by R. E. Carr
19
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Paige muttered to herself. She held onto the railing of the chain discount hotel that Kayleigh and Steve had miraculously paid for in the middle of interstate I-85, Nowheresville. The late afternoon heat had driven the others into the air conditioning, but Paige remained content to keep to herself on the landing, enjoying the occasional breeze breaking through the stagnant air. Her damp curls stuck to her forehead and neck.
She watched a couple struggling with a car seat in the parking lot. Her stomach balled into a knot and she grabbed tighter onto the railing, easing up as she heard the rusted bolts creak in the concrete. She did, however, smile as she felt a slight twitch along one pant leg. “Baby steps,” she whispered as she rubbed the scar on her back.
Her moment of calm ended as the door to room 205 opened. Paige stiffened a little as Georgia wandered out onto the balcony and immediately blushed pink. The Boston girl wiped sweat from her brow and let out a “Damn!” as she felt the humidity drape over her skin.
Paige continued to gaze out over the parking lot. Georgia leaned over the rail and stared at a particularly hideous chartreuse car from the nineties. After a few silent minutes of taking in their surroundings, Paige finally asked, “How is your shoulder?”
“Hurts like a bitch, but I’ll live,” Georgia replied grumpily. “Kyle says that I heal like a movie heroine.”
“So, um, how is Great-Grandpa . . . err . . . how is Steve?” Paige followed up.
“About as well as can be expected. I’ve come to the conclusion that all vampires are slightly neurotic,” Georgia said, still staring off into space. “He swears he can feel Arthur crawling around under his skin. He hasn’t shut up about it for the last half hour.”
“Does he still . . . you know . . . have that little problem?” Paige asked.
“Yup,” Georgia replied flatly. “So, how is that carry-on you married?”
Paige and Georgia finally dared face each other. Paige tried to snarl, but her fearsome noise quickly disintegrated into a giggle-snort. Georgia joined in. Soon both women were howling with laughter, until Georgia grabbed her bandaged shoulder and begged for mercy.
“You’re married to an impotent vampire, and I have a duffel bag,” Paige sighed once she finally calmed down. “I just hope you aren’t carrying god-knows-what kind of demon spawn this is in your belly too.”
“Thank heavens for small miracles,” Georgia quipped. Her face grew slightly more serious. “Yeah, that was bad phrasing.”
“I think word choice is the least of our worries right now,” Paige said. “Were you able to check on my mom?”
Georgia nodded. “She just took a bump on the head and mercifully the bullet only grazed her. She also didn’t freak out when Kyle checked up on her, so I guess whatever sort of compulsion Arthur gave her is starting to fade now. You could probably go in—”
“Yeah, I will,” Paige conceded. “I just have a lot of questions to answer, and I’m not sure if I’m ready yet.”
“Yeah,” Georgia said, now leaning against one of the stucco columns between sections of balcony. “You know, I used to hate when my dad went out for smoke breaks. He always said it was his thinking time. I’m starting to understand more and more why he did it.”
“You’re gonna melt if you stay out here, Yankee,” Paige warned.
“Hey, Yankee is a dirty word where I come from,” Georgia said, smiling again. “This is crazy isn’t it?”
“Yeah, just a little bit.”
“So . . . what are we gonna do about it?” Georgia asked.
Paige furrowed her brows. “Do? Do you have any idea how completely, utterly screwed we are?” she asked. “Arthur didn’t just beat us, he humiliated us all, and we had ancient bloodsuckers on our side. Ugh, and Morgan? Seriously, what was he thinking?”
“He probably wasn’t,” Georgia said. “I think it’s a family trait.”
“And you? You jumped in front of a bullet while I just stood there, helpless,” Paige said, now once more entranced with the horizon. “I was useless, so really, don’t ask me what to do right now, OK?”
“Well . . . when you put it that way,” Georgia mused. “I got the impression that everyone looks up to you.”
“It’s a werewolf thing,” Paige muttered.
“Is it true you have a . . . tail?” Georgia asked hesitantly. “I mean, Steve is known for some real whoppers but—”
“Yes, I have a tail,” Paige sighed. “Seriously, you didn’t notice it when I was walking around at the villa?”
“Holy Hannah!” Georgia said, genuinely surprised. “I thought for sure he was pulling my leg, and sorry, I was a little preoccupied back in Italy. Wait - do all werewolves have tails?”
“No,” Paige huffed, now up to an eye roll. “It’s ridiculous, just like everything else about my life right now. It’s supposed to be some werewolf status symbol, but to me it’s a pain in the ass, literally. Yes, no matter what I say or do, it’s always the damn tail that people talk about. No, your brother doesn’t have a tail, even when he changes . . . before you even ask. Yes, it does hurt when I sit on it wrong; and yes, I use Mane and Tail shampoo. Did I head off all the questions at the pass?”
“So, what you’re saying is that it’s a touchy subject?” Georgia deadpanned. “Least you’re angry now. It’s better than mopey.”
“I was not . . . that mopey.”
Paige gave a side glance to the unfazed Georgia. The taller girl flipped her blue fauxhawk to one side and stretched her good arm, as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Paige let out a deep sigh and asked, “Aren’t you upset?”
Georgia shrugged, then winced.
“Seriously?” Paige asked again.
“My werewolf brother has been kidnapped by the evil vampire king who took over the love of my life, and I’m now stuck married to your vampire great-grandpa – who is arguably the single most annoying man I’ve ever met,” Georgia said, now staring off into space again. “I should probably be curled up in a bottle somewhere, but that won’t help, will it? I’ve come to the realization that my entire life is ridiculousness, layered upon insanity, wrapped up with preposterous angst . . . and I’ve kinda accepted it. If I don’t, then I’ll just go crazy.”
“Maybe you are already crazy,” Paige said softly. “Maybe we all are. How can you possibly . . .?”
“Arthur could have killed me easily, but he stopped himself,” Georgia said, the slightest break in her voice. “Ren is still alive, deep inside, and he hasn’t forgotten me. That is what I’m holding onto.”
“What, do you really think you’re going to defeat a mind-controlling vampire with the power of love?” Paige scoffed.
“No, I think that your ginger buddy tapped into a vampire library full of thousands of years of history and science,” Georgia replied. “I think that Merlin, with all his scheming and planning, probably hid some sort of backdoor way to defeat his crazy creation - because it seems like just the sort of asshole thing he would do - and I have faith that you and a whole pack of werewolves are gonna find a way to save Lorcan, so we can stop Arthur if he can’t be saved. I’m in love . . . but I’m not an idiot.”
“Maybe I should ask you what to do,” Paige said, burying her face in her hands.
“I’m good at reacting, not planning shit,” Georgia said softly. “But if you want my advice, start with one little decision. Maybe you can figure out what to get for dinner. I bet your mom is starving after a near-death experience and international travel.”
“One little decision, huh?” Paige asked skeptically.
“Yeah, one little decision gets you moving. You do one little thing; then another, and another, and soon it’s not so bad. Anyway, I need to find a bag of blood in rural Virginia now, so I’d better get cracking,” Georgia sighed as she took a step back toward her room. “Somehow, I doubt there is an Asian market, but you never can tell.”
“Can’t Steve just . . . you know?”
> Georgia gave a pained smile and a little “hee-hee” noise. “He just needs a little time.” She grimaced before slipping into her room.
Paige took a deep breath and padded her way toward the corner suite where they had stashed the other DeMarco. As she passed room 205 she could hear some exasperated arguing between Georgia and Steve.
“Oh, just suck it up, you vampire sissy,” Paige could just hear, as she tried her best to hustle past them.
She took her time, summoning the courage to knock. Finally, she straightened her clothes, finger-combed her curls, and rapped on the door. “Mom?” she asked weakly.
The door opened a few moments later. Maria DeMarco looked a bit thinner and older, as she leaned on the door jamb - her face pale and without makeup. She wore an old T-shirt and jeans that were several sizes too big, and still had gauze taped to her forehead. The moment she saw Paige, her eyes welled up and she immediately leaned in for a hug.
“We have a lot to talk about,” Paige said, putting on her best smile. “You wanna get some dinner?”
Soon both DeMarco women were perched on the bed, trying to decide between pizza and truck stop barbecue. Once that matter was settled, Paige took her mom’s hand and gave it a squeeze.
“Are you feeling, you know, better?” Paige asked.
Maria pursed her lips. “I know, deep in my heart, that Steve would never hurt me, but I still have these terrible images in my head, and it’s really hard to sleep. I don’t feel so panicked when I see you guys. I just feel sick. Baby, I am so sorry. I almost—”
“Oh, Mom,” Paige whimpered, hugging Maria. “I couldn’t do anything either, and it all hit me. I saw the gun, and I thought I was gonna lose you. I wasn’t ready. I can’t lose you, Mom.”
Paige finally let the tears flow. Maria held onto her as tightly as she could. They both let out a few solid sobs before Maria pulled away and wiped her daughter’s face. “I’m OK, baby. I’m still here.”
“Well good, because I’d hate for you to miss being a grandma,” Paige blurted out.
“Oh, baby,” Maria said as fresh tears flowed. “Really?”
Paige nodded quickly. They enjoyed a few more blissful minutes hugging until Maria dared to note, “But you’re a . . . um . . .”
“Werewolf, and um, I’m pretty sure that makes this a grandbaby wolf,” Paige said. “I mean there are no guarantees, because of what I am. It’s apparently pretty risky, and I know we have vampires after us—”
Maria silenced Paige with another huge hug. “We’ll figure it out, baby. One thing at a time, right?”
“That’s the second time I’ve heard that today,” Paige murmured. “Maybe I should listen.”
“Maybe you should.”
They spent their time waiting for the pizza to arrive by catching up on the insanity that had happened since Paige arrived in Italy. By the time Paige had devoured her first slice of meat-lovers, Maria hesitated, then asked, “Do you know what happened to Pablo?”
Paige shook her head sadly. “Arthur said something about welcoming loyal staff back or something like that, but no specifics. I don’t think he was . . . I mean there were a lot of bullets flying around, but it seemed like it was only vampires that were killed. I don’t think that Arthur would really care enough to kill everyone. I guess you and Pablo were, um, together?”
Maria looked away. A slight blush crept across her cheeks.
“Mom, I’m happy for you,” Paige said quickly. “I mean, how many daughters can claim their mom is actually cool enough to have run off with a pool boy? I’m sorry we didn’t think to rescue him too, and I promise we’ll find a way to, I dunno, get him back.”
“It’s more important that you’re safe, Paige,” Maria said. “I’ll be OK, and Pablo is from a long line of vampire servants. I’m sure he’ll land on his feet.”
They ate in awkward silence for a while. Paige waited with bated breath as Maria recounted their earlier conversation.
“You never mentioned what happened to Morgan, or to Lorcan,” Maria said, staring right at her daughter. “Why does that scare me?”
“Morgan may have given himself over to Arthur in exchange for all of us being allowed to escape,” Paige said, gnawing on her lip.
“May have?” Maria asked.
“He drank a bunch of vampire blood and pretended to be Lorcan in a new body, so that Arthur could be led away.”
“Excuse me?” Maria asked. “Did you just say . . . ?”
“Lorcan is in a bag. He might be dead, or he might be in stasis. We can’t really be sure,” Paige blurted out, her verbal diarrhea continuing. “I have no idea how to save either of them, Mom. I’m just winging it right now, while battling horrible cravings and morning sickness like you wouldn’t believe.”
“What do you mean, he’s in a bag?”
“As in, the vampire part of him is stuffed into some plastic in a UV-blocking duffle bag. Apparently, Dr. Pang improvised it from one of those vacuum-sealed clothing things like you see on TV. Wow, that sounds even worse when I say it out loud.”
“You mean . . . literally . . . in a bag,” Maria said, wide-eyed. “I really wish this motel had a mini-bar. Not for you though.”
“Mom—” Paige stopped as there was a bang on the door. “What now?”
“Paige? Ms. DeMarco?” Kyle called from behind the door.
“One day he’s going to get it through his head to call me Maria,” Maria grumbled as she opened the door. Kyle barged in the moment Maria turned the latch. He barely avoided knocking the poor woman into the wall.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he said, as he bounded into the room. “Paige, Ms. DeMarco, you won’t believe it. Kayleigh . . . Kayleigh, she put a keylogger into the vampire’s system and a back door that has been slowly copying all their data as they upload it and transferring it to a cloud server . . .”
“Kyle, you’re redder than normal,” Paige interrupted. “Breathe. We know this.”
“The server was accessed. Toy is out there and she sent us a message,” Kyle said, still racing. “She found help.”
Paige blinked a few times as she took it in. She stared at the eager ginger werewolf. Kyle truly looked like a hopeful puppy as he stared back at her.
“Help, huh?” Paige asked.
“And it’s not even that far away,” Kyle said. They both broke into smiles.
20
“I’ve told you once, and I’ll tell you a million more times if I have to. You are not dying, Steve,” Georgia sighed. “You are just being dramatic.”
“I’m gonna starve and my fangs are gonna fall out,” he whimpered, curling into the fetal position. “This is the start of the osoi-shi. I can feel it. I can feel all the little bugs and beasties crawling around - trying to break free and feast on my insides. I am gonna die in a cheap-ass motel . . . in hideous sweatpants and a damn Red Sox shirt. This is my lot in life.”
“Steve,” Georgia sighed, pushing his mop of curls off his forehead. “You are not dying. The universe takes too much perverse pleasure in torturing me to let me off this easy. You’re not gonna die on our honeymoon. You are just having a psychosomatic problem with your fangs. You’re overthinking this.”
He pouted a little. “I don’t want to live . . . sucking on sippy cups like Mr. Lambley. I don’t want to be some—”
“—Impotent?” Georgia offered with a smile. Steve cringed at the word.
“Helpless vampire that needs a human to take care of him twenty-four-seven,” he finished.
“You mean like you were before, when Ren doted on you night and day? You practically couldn’t tie your shoes without him, Old Man.”
Steve pouted again. He rolled to the other side. Georgia rolled her eyes at his back before slipping out the door. She checked her phone messages, just to make sure the delivery guy was at the front office. A stereotypical country guy in jeans and a wife-beater waited by the front desk, Styrofoam cooler in hand. He eyed Georgia’s blue hair with a touch of suspicion.
“Do you care?” Georgia asked, as he looked at the cash.
“Not really. Pleasure doing business with you, ma’am,” he said, hustling out the door. The girl at the front desk stared, until Georgia finally yanked out one more Benjamin and plopped it on the counter.
“Something wrong?” Georgia asked.
“Nope, nothing at all. Enjoy your stay!” the girl at the desk said chirpily.
Georgia struggled but schlepped the cooler back up the stairs with one arm. Nadia peeked her head onto the landing as Georgia walked by. “We are leaving at dawn,” the purple-haired werewolf said flatly. “Make sure to load the bloodsucker up with sunscreen.”
“And we’re going where?” Georgia asked.
“Nashville,” Nadia said, immediately sliding back into her room.
“Of course,” Georgia said to herself, continuing on her merry way. “When I think vampires, I immediately think of country music.”
She used her knee to prop the cooler, and managed to summon a surprising amount of grace to get into her suite. However, as she took her first step, she managed to trip over her own feet, and plopped unceremoniously onto Steve’s legs. The poor vampire jumped in alarm. His reflexes were just fast enough to grab the cooler before it crashed to the floor, but his shift in position left Georgia in a rather awkward position with her teeth nearly gnashing his drawstring. She yelped as his arm hit her shoulder.
“I hate you, Arthur,” Steve whispered to the heavens, as there was no reaction to Georgia clambering along the length of his body. He then inspected the contents of the cooler – five bags filled to the brim with precious sanguine liquid. “Is that . . .?”
“It is amazing what you can do with two bills and an internet connection,” Georgia said, beaming as she righted herself. “Heritage pig farm about five miles away.”
“You are kinda amazing, Georgia DeMarco,” Steve said.
