Vangels—Viking vampire angels.

  VIK—The seven Sigurdsson brothers who head the vangels.

  WEALS—Women on Earth, Air, Land, and Sea.

  Wergild—A man’s worth offered in payment.

  Zydeco—Type of Cajun music.

  Don’t miss the next

  DEADLY ANGELS

  book by New York Times bestselling author

  SANDRA HILL

  The Angel Wore Fangs

  Coming May 2016

  Prologue

  Weight Watchers, where art thou? . . .

  Cnut Sigurdsson was a big man. A really big man! He was taller than the average man, of course, being a Norseman, but more than that, he was . . . well . . . truth to tell . . . fat.

  Obesity was a highly unusual condition for Men of the North, Cnut had to admit, because Vikings were normally vain of appearance, sometimes to a ridiculous extent. Long hair, combed to a high sheen. Braided beards. Clean teeth. Gold and silver arm rings to show off muscles. Tight braies delineating buttocks and ballocks.

  But not him.

  Cnut did not care.

  Even now, when three of his six brothers, who’d come (uninvited, by the by) to his Frigg’s Day feast here at Hoggstead in the Norselands, were having great fun making jests about just that.

  The lackwits!

  Cnut cared not one whit what they said.

  Not even when Trond made oinking noises, as if Cnut’s estate were named for a porcine animal when he knew good and well it was the name of the original owner decades ago, Bjorn Hoggson. Besides, Trond had no room to make mock of others when he was known to be the laziest Viking to ever ride a longship. Some said he
did not even have the energy to lift his cock for pissing, that he sat like a wench on the privy hole. That was probably not true, but it made a good story.

  Nor did Cnut bother to rise and clout his eldest brother Vikar when he asked the skald to make a rhyme of Cnut’s name:

  Cnut is a brute

  And a glutton, of some repute.

  He is so fat that, when he goes a-Viking for loot,

  He can scarce lift a bow with an arrow to shoot.

  But, when it comes to woman-pursuit,

  None can refute

  That Cnut can “salute” with the best of them.

  Thus and therefore, let it be known

  And this is a truth absolute,

  Size matters.

  “Ha, ha, ha!” Cnut commented, while everyone in the great hall howled with laughter, and Vikar was bent over, gasping with mirth.

  Cnut did not care, especially since Vikar was known to be such a prideful man he fair reeked of self-love. At least the skald had not told the poem about how, if Cnut spelled his name with a slight exchange of letters, he would be a vulgar woman-part. That was one joke Cnut did not appreciate.

  But mockery was a game to Norsemen. And, alas and alak, Cnut was often the butt of the jests.

  He. Did. Not. Care.

  Yea, some said he resembled a walking tree with a massive trunk, limbs like hairy battering rams, and fingers so chubby he could scarce make a fist. Even his face was bloated, surrounded by a mass of wild, tangled hair on head and beard, which was dark blond, though its color was indiscernible most times since it was usually greasy and teeming with lice. Unlike most Vikings, he rarely bathed. In his defense, what tub would hold him? And the water in the fjords was frigid except for summer months. What man in his right mind wanted to turn his cock into an icicle?

  A disgrace to the ideal of handsome, virile Vikinghood, he overheard some fellow jarls say about him on more than one occasion.

  And as for his brother Harek, who considered himself smarter than the average Viking, Cnut glared his way and spoke loud enough for all to hear, “Methinks your first wife Dagne has put on a bit of blubber herself in recent years. Last time I saw her in Kaupang, she was as wide as she was tall. In fact, she waddled when she walked. Quack, quack. Now, there is something to make mock of!”