by Karen Greco
"We don't know, I am sorry," he shook his head. "You're the first of your kind -- that we know about anyway. No one knows what will happen."
"My parents really messed this up." I shook my head.
Dr. O's mouth relaxed into a small smile. "They didn't know. Your mom was just tickled to be pregnant. They didn't think about the...consequences."
I closed my eyes. "That's just great. Now what do I do?"
"Wait and see? Continue to fight the urges?" Dr. O shrugged. "I don't really know."
At least he was honest. I sighed and leaned my back against the cold tile. I missed Darcy. I wanted to curl up on the coach, eat ice cream, and cry about how unfair it was that our lives were so fucked up. You know, something you can only do with your best girl friend. I hoped she’d get through her banshee business soon, so she could fly out here.
"We just wait and see," Dr. O repeated, not meeting my eyes. I knew exactly what he meant. If I turned and couldn't be controlled, I'd be dealt with.
It could take centuries to learn to control the blood lust. Back when Frankie and my dad were figuring out how to live with vampirism, there were only superstitious villagers and a few overzealous priests. While it was easier for vamps to hide in plain sight now, it was also more deadly with Blood Ops running around. We weren’t human and not as easy to slaughter.
Frankie was one of just a handful of vampires that were part of Blood Ops. And there was a good reason for that. Even the centuries-old vamps had a hard time pulling themselves together. While blood lust could be controlled, apparently the press of power that immortality promised was hard to overcome. That rush of power nailed the coffin, so to speak, on their humanity.
I pushed myself up off the edge of the tub and opened the bathroom door. Turning back, I caught Dr. O's eyes. "We'll figure this one out, Nina,” he said. “That I promise." He reached for me and gave my hand a quick squeeze. I smiled faintly. I needed to keep my shit together. I could do this.
When we got back to the table, Babe was dragging Max on a nostalgia trip through Catemaco. He was listening politely, but looked spectacularly uncomfortable. In fact, he looked almost green.
"You told him about Tito Gonzo, didn't you?" I slipped back into my seat and thought about the few stories Babe shared about the weird family in Mexico. Tito Gonzo was a medicine man, and stories I once assumed to be just superstitious tall-tales about animal sacrifices and other bloody rituals were clearly part of my family's ancient, witchy ways.
Babe simply smiled, and reached out and patted Max on the hand. "Don't worry, honey. We don't do a lot of blood sacrifice around here."
Max's green hue turned pale.
"You told him?"
"Well, you weren't going to do it," she snapped back at me.
"Great," I groaned. "Did you tell him the other thing?"
"What other thing?" Max now looked positively alarmed.
"The vampire thing?" Babe tossed out nonchalantly. She slapped her hand over her mouth.
"Vampire thing?" Max now stood.
I jumped up, too quickly, and he began backing away from the table.
Max's fear blanketed the room, and once again my fangs pushed through my gums, forcing their way out. The shock of pain ripping through my gums made me gasp, and I flashed my fangs right at Max, who went white as a sheet and pulled out his gun.
"Max, no!" Dr. O cried out and Babe leaped up from the table.
I closed my eyes, and turned my back to him, trying to remember the deep breathing techniques I learned from a yoga magazine I flipped through at the hair salon. He wouldn't shoot me in the back. Would he?
All the commotion put Dog on edge. She stalked out from under the table where she was snoozing and eyed Max. The black fur on her back stood on end, and a low growl vibrated her entire body.
This was not going well.
"Dog," I cautioned her in a low voice without turning around. "Come to me."
Obediently, she sat at my feet, the growl now low in her throat. She was still eying Max like she wanted to eat him.
My fangs retracted as I gathered myself and turned back to him.
"Put your gun away," I cautioned. "That won't do much good here anyway, and will probably get you killed." I gave Dog's head a scratch for good measure.
Max grudgingly holstered the gun, but kept his hand on the butt. "You're a witch and a vampire?"
"Half witch, half vampire," I clarified. "But not a true, honest-to-God, dead vampire. That's Frankie."
He looked positively freaked by this point.
"You are all nuts." He pushed past me and strode to the door. "Stay out of my investigation."
"Yeah, about that..." I stopped him cold. "You said yourself that those murders weren't the work of gangs."
"Then who?" he turned to me again, his eyes blazing with anger.
"You aren't going to like my answer." I crossed my arms and waited.
"Stay out of my investigation," he repeated and stalked out, slamming the door hard enough to make me jump.
"That went well," Babe pursed her lips and started clearing the plates off the table. I flopped on the couch and closed my eyes. Damn it. We were all in way over our heads.
CHAPTER 23
Final exams were over, so Babe's on the Sunnyside was packed. The neighborhood regulars like Alfonso squeezed between the frat boys from Brown University slamming fuzzy nipples, giggling every time they ordered a new one. The Goth girls from RISD ordered Bloody Marys and looked appropriately depressed. The music was loud, the crowd was rowdy, and I had to subtly slip into vamp speed to keep the customers in booze. Babe was behind the bar with me, and still we could barely keep up.
I pushed another whiskey at Alfonso, who took it with a nod. "Sorry about last night, Kid. My age is finally catching up to me."
"Don't worry about it," I shouted over the noise. "We came out alive. How old are you anyway?"
He laughed and drank the whiskey down, and pointed to the other end of the bar.
A bunch of the frat boys were causing a commotion, grabbing at two women who were pretty much keeping to themselves.
"Not in my bar!" I stalked over to the offenders. "Back off!" I yelled at the four boys.
One of them looked at me with piercing green eyes, smirked, and kept right on bugging the women, who were then physically pushing the guys away, rather unsuccessfully.
I jumped onto the bar and yanked yellow eyes by the top of his hair. "I told you to back off!" I pulled him up so that his toes barely touched the floor and shoved him back into his friends. They caught up, levered him back upright, and he lunged for my feet. I jumped up and he hugged air. Sidestepping him, I jumped down off the bar into the crowd. I wish I could say I stood eye to eye with him, but damn it he was tall. I was staring directly at his chest.
So, intimidation wasn't going to be easy. He sneered at me, and drew back his right fist, aiming for my jaw. I ducked and he hit air again. But before I could get up, his friend tackled me from behind. He slammed his body into my lower back first, then he pushed my face into the bar. I pushed my hands in front of me, so they could absorb most of the blow, then donkey-kicked him right in the balls.
"You bitch!" He doubled over in pain.
"And who are you talking about, Mate?" I heard a voice intone.
I winced. Frankie. I was not going to live this down.
Frankie picked the guy up by the scruff of his neck and literally threw him out the door. "Right, then. Who's next?" Frankie smiled at Mr. Green Eyes standing on the other side of the bar door’s threshold, and he flashed lots of fang.
Mr. Green Eyes’ friend edged around Frankie's towering frame and quickly slipped out the door. The bar erupted in a round of applause, and then everyone went back to their regularly scheduled drinking.
"Thanks," I said, sitting on the bar and swinging my legs over to jump to the other side.
"Oh, my pleasure," Frankie said. He grinned at me as his fangs retracted.
I rolled my ey
es at him. "Bourbon?"
"Please," he responded, surveying the room.
I poured him a double shot of Old Granddad, hoping that the irony of the bourbon I chose was not lost. "I had it under control, you know."
"I know you did, Love, but I enjoy helping. Makes me feel useful." He winked at me.
I began filling pitchers with Narragansett beer, which I sent sliding down the bar to Babe. She placed them in front of the Religious Studies grad students that Alfonso loved arguing with. Since it looked like Al bought this round, the argument must be a doozy.
I was about to head down that way to eavesdrop when the door swung open, the cold air cleared a few heads. The noise of the bar immediately died down, leaving Alfonso's string of curses hanging in the air. Ami Bertrand stood in the doorway, flanked on one side by Tavio and the other by Max.
When Babe caught sight of who had arrived, she joined Alfonso in a cascade of impressive curses, some completely new to my ears.
Like the Red Sea parting, the crowd made room for the three men. Bertrand looked impeccable in a winter-white wool coat and a black Borselino with a red band. He smiled and shook hands as he walked through the crowd. The students crowded around were enamored.
When he got near the bar, a pretty brunette stepped in his path. She was gushing about the shelter he financed for Downcity's homeless population. He had rehabbed an abandoned building adjacent to the Biltmore into a housing facility for the homeless. The co-ed prattled on about the self esteem-building, forward thinking that went into the idea.
"Tavio, give this lovely young lady your card." Bertrand’s voice was like silk. "You should intern for me this summer. City Hall could use a young woman with such compassion."
She giggled and ... was that a swoon? He was old enough to be her grandfather!
I heard Babe snort behind me. "The election isn't for three more days. He's not in the Mayor's office yet."
With a turn, Bertrand dismissed the co-ed and faced me and a fuming Babe.
"Babette," he said with a cold smile. "Feisty, as ever."
"Shut up, Ami," she scowled.
"Babette," Tavio was sharp. "Be polite."
"I don't take orders from you, cabrón." She lingered a bit on the Spanish insult, which literally translated to goat. I heard Cookie Puss hiss from under the bar, where she was twirling around Babe's ankles.
Tavio stepped towards Babe, his lip raised in a snarl. I jumped when I saw the white fang peeking just under his raised lip. Frankie noticed it too, and he moved closer to Babe.
Bertrand laughed and touched Tavio's arm to hold him back. "She's right, my friend. The last time we saw her, you were an old goat."
Bertrand smiled at me. "Lovely to see you again, Nina."
The hairs on my neck stood on end. This guy gave me the creeps.
My vampire ears picked up the sound of Alfonso muttering in a weird language that sounded something like Latin but not quite. Tavio was staring at him.
"What can we do for you, Mr. Bertrand?" My voice was polite but measured, as I tried to ignore Al's chanting.
"I paid a visit to Mr. Deveroux today, to see how the investigation was going." He looked around warily. "Did you have Last Call yet?"
Babe raised her eyebrows. It was barely midnight. We wouldn't do last call for another hour.
"Call it," Bertrand didn't let go of Babe's eyes. "Now. We need to talk."
Babe scowled but she rang the last-call bell. The crowd groaned and a few complaints were hollered.
"Blame me, my friends!" Bertrand called out. His voice rose above the din. "Important election business tonight, and I wanted to get out of the office. Last round is on me, for everyone."
An appreciative roar came over the bar, and Babe and I methodically began to refill pitchers and pour out liquor. I went to refresh Al's drink but he put his hand over his glass. "I take no gifts from that hombre maldito."
Our patrons drained their glasses and the place started to clear out. Bertrand stood by the door, still flanked by Tavio and Max, saying good night to every single person as they left. Everyone adored him. Except for us.
When the last customer was out the door, Bertrand turned the dead bolt and he, Tavio and Max sat down at the bar. Bertrand smiled at me again. "I'd love a drink, Nina."
"I got it," Babe said. She reached for one of her unlabeled cobalt bottles on the top shelf.
"As much as I love your moonshine, Babe, I would like Nina to pour me a grappa." He smiled at Babe, but there was no humor in his black eyes.
Babe harrumphed but nodded at me to go ahead. I grabbed the grappa, wiping the dust off the bottle, and poured it out into a shot glass. I heard Tavio sniff, disapproving of my glassware choice. Babe shot him daggers with her eyes.
Bertrand smiled at me once more. "Thank you, Nina."
Then he just stared. It was the kind of stare that sent shivers up my spine. I raised my eyebrows.
"Forgive me for staring, Nina," he said, finally looking away. "But you look so much like your mother."
Tavio nodded in agreement. "So much."
Before I could stop myself, I gasped. Babe gripped my arm.
"You knew my mother?" I placed my hands on the bar to steady myself. I felt Frankie move in closer.
"Of course I knew your mother!" Tavio’s accent was thick. "You know nothing about your family?"
"My family? My family was murdered," I spat out and turned on my heel, grabbed the tequila and headed to Alfonso. I poured both of us a shot.
Al raised his glass, winked and smiled. "To your new family." He downed the shot and looked at Tavio through watery eyes. "Ego lingua, ego spiritum, ego lingua, ego spiritum."
Tavio gripped his throat and began to cough and sputter. He looked up, his face contorted. He opened his mouth and an engorged purple tongue flopped out.
Frankie grabbed his throat as well, but was smart enough to move swiftly away, crossing the bar in less than a second. He stood behind Al, out of reach from whatever spell Al was throwing.
"Enough, witch!" Bertrand's eyes were black slits, and his voice reverberated, rattling the bottles on the shelves that ran up the walls behind the bar. Several glasses fell, breaking into shards when they crashed at my feet.
Alfonso looked at Tavio grimly. "Silentio Lamia." And then he released whatever hold he had on the man. Tavio's tongue rolled back into his mouth, shrinking to normal size as it retracted.
"That was powerful, witch," Bertrand said with a smirk. "I hope you can teach that to Nina. It's more effective than your usual parlor tricks."
Alfonso gripped the bottle of tequila I left in front of him and poured out a double shot. Looking defeated, he slammed that back. Tavio eyed him warily.
"Your friends are protective of you," Tavio said, refocusing his attention on me. "Your father would be proud."
It was my turn to yell, but it didn't have quite the same impact as Bertrand's booming voice. "Why don't you explain, Mr. Tavio? How you know my parents?"
A collective hiss went up between Babe and Alfonso. I silenced them both with a raise of my hand.
"Your father was my brother," Tavio beamed triumphantly. "You are my niece, who I have not seen since you were a baby."
"That's it! This is stopping right now," Babe said. Then she reached under the bar and pulled out a gallon jug of water. It was our stash of Holy Water, which she was getting ready to dump on Tavio.
"Wait," I said. I grabbed hold of the jug, splashing a bit on my hand. It met my skin with a soft sizzle, and steam rose up from where the water landed. "I didn't think anyone from my father's side survived."
"They didn't," Babe looked fiercely between me, Tavio and Bertrand. "He's an abomination, even worse than the vampire he is."
Max, who had been sitting quietly at a table against the wall, got up suddenly. "He's a vampire, too?" He looked incredulous, and slightly defeated.
"Yeah, you can't get much more abominable than that," I crossed my arms and leaned against the wood, my eye
s darting between Max, Tavio, Bertrand and Babe. Frankie, who was now behind me, let out a low whistle.
I know Babe didn't mean to call me or Frankie abominations, but the word still stung. It was true. We were crimes against nature, which was why witches hated vampires. Or part of the reason, anyway. But dammit, Frankie and I did so much good with our curse. I hated having to justify our worth.
Tavio smiled, Cheshire Cat-like. "Watch it, Babette. Nina has our temper."
"You know nothing about my niece," her voice cracked.
"Our niece," he corrected her. "You ran off with her before our side could claim her."
"What the frig is this, the goddamn 15th century? Nobody has any claim on me!" I slammed my fists down on the bar, and the wood cracked. "SHIT! Sorry, Babe."
"No worries, honey," Babe's eyes were focused on Tavio. “We’ll fix it.”
Tavio just laughed. "Yes, see! Just like my brother."
"Who are you?" I turned my wrath toward him. The vamp kicked in, and I was across the bar before anyone could blink. I faced off with him squarely.
Bertrand sipped his grappa, his face like stone. "We are your friends. And friends help each other."
"Help each other what?" I eyed him warily. I wasn't sure I liked where he was going.
"This city seems to have a pest problem," he continued, his voice like ice. "This witch killer is screwing up my campaign and I want him dealt with."
Max stood up suddenly. "Wait -- witch killer? You know who is committing these murders, Bertrand?"
"Of course I do, human," Bertrand said defensively. He looked at Max, his eyes completely coal black, the whites gone.
Max smartly took a step back. Then he not so smartly reached for his gun.
Bertrand looked at him lazily. "Put that away before you hurt yourself."
But Max got off a shot before Bertrand finished his sentence. It hit Bertrand square in the chest, but nothing happened except for a circular scorch mark marring his luscious white coat.
Bertrand looked down at the charred hole in his coat. He scratched at it, the black gunpowder smearing slightly.
"This was my favorite coat," he said, flicking his wrist and waving his hand at the gun. Max yelped and dropped it. His hand was burned where it gripped the weapon. Bertrand turned it molten.
