by Karen Greco
"You know, I always thought the mark of a civilized dinner was a cloth napkin," Frankie said, ignoring Max. "Which is why I don't like having dinner with you, the fast-food queen. You've never met a drive-through you didn't like."
"You don't even eat anymore," I retorted, and then called down to Max. "Do you know what other days the linen truck comes out?" My voice was drowned out by the howl of a wolf.
I froze at the sound. It wasn't a natural howl.
"Bullocks," Frankie swore, eyes scanning the landscape for the beast.
"Does Leila have any werewolves on the payroll?" I called down to Max.
He shook his head. "How would I know?"
How indeed. Max was new at this supernatural stuff. Spotting a werewolf that wasn't transformed was hard, even for us veterans.
"If it's a turned werewolf, it'll sniff us out," Frankie said. "Best to shimmy down now, I think."
He unhooked the belt and dropped down, landing on his feet without even a thud. My route to the ground was more traditional. And plodding. When I hit the halfway mark, a Humvee roared through the abandoned lot. Floodlights from the tricked out military vehicle turned the dark spot into the Vegas strip.
The high pitch of an electrified megaphone assaulted my ears before a disembodied voice shouted out his order. "Don't move. Put your hands up."
"Which is it?" I called, dangling on the pole. "Hands up or not moving?"
"Get your ass down to the ground," the voice bellowed.
I inched down the pole at a snail's pace, delaying the inevitable showdown with whomever was at the other end of that bullhorn.
When my feet touched dirt, I turned to find Max and two corrections officers from the prison by the hood of the Humvee, wrapped up in quiet conversation. Max's voice sounded calm as he tried to diffuse the situation.
"What are they saying?" I mumbled to Frankie while unhooking the buckle of the lineman's belt. It dropped from my waist and I held it lose in my right hand, like a whip. Just in case.
"Something about trespassing. Max gave them some story about already checking our credentials. Said he was keeping an eye on us anyway. He's handling it well."
Frankie's jealousy normally didn't allow for such generous praise for Max. Even though whatever happened between Max and me before wasn't likely to reignite anytime soon, Frankie still carried on around him like a scorned lover. And our "whatever happened" didn't go much beyond a date that ended with me accidentally conjuring a tsunami during a psychic battle with my mother's psycho vampire lover. Then the guy took a demon charm for me, which turned him from human to Berserker. A second date never materialized. Shocking, right?
Raucous laughter came from the two military men. One clapped the other's back, and then I heard one of them say something to the effect of "the girl can tie me up with that belt" followed by another lewd comment about my anatomy.
Frankie's eyes glowed, and he exposed his formidable fangs. I pressed my hand against his chest to hold back his advancement and saw that Max had the guy by the collar, feet lifted off the ground. Then Max punched him. The guard flew over the hood of the Humvee and smashed into the windshield. The impact left a crack the shape of Texas in the glass.
I turned to see Max's body buffed up. His thigh muscles exploded through his pants, and his arms and shoulders burst out of his t-shirt.
"Max, no!" I yelled.
The cock of a gun drew my attention to guard number two. He waved the Glock and backed away, looking between a Hulked out Max, Frankie, whose eyes were still glowing, and me. "What the hell are you people?"
I opened my mouth to try to babble our way out of this but he reached into the Humvee and pulled out the mouthpiece for the radio, gun still leveled at us. Before I could spring forward to get the radio out of his hands and keep myself between him and Berserker Max and Vampire Frankie, he dropped both the mouthpiece and the gun. His hand clawed at his own throat and it sounded like he was aspirating. When he opened his mouth, blood poured out.
"What the hell?" Frankie said, and I noticed he kept space between himself and the guard, whose front was now covered with blood. The scene reminded me of something we encountered a few months back, when Beta-Vamps were given a blood supply tainted with deadly opiates. The end result was a gruesome death of exploding bodies that looked eerily similar to the scenario unfolding in front of us. Frankie was poisoned, but we were able to find a cure before he erupted like the others. I wasn't surprised that he kept his distance here. I did too.
A half-transformed Max, however, stomped towards the car, following the periphery of the brush. I breathed a small sigh of relief that he wasn’t fully Berserked. It meant that he was still in control of his cognitive skills and able to recognize his allies. A full-on Berserker was just a dangerous mass of rage. His eyes darted to a cluster of trees in the not-too-far distance and he made a grunt, nodding his head towards the foliage.
The guard who was sprawled on the hood of the Humvee came to. He saw his colleague on the ground, coughing up blood. He sat up. His unsteady movements told me he was still groggy from Max's punch. His gun came out and before I could shout a warning, he shot the choking guard right through the throat. Then he placed the gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger.
The echoes of the two gunshots in succession faded and we were left only with sound of Max's labored breathing as he tried to un-Hulk himself.
"What the hell just happened?" I whispered. My hands shook from the adrenaline. I squeezed them together to stop the tremors.
Max's muscles were about halfway to normal and he pointed into the field. A figure moved from behind a cluster of trees, and the light from the nearly full moon flooded his face. My grandfather.
"What the hell is he doing here?" I asked no one in particular.
Frankie responded anyway. "Saving the day, apparently?"
"You know we would have gotten out of that," I said. "Bullets? I mean, really. We've dodged worse."
Frankie picked up a bullet casing off the ground. His fingers sizzled and he dropped the small piece of metal before it burned into his hand.
"Holy water soaked silver," he said. "We would have survived but that would've hurt like a bastard."
"They would have gotten away," my grandfather said, walking straight into our conversation.
"So they deserved to die?" Max grunted out. He was nearly himself again, his tattered clothes hanging on his slighter frame. "Who the hell are you?"
"Teddy Martinez," Gramps grunted back. "They'da gotten away and told Leila. And since she hasn't rounded your ass up yet, I assume she don't know about you, Berserker. I did you all a favor."
Max rubbed his hand through his hair and looked at me. "Martinez?"
I nodded and flashed a sheepish smile. "Max, meet my grandfather."
"Jesus, how many of you are there?" he asked.
I sat on the bumper of the Humvee and made a conscious choice not to be offended. For someone orphaned as a baby, then left on Blood Ops’ doorstep, plenty of long-lost family was crawling out of the woodwork lately. "I'm beginning to ask myself the same question."
"We should talk about this someplace else," Max said, glancing around the still night. "Those gun shots are sure to bring others out here."
"And we do what with the bodies?" Frankie asked.
"Leave 'em," Gramps said.
"But if they find bodies—" I started.
"Murder-suicide," he said. "Maybe they were lovers."
I scratched at my scalp, tense from tonight's action-packed stakeout and the tight braid holding back my unwieldy hair. "You murdered them."
Gramps shrugged. "You gotta think about the big picture, Nina. What good would it do Dr. O if you were dead?"
I followed Frankie and Max to our utilitarian van, not bothering to answer. He was right. They would have reported everything to Leila, our plan scuttled. And Leila would have known about Max, a secret we were all desperate to keep.
My grandfather reached for my shoulder, holdin
g me back from the others. He nodded at Max. "That one reeks of demon magic."
"That's because a demon did that to him," I said.
He pushed a hand through his silver hair. "So Bertrand's in town."
I stopped and turned to face him. "Wait. You know Bertrand?"
"I know him. And I know his magic," Gramps said, sniffing at the air.
I took a step to the side, my discomfort at his proximity growing. "So he's a friend of yours?"
"Not friend, exactly."
"But not enemy?"
My grandfather just smiled, and I noticed he was missing a tooth. "Go on with Frankie."
"What about you?" I asked, my eyes trained on a mass of bodies with glowing flashlights. They were crossing the prison parking lot and headed for the deserted street between us and the prison.
"I'll catch up with you later," he said, stepping into the shadows. "I got my own places to be."
6
Whiskey soaked ice clinked into the glass when Al spit out the piece he was sucking. "Linen service? What the hell is that place, the Four Seasons?"
"People need to change their sheets," Eva chimed in. "Leila would let them change their sheets, right?"
"I guess if she's a neat freak," I snapped, rolling my eyes. "Sure, let's add neat freak to the list that includes murderous psychotic witch vampire hybrid."
Frankie reached under the table and gave my knee a squeeze. "Eva, I don't think that Nina can say for sure if Leila would allow the prisoners to change their sheets. Or if she even gives them sheets. Remember, up until a few months ago, Leila was dead. And Nina never knew her."
Eva's face dropped. "Oh jeez, of course. I really stuck my foot in it this time."
"You sure did," Al grumbled.
"It's okay, Eva," I said, watching the cringe slip from her face at my forgiveness. "I know you didn't mean anything by it. I'm going to get a root beer. Anyone want anything?"
I darted to the bar and checked the small fridge under the counter. Three root beers left. "Hey, Darce, any word on any shipments from our suppliers?"
She pulled her eyes up from the paltry number of the night's receipts in front of her. "We have no suppliers. If I get them on the phone, they yammer on and on about Babe being a witch, and how scared they are to come here."
"How do you even get them to talk to you?"
"I pretend I'm human and tell them there was no way Babe was a witch. That I never once saw her twitch her nose and see something strange happen," she said, not quite meeting my eyes. Still, I understood completely why she did that. It was easier to go along sometimes. She brightened. "Although the Clown Shoes dude said he'd pop by later in the week, maybe. If he can find the place."
"Hallelujah! Beer," Al said, clapping his hands together. "Even if it's that crap. You've been dry for too long."
"We've been out of beer less than 24 hours," I pointed out to the drama king, returning to the table with my soda. "But don't get your hopes up, Al. If the distributor does show up, he still needs to find the place. If he's human, he won't see through the wards."
"Can't you take them down?" he asked. "Not forever. Just for him."
"No."
Al gave me a sour look.
Ignoring him, I took a pull from my soda bottle. The carbonation tickled my nose. "It's not like I have paying customers anyway," I added.
"I pay," he barked.
"You run a tab. That's different."
Darcy propped her chin in her hand. "The bar won't go under, will it?"
"The building is owned free and clear," I said. "And I have enough from my inheritance to cover inventory for a long while." One of the perks of being fathered by a several centuries old vampire was the accumulated wealth that came with his age. Relief flooded Al's face. "That is, if we can get inventory," I added, watching his smile fade fast.
"Can we go back to the linens now?" Frankie asked, glancing at the clock. "It is getting on 4 a.m., and Matty is still upstairs playing video games."
Unlike Frankie, Matty wasn't charmed by Bertrand to handle sunlight, even though his father, my Uncle Tavio, was the demon's right-hand man. A demon charm would kill a Beta-Vamp.
"You can put him in the basement," Darcy suggested.
I pursed my lips. "The last time I did that, he said I'd — and I quote — rue the day."
"You know he didn't mean it," she said.
"Right now, I don't need a rock star level meltdown about something as ridiculous as his beauty rest. What vampire needs beauty rest? There's too much at stake for him to behave like a spoiled brat."
"He's just used to being treated a certain way by the people that surround him. He's lived in a bubble—"
"Shit, Nina, your eyes are getting all glowy again," Al said. That's when I felt my fangs slice into my gums.
"Oh my god, Nina. Are you vamping out on me?" Darcy asked.
I gripped the edge of the table and took in a shaky breath. "Darcy, you know I can't control this."
"What set her off?" Eva asked. With my body adjusting to this all out assault from the transformation, she sounded miles away. I shut my eyes and willed my body to behave.
"Matty set her off," Frankie said, his voice kind of echoing through me.
"But he's not even here," Darcy protested.
"The very idea of him sets her off," he clarified.
"She's practically foaming at the mouth," Al interjected.
My eyes snapped open and locked onto Frankie. "Don't panic, love," he said, taking my hand and holding it up. "See? No talons yet."
A familiar pop, centered on my head, broke through the vampiric haze. "Damn, girl." Casper's familiar voice flooded me with relief. "You just can't be without me for more than 24 hours."
I grinned until I felt a sharp fang pierce my lower lip. "Ouch!" I cried out.
Casper's chant filled my head. "Raíz de mi cuerpo a la tierra, el viento, el fuego, el agua. Yo soy el poder, yo soy el brujo. Por el poder del brujo, suelte el mal en esta mujer."
Every muscle in my body seized as Casper’s spell took hold, ordering the vampire to release its hold. Frankie caught me before I dropped to the floor. Pain seared deep into my bones. The vampire magic rooted in my DNA was fighting Casper's spell. Breath rushed out of me while he repeated it.
"She doesn't look so good," I heard someone say. I think it was Darcy.
Frankie shoved the half-empty bottles and glasses aside and laid me out on the table. Then the convulsions started.
"What do we do?" Eva cried, her voice evidence of her rising panic. "Will the holy water help?"
I heard the jug of holy water that I kept behind the bar slosh closer to me. I released on unnatural shriek as a stream of water splashed out and hit my torso. Pain seared through me while the smell of burning flesh filled my nose.
"Get that poison away from her," Frankie yelled. "She's not demon possessed, woman." I felt him rip at my top, tearing my t-shirt off. The cotton strings ripped through my skin where they’d been embedded as my body healed itself immediately after being scorched from the blessed water.
Casper's voice surged through me as he once again repeated the chant. My body still didn't allow me to react, to beg him to stop. Not that he would. The vampire needed to be brought under control, and that’s exactly what his spell was doing.
My body seized once more and then shuddered in blissful release. I winced at the lingering pain from the holy water burn on my stomach as my inner vampire receded.
"You all right?" Frankie asked as he helped me sit up. His understated behavior was betrayed by the mix of worry and relief that flowed from him. He was doing a lousy job blocking our bond, which meant he was rattled.
I pressed my hand against my stomach. The holy water burns still smarted. "Yeah, I'm fine."
"You're totally not fine," Casper scolded, calling out my fib.
"I'm fine," I grumbled again, this time at Casper. The entire room looked at me, puzzled. I pointed to my head.
"Ah," Frankie sa
id. "So our ghost saved the day again, did he? Please convey our thanks. One day I hope to meet him."
That buoyed Casper's spirits so much that I thought he'd forget to harp on me for not controlling my ability to turn. It was short-lived.
"You know, you are just like Max," Casper continued, rubbing salt in the holy water wound. "You are always nagging on him to control his Berserker—"
"I don't nag," I interrupted.
He ignored me. "—and you can't even control your vampire, and you've been this way your whole life."
"You haven't known me my whole life," I grumbled.
"Whatever," he said, forcing my arm to move in a talk-to-the-hand gesture.
I gripped my forearm with my other hand and yanked it back down. I hated it when he took over my body. It set my fangs on edge.
"It hasn't happened like this before," I said, keeping my voice low while everyone around me cleaned up the broken glass and puddle of holy water spreading out on the wood floor.
"And it's getting worse," Casper continued. "You need to figure out your shit, girl. Because I can't follow you all the time to fix these things. Not now, anyway."
He was right. It wasn't safe for him to be darting around while I went off around the city half-cocked. Ghost exorcisms were as regular as getting a Dunkin Donuts coffee to start the day, and just as public. He was only safe at the bar, or at his moms. Before I could respond to him, my grandfather careened in through the front door.
"I felt tremors three miles away," he grumbled. "You nearly started a goddamn earthquake. What the hell happened to you?"
"Nothing," I lied. “And I didn’t try any spells.”
“Really, you sure?” Gramps asked, his eyes now on Eva and Darcy as they paused their cleanup effort.
“Yes I am sure,” I said, leaving it at that.
Frankie shot me a dirty look. “She was vamping out. She can’t throw a spell and vamp at the same time. So it couldn’t have been her.”
Casper harrumphed in my head while Gramps paced around the table, eyeing me with suspicion. “You pushed out the vampire using magic then.”
I clutched my torn top over the burn mark on my exposed stomach. The room was silent as my friends watched, anticipating a showdown between Gramps and me.
