by R. E. Carr
Paige flipped on the TV and switched it over immediately to streaming. Jonathan’s eyes lit up as he saw eighties comedies as a category. She motioned to the sofa, but he only perched on the opposite arm. She shrugged and started up Ghostbusters for their viewing pleasure. By the time she choked down the mountain of quinoa goodness, the doorbell rang, and she was rescued by deep-dish pepperoni and cheese.
“My hero,” she said, before shoving the slice into her mouth. Jonathan finally settled down a bit, and soon they were both lounging on the sofa with their tails flopping freely over the back of their waistbands.
“So, how was your day?” Jonathan asked innocently.
“Interesting. Dr. Nakano got me in contact with a rather specialized OB/GYN and I finally got an ultrasound.”
“Oh, everything OK?”
“Weird but OK,” she said, looking away. “I need a lot more iron, apparently, and I have to stay calm. You know, the normal pregnancy routine.”
“Well, that sounds pretty good,” he said with a smile. “It’s good to know that the little guy is A-OK.”
“Yeah, it is a little guy. Kyle kinda blurted out that it was a boy.”
“That’s awesome. I hope you weren’t looking to be surprised.”
“I hate surprises. Now I just have to think of a name, I guess . . . oh, and where I’m going to live, and set up a nursery—and have you ever read a parenting forum online? I’m less scared of vampires than those women and their opinions on breast versus bottle-feeding. Believe me, there is nothing on there about how to keep your child from getting torn to shreds if you involuntarily change into a slavering she-beast.”
“I just had to deal with your mom testing recipes all day.”
“Woof,” Paige said, giving him a little grin. “Did she make you blush?”
“Your mother is exceptionally vulgar. I’ve never met anyone who could conjugate the word fuck quite so many ways when they burn something. One time, she and Tina got into an argument over something called a coulis, and I had to hide out back with Man-Bun. Are you sure your mother isn’t a werewolf too?”
“I’m sure, but I’m also pretty sure she’s more terrifying than all of us put together when she’s behind the pass.”
They made small talk and lounged around watching the movie, even getting so lost in each other that they made it most of the way into Ghostbusters II before noticing. “Oh, this is the slime one, isn’t it?” Jonathan noted. His eyes widened as he also noticed his tail had flopped on top of Paige’s. He flopped it over to the other side, prompting Paige to giggle a little.
“It’s OK, you know. I’m not gonna bite you for a little tail-touching.”
Jonathan laughed a little. He stopped suddenly and turned away. Paige leaned towards him and gave him a concerned look of her own. “Jonathan?”
“I was staring . . . at your neck,” he confessed. “I suddenly had this flashback, and, um, it’s a little too intense for my liking.”
“A flashback?” She inched a little bit further away. “What do you mean?”
Jonathan’s shoulders shook. He made a point to keep his back towards her. “I’m sorry, Paige. I’m so sorry, but I can’t do this anymore.”
“Do what?”
“Pretend I don’t want to do this,” he said, before lunging at her. He stopped a mere inch in front of her lips, his own lower lip quivering as his fangs protruded. He cringed as she stared right through him. Paige cocked her head ever so slightly and raised her hand to touch his face. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t—”
“You shouldn’t hesitate next time,” she growled, before grabbing his hair and pulling him towards her to finally finish the kiss. By the time she let him go, he was out of breath and his cheeks bright pink.
“And here I was, thinking I was too forward,” he said, shaking his head. He smiled as he felt Paige’s hands on his hips and had to shift a bit as she continued to stay pressed against him. “I mean, how does this work, you being, um—”
“It works,” she whispered, kissing his ear and sliding her hands up to remove his shirt. Her eyes widened as she saw an intricate pattern of what looked like tattoos circling his torso. “Those are new,” she murmured, before tracing them with her tongue.
“And I am glad they are there right now,” he said as he fumbled with Paige’s top. “Oh god, it’s been so long since . . . oh boy. This is happening, isn’t it? It’s really happ—”
Paige slid one hand around and tugged at his tail. She gave him a wicked grin. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that to someone else.”
“I am OK with this,” he said as he shimmied up her skirt and slid down her underwear in a surprisingly deft motion. He, too, then took a cheap shot of tugging on some tail. Paige snarled and pinned him on the sofa. He gave her belly one more concerned look. “Are you sure we can do this?”
She responded by loosening the drawstring on his fly. In a matter of moments, she settled on top of him, and they both rolled their eyes back and shuddered. Slowly, carefully, they were soon grinding in time to the dulcet tones of Bobby Brown coming from the TV.
“Oh god,” Jonathan cried out as all his pent-up frustration came rushing out. “Oh . . . damn I needed that.”
“Me too,” Paige said as she flopped back against the sofa. She wiped the sweat off her forehead. “Damn, I’m out of shape thanks to this little guy. Woof . . . he is probably wondering what the hell just happened.”
Jonathan donned a rather guilty face. “Did I really just bang a pregnant gal to the Ghostbusters credits?”
“No . . . you banged a pregnant gal to the credits of Ghostbusters II. I’m pretty sure you need therapy now.”
“What I need is a towel—or a shower,” he confessed. As Paige ambled to the kitchen, she noted in horror that all the kitchen towels had idyllic scenes of bunnies and kittens all over them. She picked a particularly faded one and tossed it back to the sofa. “And the wrong continues,” she heard Jonathan say in the other room.
She grabbed the carton of milk and two glasses before sauntering back to a stunned Jonathan Dean. He flipped the towel around, so she could see adorable puppies as the central design. She grinned sheepishly. “Would you prefer bunnies?”
She slid the bag of cookies and a glass towards him. “Snack first? Or did you want to shower?”
“Can we, um . . . talk, maybe?”
Paige grabbed a cookie and settled down on the edge of the sofa. Jonathan motioned her over, and soon she was leaning against his tattooed chest, listening to the strange combination of vampire and human heartbeats. She smiled as he stroked her hair. The smile faded as one of his claws got tangled in her curls. “Sorry,” he apologized as he finally worked his hand free.
They sat in awkward silence for a few moments, staring at the next autoplay selection of Groundhog Day. Both of them mumbled, “I love this movie.”
“So other than sex and a love of Bill Murray . . . what else do we have in common, babe?” Jonathan asked before kissing her again. “I can’t shake this familiar feeling like this isn’t the first time we’ve done this.”
“Not you . . . the other you,” Paige answered. As she turned her neck she became painfully aware of the tips of his fangs right above her skin. She held her breath.
“What am I doing?” Jonathan growled as he jerked away. “What the hell is wrong with me?”
“You’re a damn vampire! What did you expect?”
“It’s wrong. I’ve already lost enough control tonight. I’m not gonna try to eat you, darlin’.”
“Oh, it’s not food, sweetheart,” Paige growled. “That’s how vampires get it on. I should warn you though, I will taste terrible right now.”
Jonathan gagged. “You mean, I want to . . . blood . . . God, I hate blood. Did you and the other me . . .?”
Paige nodded.
“Is it like the movies where you drink the vampire blood too?” he asked, now rather green.
Paige nodded again
. This time she rested her head reassuringly against his shoulder.
“But you don’t get turned into a vampire? That part I’m guessing is B.S.”
“Not unless the vampire is pregnant; and before you ask, yes, vampires get pregnant and have babies too. In fact . . .” She hesitated, then changed her mind and took that moment to dive for her milk and cookies. “It’s nothing, don’t mind me.”
“Look, we can’t keep beating around the bush . . .” He turned red. “I really need to work on my phrasing. Please, I’m tired of not knowing all this crap I’m supposed to know. I mean, I get that the other dude and you had a thing, and I respect that, but we kinda have a thing now too, and I really don’t think we have time to mess around with the secrets and the drama, babe. Erin, please, talk to me. I mean Paige, your name is totally Paige.”
Paige took a deep breath. “Lorcan and I met at a party, and we ended up sorta having a thing. I mean, we were both a little awkward and hated parties, and I reminded him of his first wife who had been dead for about two thousand years . . . so we ended up having a fair bit of kinky sex . . . what? What is that look for?”
“I’ve never heard of anyone hooking up with someone because they reminded them of someone from biblical times, that’s all,” he said with a smirk.
“Well, it didn’t last. It got weird fast when I started talking to Lorcan’s reflection because a chunk of him was floating around in my body and sometimes telling me what to do. We broke up. I mean, we would have broken up if we had ever really gone out together, but I ended up dating a really hot werewolf from Chicago named Morgan, and I’m just telling you . . .” she trailed off as she stared at the half-empty glasses of milk. “Holy crap, it still works even though you’re not you anymore.”
“Now I’m confused, but I’m also strangely angry about hearing you talk about Morgan. Also, I can’t stop staring at your magnificent tits. Whoa, why did that slip out?”
“We had this thing. I don’t know if it was a vampire power or some brainwashed compulsion, but ever since we shared blood, we can’t lie to each other as long as we are sharing a drink. It’s something his grandfather . . . your grandfather taught him. It still seems to work,” Paige said, covering her mouth. Jonathan grabbed the glasses and handed Paige hers.
“Then let’s drink up because I want answers.”
“You realize it works on you too, right? I could ask you anything, and you won’t lie to me,” Paige said.
“It’s fair play. Now tell me why I get so angry hearing about you with this Morgan?”
“Because . . . I loved Morgan, and I chose him over you.”
“I see,” Jonathan growled. “But I also know that’s not entirely true. Tell me what happened.”
“Morgan and I broke up when I wouldn’t leave your half of the pack and go with him, so he up and left. Lorcan and I were invited to a vampire ball at Pendragon Castle., but it was totally a trap. Morgan ended up sneaking in and pretended to be a human blood donor. That’s where he currently resides, I think. I also found out that the virus in me was modified somehow to make it deadly to the other you. It’s what eventually killed you . . . err, Lorcan because this damn berserker virus started bringing Lorcan’s body back to life. Two-thousand-year-old corpses don’t handle being reanimated very well, if you must know. Everything would have been fine if it wasn’t for Arthur, and Merlin, and that goddamn ball.”
“And you feel guilty. You think you killed me, I mean, him? I’m sure it’s not your fault, babe—”
“It is my fault. Arthur and Merlin used us as a lesson.”
“What kinda lesson?”
“Arthur ordered Lorcan and I to get married.”
“Wait, you’re my wife, and you didn’t tell me? Paige!”
Paige pushed to her feet. Her attempt to storm away ended up more like a waddle, and she struggled with her balance. Before she could topple over, the still-shirtless Jonathan grabbed her to steady her. She paused for a moment again just to take in the wall of rock-hard abs that were far more tanned and impressive than the previous model. Even with the scarring across his stomach and unfortunate yoga pants, he looked ready to walk the runway. She tried to slip away, but he locked his arms around her.
“We’re married? That’s why I’m so jealous when any guy so much as looks at you too long? You wore a red dress, didn’t you? I remember the dress, and I distinctly remember pulling it off. Oh my god—” He pointed to her stomach.
“Lorcan and I were married, and Lorcan, for all intents and purposes, is now dead. It was a Catholic ceremony, and it was till death do us part. So, unless you’re suddenly Lorcan, we’re not married . . . we’re just a confusing . . . thing.”
“You said that you and the baby’s father broke up before you met me,” Jonathan stammered out. “I mean, is it . . .?”
“Yes, it’s Lorcan’s baby, but not the way you think!” Paige blurted out. She paused for a moment looking at Jonathan. “What the hell, might as well spill all the beans now. Remember how I said vampires get pregnant too? Well, Lorcan was, and his little spawn is all tangled up with my happy little accident courtesy of Morgan. There, are you satisfied? Now you know!” Paige’s eyes widened as she saw the claws extending from under her nails. She shoved away from Jonathan and hurried to the kitchen where she found a handful of dishes to wash before she could get any more furious. She glared over the sudsy sink. “And yes, I fucked Morgan the night before my wedding. I’m sure you love hearing that.”
Jonathan yanked his shirt back on. Paige sniffled as she watched him walk to the door. Before her tears could roll over her lashes, however, the shadows in the kitchen seemed to move with a life of their own. She caught her breath.
“A rún, is everything you say true?”
Paige dropped the dish she was scrubbing. She shook her head furiously. “Don’t . . . don’t play games with me.”
Jonathan walked around the pony wall that separated the kitchen from the living area. The shadows collected around his face, creating a mask that made his green eyes shine even brighter. “Don’t confuse a deep sleep with death, A rún.”
“Lorcan?” Paige gasped. “Am I . . . dreaming?”
“I find myself asking the very same question. Pray tell, why do I sound like Batman from Texas?” Lorcan asked, cocking his head. He eyed Paige’s stomach and raised a brow. “Oh my, I’ve missed so very, very much indeed.”
Paige stood there, dumbstruck, with suds dripping from her hands until Lorcan finally rushed to her side and swept her into a passionate kiss. She wrapped her arms around him and let him sweep her off her feet. Soon she found herself lying in bed, holding onto Lorcan as tightly as she could.
“Does this mean that you’re back, and Jonathan is gone?” she asked softly.
“If only it were so simple, A rún,” he whispered in her ear. “Now, tell me everything that has happened so far before I must rest again, and Mr. Dean takes his consciousness back.”
5
Gail sat in the lab, staring past the screen full of Latin text and into the shadowy recesses behind the row of cabinets. The lights flickered along the cupboards, and she had to raise a brow as she watched her laptop flicker as well. She pulled her hand away from the keyboard and shivered as tiny sparks zapped the tips of each of her digits.
Next, she turned her attention to the row of petri dishes she had lined up on her table. The first row contained a clear liquid, the second a thick reddish-black one. She picked up a glass rod and poked into the fluid. The first dish now looked sludgy as she swirled the swizzle stick around. “Chuck steak—gelatinous and broken down after three hours.”
She poked in the next dish and cringed as she still saw a chicken bone, albeit a slightly flexible one. Next came spotted, burned leather and a smooth little tooth. She then poked at the thick liquid and found the same substances sticky, but not really broken down. Gail raised a brow and gave a sideways glance to her cellulose-free, artificially-flavored seltzer in a can. She gagged a little
and spat onto the top of the aluminum. At first, there was nothing, and then a terrible hissing and sizzle as her venom made a raft of noxious bubbles. She returned to her notes and circled “Hydrochloric Acid” in her “Acid Spit” column. Her note-taking paused as she saw the bubbles erupt, and the terrible smell filled the room. She grabbed her emergency baking soda and made the mess even worse as the bubbles surged.
The door burst open and a wide-eyed combo of Williams and Bernard rushed into the lab. Williams let out a scream like a little girl as he saw all the melting meat in dishes, while the smaller mountain of hair and flannel known as Bernard squealed in delight. “I smell chemistry!” he sang.
“I spit acid,” Gail replied flatly. “At least, most of it is . . .”
“Hydrochloric!” Bernard finished. He sniffed again. “Enzymatic chaser and something . . . fruity?”
“Pear seltzer,” Gail sighed. “Look, I just wanted to do something useful and figure out . . .”
Bernard whipped on a pair of heavy gloves from one of his multitude of pockets. He started poking and sniffing, while Williams scraped his jaw off the bench. “You spit acid? Can you dissolve a body?”
“It doesn’t work like that,” Gail said. “But I managed to weaken my cage bars to escape the sheriff’s trap, so I thought I might try to figure out a little more scientifically what I was dealing with. The acid comes from the clear spittle and it burns like a bitch, but I haven’t figured out what the other goo does . . . wait, is that a lighter?”
Bernard giggled as he touched the lighter to one of the dark dishes. Everyone gasped as the goop burst into flames. Williams and Gail launched into automatic pilot, grabbing the fire extinguisher by the door. Williams bravely stood in front, spraying Gail’s experiments proudly.
“I think it’s butane in some sort of jelly. Did you know that? I bet if you burped wrong, we could ignite it. You’d be awesome at parties,” Bernard said as he wiped a bit of foam off his gloves. Gail, meanwhile, gasped in horror at the mess on her notes and laptop.
“Did you have to spray everything, Tom?” she asked. “Also, why were you guys sniffing around the lab? I mean, is it because I’m a vampire?”
