Hoofin’ It: A Magical Romantic Comedy (with a body count)

by RJ Blain

  He laughed and patted my back. “You’ll be all right. We’ll wait for her in the sun room; she’ll be blind until she gets there, anyway. They’ll be careful with her, but I’m worried about how she’ll react. She seems quite feisty. You need to keep her from trying to take them on barehanded.”

  “I think they’d win.”

  “They would. Now, the Tower of Babel. What do you know of it?”

  “I’m not exactly religious,” I warned, shrugging. “It was in the Bible. It fell—destroyed by God—if I remember correctly.”

  “Yes and no. The Bible’s really good at taking bits of history and twisting them. The tower existed, it did fall, but God didn’t destroy it. The Babylonians got bored, so they abandoned it, leaving their wealth of knowledge for humanity to find. As do all good intentions, it backfired. They’d been distant from humans to begin with; the humans had enough trouble with infighting. The Babylonians are not human, nor do they understand what it means to be human.”

  “I noticed. I also noticed the different representations of the Bible’s history in the restaurant.”

  Quinton smiled. “We noticed you noticing. We could lose you for hours if we put you in Noah’s room with a good view of the ceiling. It wasn’t damaged, in case you were worried—none of the frescos were.”

  “Good. You were alive before the Tower of Babel fell, weren’t you?”

  The vampire sighed, dodged around a sapphire protruding from the floor, and guided me to the gap in the cavern wall. “We’re old, our family.”

  “Are you going to bite me if I ask a question?”

  “No, but I may choose not to answer.”

  “Fair. Were you already a vampire during the flood?”

  Quinton glanced at me, looked away the instant he realized how closely I was watching him, and guided me to the next room, one made of emerald green, cubic crystals. He pointed at one nearby, large enough to serve as a seat for both of us. “Catch your breath. You really have studied that fresco, haven’t you?”

  “Or I know you and your family well.”

  “When people tell me that, I laugh at their arrogance. In your case, the sentiment may be correct. No, we were still alive then but not for much longer.”

  Vampires couldn’t remember their old lives; when their souls died, the memories of who they’d once been died with them. I sucked in a breath. Someone had made that fresco for them—someone who remembered, someone older. “Were you still alive when you first met Abil Ili?”

  Quinton’s smile carried a sharp, predatory edge and showed me his teeth. “You ask hard but good questions. My father still lived. I did not.”

  Sinking onto the stone, I stared at him, a chill running through me. “But your father sired you, didn’t he?”

  “I was the reason for Papa’s fall. Papa was, in life, a wiseman—an elder of a tribe. We don’t remember which one. That’s something Abil Ili refuses to tell us. Some secrets are best left in the grave, he says. He’s probably right. The Babylonians can do many things, but they can’t bring back the dead. Knowledge is power, Gibby. Magic is power. Together, they’re a dangerous, terrible, wonderful thing. Abil Ili’s love for Papa is the love he shares with his hive. They shared their grief. No one says so, but we were a mistake—a beloved mistake, a cherished mistake, but a mistake all the same. It was not God who destroyed the Tower of Babel, but the Babylonians themselves. From their libraries, they stole the secrets of magic and left the mundane teachings for humans. Then, it was a concept. Theory. They’d never risen someone from the dead before, but they knew the law; one life for another. Papa laid down his for mine, but instead of my resurrection, it became his, and the man Papa had once been died, gone during the turning, his soul forever lost. But Abil Ili remembered, and he refused to let Papa’s sacrifice be in vain. Thus, we all died, but we rose with the dying sun, made new by Papa’s fangs.” The vampire paused. “I’d been dead for several days by then.”

  I thought about the Saven brood’s odd respect for the Bible and the stories it told. “Three days?”

  “Three is a funny number. It’s the proclaimed sacred number, the time the Christ spent dead before he rose. Before the Babylonians, magic had been a more common, accepted thing. Then it disappeared with them—and a good thing that was, too. Their time became a time of myth and legend. But three days is the limit for a lot of things, including the rise of a vampire. Had Papa not risen me from my grave before the rising of the sun on the fourth day, I wouldn’t have risen at all.”

  “Abil Ili recreated your family after your deaths.”

  “We owe him much for that. It’s why we are like we are. Newly risen vampires are driven by instinct and the need to hunt. We must be taught. We were born anew.” Quinton touched his chest. “This soul is not the soul of my birth.”

  I wasn’t brave enough to ask whose soul gave the vampire his unlife.

  A newborn kitten could’ve outpaced me, but I didn’t whine about my exhaustion or trembling. Quinton knew; he kept licking his fangs, displaying a hint of his hunger in the presence of weakened prey.

  “If you bite me again, I’m shoving my Rugers up your ass and firing,” I informed him in my most cheerful voice, picking a slanted yellow crystal to lounge on until Marian arrived. If someone wanted me to move, they’d have to move me. “I feel like I could sleep for a week.”

  “You’ll feel better after you have something to eat. It’s been a long time since they’ve made something palatable for humans, so I expect they’re challenged finding you’ll enjoy—and being careful about what they bring up from the gardens. I’ll get them to give you a tour before we leave. I think Abil Ili underestimated how badly you were injured at the restaurant.”

  “I think I underestimated how badly I was injured,” I confessed.

  Quinton straightened, tilting his head to the side to listen. “Ah, she’s here.”

  I thought about getting up. I spent so long thinking about it I missed my chance. Two Babylonians shoved Marian through a crack in the yellow crystals, and she squeaked, stumbling to a halt. Silver, shimmering cloth swaddled her, and she held it in place with a hand, her brown eyes wide. Her wet hair was plastered to her head.

  With preternatural speed, Quinton stepped to her, tucked her under his arm, and guided her through the cavern while the pair of Babylonians melted into the stone. If I looked carefully, I could find the outline of their bodies. They crept away from where they’d disappeared, the faint, rare reflection of light on their carapaces betrayed their presence.

  Marian’s eyes widened when she saw me. “Shane.”

  I liked the way she breathed my name. “You all right?”

  “I threw up.”

  The confession motivated me to get to my feet, and I closed the distance between us, aware Quinton was ready to catch me if I fell. I tucked her wet hair behind her ears and smiled at her. “Pity party for two later?”

  “I’m in. I broke my wrist.” She struggled to free her other hand from the fabric wrapped around her and revealed a brace covering most of her hand and extending to her elbow. “I think a tentacle touched me.”

  After exchanging a worried glance with the vampire, I nudged Marian to the nearest crystal large enough to support our weight. When I thought of towels, shimmery and silky didn’t come to mind, but the fabric the Babylonians had wrapped her in seemed to be drying her and keeping her warm. “I won’t talk about the tentacles if you don’t.”

  “I jumped in corpse stew, Shane.” She lifted her injured arm and sniffed the brace. “Why don’t I smell bad?”

  “Shock,” Quinton whispered in my ear.

  “Magic,” I answered, grateful the Babylonians had spared us from the canal’s stench. “What were you thinking, escaping from the hospital?”

  “You were hurt,” she hissed at me, clutching the towel closer. “Of course I escaped from the hospital. I needed to find you. Who did it?”

  I laughed, knowing I could get Quinton into a world of trouble with the
woman if I wanted. I sat close and shamelessly leaned my weight against her. She leaned against me, too, which made me think everything was right in the world, at least for the moment. “I’m sorry I worried you. I wasn’t being hurt. I was being helped. It was just a bit painful is all.”

  “I thought you were dying.”

  Later, I’d need to ask her how she’d known. Instead of denying the truth, I kissed her cheek. “Quinton took care of me, so don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

  “You’re shaking.”

  “I’ve been told that’ll stop after I eat and get some rest. I owe our hosts an accounting of everything, so please don’t kill me when I say the S-word and the A-word?”

  “This once,” she replied, gracing me with a smile. “You’re all right?”

  I hooked the top of her towel with a finger and peeked, discovering a lovely, unimpeded view of bare skin. “Hospital gown didn’t survive the slide?”

  “That was not a slide. It was a torture device. Then tentacles grabbed me, Shane. There were tentacles in the water. You didn’t tell me there were tentacles in the water.”

  I laughed, wrapped my arms around her, and hugged her close. Whatever magic the Babylonians had used had erased the evidence of her trip, for which I was grateful. “Sorry, Marian.”

  “You’re going to be sorry. Tentacles.”

  Unable to blame her in the slightest for her crankiness, I wondered if I’d discovered one of her fears. I wasn’t a fan of tentacles, especially ones tipped in poisoned claws and hooks, but at the same time, those claws and hooks had helped me remain among the living. “I’d be unnerved by tentacles in the dark, too. The owners of the tentacles are the ones who helped me. And I needed the help. Right, Quinton?”

  Maybe if I dumped the whole problem on the vampire’s lap, he could better prepare Marian to accept the Babylonians, especially since I still had trouble with their hooks and claws and secretions.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Peterson. Part of what you sensed was likely my fault. He couldn’t be sedated until after he’d shifted back to human, and it was a painful process. I bit him so I could hold him in thrall long enough for him to be treated.”

  Marian stiffened. “You bit him.”

  “Out of necessity. Had I not, it would have been difficult to treat his injuries. I saw the MRI scans, and they were rather dire. He needed help the human hospitals here are unable to provide. Down here, they aren’t prejudiced—they aren’t human, nor are they anything like humans. His wrist will bear the evidence of my bite for a few days, but it’ll heal without scarring.”

  I tightened my grip on Marian, holding her close. “I consented to it. If I’d known you would know, I would’ve done it differently. I had no idea you’d be aware.”

  Marian frowned, her attention fixed on the vampire. “Really necessary?”

  “Unless you wanted him in ICU for a few weeks, yes.”

  I flinched, as did Marian.

  “These people who helped him have tentacles?”

  Quinton chuckled. “Yes. They’re the residents of these caves. They’re also the ones who help maintain the illusions over the canal and help the survivors get back into Lower Chicago. They’re friends with Papa.”

  “All right. And he doesn’t need to go to the ER?”

  “I’m fine, Marian. Tired, but fine.”

  She shot a glare at me but sighed and touched the scar above my right eye. “You lost your eye.”

  “Oh, the Babylonians took it.” I shrugged. “It’s all right.”

  With wide eyes and her mouth gaping open, Marian stared at me. “Babylonians?”

  “Well, I suppose there’s no use hiding it from her now.” Quinton scowled at me and sighed. “Abil Ili?”

  Although I’d been able to spot the pair of Babylonians near the entry, I hadn’t noticed Abil Ili until he separated from the crystals beside us, dipping into a bow, his crest rustling while the rest of his body gleamed in rainbow hues. “I’m honored.”

  Marian made a strangled noise in her throat and went limp against me. My eyes widened, and I held onto her. “Marian?”

  Quinton covered his mouth with a hand, but I could hear him snickering.

  “Oh dear. We were right to worry. She reacted rather poorly when we grabbed her in the water. She screamed loud enough to stir the ire of the dead below.” Abil Ili crouched in front of Marian, and the fluid covering his claws faded from black to a pale blue. The Babylonian watched his hands, waiting until the last of the black dripped away before reaching up and touching Marian’s shoulder, pricking her with a single claw. “This will help her stay calm when she awakens. It suppresses emotions—all emotions—making fear easier to handle. The effect will only last an hour or two, but long enough for her to adapt to our presence, yes? Quinton?”

  “She’s tough. I don’t think she would have had a problem if she hadn’t been stressed worrying about Gibby. Gibby, I’ll carry her. Abil Ili, he’s still unsteady on his feet.”

  “I will make sure he does not fall. Let’s go inside, then we will feed our guests so the storytelling may begin.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Deep within the crystal cavern complex, I discovered the glory of Rome blended with the exotic splendor of Ancient Egypt. A ziggurat, carved of shining gemstone and embraced by a sparkling river, rose from an opal floor. Most wouldn’t view its seven stories as impressive, but something about it gave the sense of looming majesty.

  “A few cultures did learn from us,” Abil Ili murmured, gesturing to the archway leading into the structure. A path of pale crystal spanned the still, clear waters. “Within, you will find comforts appropriate for the humans we had once longed to teach, food to nourish your body, and peace to soothe your soul.”

  Quinton sighed, shifting Marian’s weight in his arms. “She looks dainty, but this woman sure knows how to pack on the muscle, doesn’t she? She’s no wilting lily.”

  “Trust me, I noticed.” I liked it, too. I appreciated that Marian was a capable woman who could protect herself—and do anything she set her mind to. “What can I say? I’m my father’s son.”

  “And werewolf males get off on their women beating the snot out of them.” Throwing back his head, Quinton laughed. “She’s tough enough to handle you. You’re perfect together.”

  “To handle me?”

  “Gibby, you shoot innocent vampires in the kneecaps because you can.”

  “Innocent?”

  I had to concentrate to walk a straight line, but I didn’t need Abil Ili’s help to reach the ziggurat. The instant I stepped across the threshold, I held my breath. I knew the room; I’d stepped through it countless times in Michietti’s. The entries were identical, including the mosaic on the ceiling. “Quinton?”

  “A reminder of who and what we were and who and what we’ve become,” the vampire murmured, and in his tone, I heard a plea to drop the subject.

  I did, shutting my mouth with a clack of my teeth.

  Abil Ili led us through an archway off the foyer to a sea of cushions awaiting us. Dipping into a bow, he gestured to the room, a riot of brilliant colors cradled in golden crystals peeking between Roman columns. “Nest to your comfort, and I shall bring sustenance for us.”

  Unlike the two Babylonians I’d spotted, when Abil Ili disappeared, I couldn’t spot any sign of his presence. I stepped into the room, stepped onto a thick layer of cushions instead of solid floor, and fell on my face with a startled squawk.

  Quinton laughed, took more care descending into the cushions, and lowered Marian onto them. “I should have warned you. You all right?”

  “My pride may never recover.”

  “You’ll live. Make yourself comfortable, cuddle with your lady, and relax. You’ll tell Abil Ili everything that’s happened from your first meeting with Marian. Then we’ll decide how to deal with the people who’ve brought murder onto the Babylonian’s doorstep. It’ll be interesting.”

  I worried when a vampire thousands of years old thought somet
hing was interesting. “All right.”

  Wading through the pillows to Marian, I slid beneath her until her head rested on my chest. I cradled her on my lap and, with a little help from Quinton, propped myself up with cushions. To make sure I was the only one to see every perfect inch of Marian, I tucked her towel around her securely.

  “Why don’t you wake her up? That way, we can get her acclimated to Abil Ili before bringing in the others—or more accurately, having them reveal themselves.” Quinton nodded towards a column, and I caught a faint shimmer near a golden crystal sticking out of the wall.

  A few gentle slaps against her cheek roused her, and when she snuggled close to me, I decided I wasn’t in any hurry for her to wake up. Smiling at her warmth and the way she wiggled, I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her. Still, the vampire was right. She needed to be alert—and calm. “Marian?”

  “The tentacles have claws,” she mumbled.

  “His name is Abil Ili, and he’s a Babylonian.” I rubbed her back and leaned over so I could kiss her forehead. “He startled me, too, when I first saw him. I hid in Quinton’s jacket.”

  “It’s true, he did.”

  “Where are we?” she lifted her head from my chest, her eyes dull and glazed. Anxious about her lethargy, I turned to Quinton in silent inquiry.

  “It’s from his claw,” the vampire whispered in my ear. “She’ll be fine, so don’t you panic on me.”

  Sighing my relief, I rested my cheek against Marian’s hair. “We’re in part of the third level of Chicago. There’s no sign of Hecate and her lampad companions, but it turns out there are Babylonians and crystal caves.”

  “Oh, the lampad are real. They don’t come out often. They aren’t a threat, not usually.” Chuckling, Quinton lounged beside us. “And be grateful Hecate isn’t a frequent visitor. Nothing good happens when the gods walk the Earth. Sometimes they come and go with us none the wiser, but they usually leave trouble in their wake.”