A spike of anger shot up her spine. “Who do you think you are? You can’t tell me what to do! This isn’t some FBI sting where you call all the shots, and I’m not your peon!”
Sam’s face went dark, and as good as she was getting at reading emotions, he was on his last strand of patience. “I’m the guy who knows you have a sister who needs you, Phoebe. If I’m slaughtered—it’ll only hurt my parents for a little while. But they’re self-sufficient, and they don’t need me to take care of them. Penny needs you to take care of her because you’re all she’s damn well got. And don’t forget one little thing. They only know you’re a vampire. You’d be the weakest link. But they don’t know about me or Nina and Darnell. Now quit wasting my time with your bravado. Sit down. Shut up. Do not open that mouth of yours again. You will stay here, Phoebe—even if it means I have to knock you out to do it. Final word.”
Phoebe’s eyes flashed hurt, angry, indignant, but Nina was quick to grab her by the arm, swinging her around with a jolting shake. “Knock it the fuck off, Phoebe. Sam’s right.”
“What good will I be to Penny if I do the ashes to ashes, dust to dust thing?” she shouted, yanking her arm from Nina’s grasp.
For the first time since she’d met Nina, her face had a plea on it, and it stopped Phoebe cold. “Because if Sam finds something to stop this and he doesn’t get out—if I don’t get out—we’ve got Darnell to bring whatever the fuck it is back to you. I did this to you, Phoebe. If anyone bites it, it should be me—it will be me. And if we don’t come back, then you’ve got a shitty job to do. Go see Penny one last time and tell her people who will love the living shit out of her are gonna take real good care of her. You can’t let that happen without seeing her, warning her. She’ll be afraid if you don’t tell her who Wanda and Marty and the others are. I won’t have her afraid, Phoebe. Not anymore.”
Penny. It was the surest way to make her sit up and pay attention. If something happened to her, and she didn’t have the chance to tell Penny, she’d never understand that Phoebe would never leave her if she didn’t absolutely have any choice. She’d rehearsed the going-to-heaven speech a million times when she thought Alzheimer’s was going to rob her of her mind. And she’d been the one to tell Penny their mother was gone in much the same manner.
Phoebe’s eyes instantly went hot and grainy, her trembling fingers ran over them, and her voice hitched when she turned to Wanda. “You’d take care of Penny for me?” The words squeaked from her lips.
Wanda’s eyes, always so clear and alert, were filled with unshed tears. She cupped Phoebe’s face with her soft hand. “Of course I would, Phoebe. We all would. She’d never want for anything. She’ll always, always have us. She’ll have more uncles and aunts than she can shake a stick at, and a grandmother I’ll make sure she knows. She’ll eat pot roast and watch soap operas and the Game Show Network, and Lou will love her to pieces.” The last words were directed at Nina, who lifted her chin and averted her eyes.
“And don’t you worry none ’bout that park,” Darnell said, his voice thick. “Ain’t nobody gonna talk smack ’bout Penny round ol’ Darnell. ’Cause I’ll set their overalls on fire.”
Phoebe reached for Darnell’s hand and brought it to her cheek, closing her eyes. “Thank you,” she managed to whisper. Then her throat became so tight, she could only shake her head. These people didn’t know Penny. They weren’t even really related to Nina—yet, they extended themselves, gave of themselves so selflessly, so openly that if this did all end, Penny would be surrounded by people who weren’t just invested in her physical well-being, but in her soul’s well-being.
Squaring her shoulders, Phoebe manned up, but she still avoided Sam’s eyes. “Okay. You’re right. I’ll stay.”
Nina knocked her in the head with a flat palm and smiled. “Good Barbie. Now quit with the doomsday shit and wish us fucking luck.”
Instinctively, she knew Nina would never stand for a sappy outpouring of emotion—or a long, tearful good-bye. Instead, Phoebe tugged either side of her hoodie, praying she could keep her tone calm and level. “Don’t go and get whacked, okay? It would really suck if you didn’t have the time to like me even more than you already do. And you owe me a game of Mystery Date. Maybe even a Barbie Dream House playdate.” Trailing a finger across her sister’s cheek, she smiled.
Nina grabbed her finger, giving it a gentle squeeze before brushing it off. “I’m never gonna like you, Baby Sister Barbie, and the only thing I owe you is a round of Rock’em Sock’em Robots, so I can vicariously beat your ass without being hassled by the PC paranormals in my life. You need to feed. So go find Arch and get the fuck out of my hair.”
Before taking Phoebe’s hand, Wanda reached for Nina, wrapping one arm around her neck. “You don’t come back? I have to hunt you down in the afterlife. If you think I’m the burr in your saddle now? You don’t want to know me if I have to move heaven and earth to find you in my heels. Got that, Mistress of the Dark? Be safe. And kill those vile bastards.” Pressing her cheek to Nina’s for a mere moment, Wanda closed her eyes and inhaled, then led Phoebe off toward the kitchen.
Sam, bent at the waist, placed a gun in his sock. No matter how angry—no matter how hurt she was that he was going out of his way to extend the life of her punishment for not giving him a chance to explain—no way would he leave here without one last thing.
Placing her hand on his back, Phoebe knelt down in front of him and cupped his face, her eyes filled with so many things she’d like the opportunity to say to him someday. “Don’t go ruining my chance to fall in love with you by kicking the vampire bucket. Got that, Sam McLean?” She didn’t give him the chance to answer. Instead, she pressed a fervent kiss to his lips and rose to follow Wanda into the kitchen without looking back to gauge Sam’s reaction.
It didn’t matter. It only mattered that she’d unabashedly shared her feelings. No one was leaving here without clarity.
Yet, each step she took away from Sam on feet made of lead quite possibly could be the one step that drew her closer to losing him forever.
THEY stood outside the steel and glass walls of O-Tech. Snow had begun to fall in thick flakes, sticking to sidewalks and making visibility low. Heavy drops of moisture slapped at Sam’s face, adding an irritated edge to his pre-mission jitters. Jitters he couldn’t shake.
He’d done this kind of thing a hundred times before. His gun was locked and loaded. He’d gone over the mental version of how this would play out. He’d briefed Darnell and Nina as if they were his own men, with verbal diagrams and orders. They had a loose plan. Who needed a tight one when you were a vampire? The plan didn’t allow for every possible scenario, but statistics and probabilities had to fall further down the list of priorities in light of the imminence of the situation.
The only thing left was to just do it.
Yet, the stakes were much different this time. This time it wasn’t just some hostage’s life on the line—someone he only knew on paper via details and a thorough though impersonal investigation.
It was Phoebe’s life, and in turn, Penny’s future.
And there was no way around the gut-wrenching fear he was fighting with each inch that drew them closer to the end of this chaos. No doubt, these people had to be taken out. No question, he’d have no qualm being the one to do it.
But what if they didn’t find the answer they so desperately needed? What if the heinous death Meredith had suffered was inevitable for Phoebe?
His jaw hardened. Then, by hell, it wouldn’t be before he took out the fuck that was responsible.
Regret stabbed at him. He should have told Phoebe how he felt before he left. He should have pressed his lips to hers one last time—savored the fullness of them. Told her that no matter what, he’d make sure she lived. That he wanted to live, too, so they could explore this new life they had to live together.
But words weren’t something he was good at. Sam the Entomologist was much better at them.
Sam the FBI guy ha
d secrets and private horrors and the occasional night sweats.
Nina clamped a hand on Sam’s shoulder, her face grim. “How much time do we have, Sam? Did Stinky tell you how long it’s been since Alice and Meredith had been turned before they bought the golden ticket? And don’t sugarcoat the end game. Just fucking say it so I know what we’re up against.”
Sam looked at his watch, then down at Nina, his lips a thin line of bleak. “If what Stinky said holds true as far as the records go for us like it did the others? I’ve got a couple of hours max. Phoebe? Maybe another twenty-four. I don’t know how the symptoms begin or if it just blindsides you. But who knows—maybe the strain of this vampire virus has grown stronger in us.” Hopeful, Sam. Very hopeful.
“Or weaker,” Nina spat his fear out loud.
“So we goin’ in to kill—or we just gonna have some fun with them—maybe hand ’em over to the clan?” Darnell asked, cracking his knuckles. “I don’t like the killin’, but I’ll do what we need to to shut ’em down. They know ’bout us—wouldn’t surprise me t’all if they’d give us up to yo superiors to make a deal to save their wussy hides. Cain’t have dat, now can we?” Though it was the truth, Darnell’s face still betrayed his concern over taking another’s life.
It was clear he was pained by the idea. It was all over his round face. An odd predicament for a demon, and if Sam had more time to dwell, he’d ask Darnell how that had come to be.
Instead, Sam ran a hand over the gun at his waist in a familiar gesture. “It’s a case-by-case situation. If you have to take them out, Darnell—do it. Don’t hesitate. They wouldn’t. Nina, you, too.”
“Okay, boss,” Darnell agreed with a grim nod. “So we better get on up in there ’fore somethin’ worse happens. The second you get in there, ya think me up. I’ll be right behind ya.”
Sam’s phone rang, revealing Stinky’s number. “What?” he barked into the phone, ready to jump out of his skin.
The clacking of a keyboard ticked in Sam’s ear. “Cowboy? Meredith Villanueva was a board-certified neurologist—which is why she was in the middle of this shitastrophe, but she wasn’t just a neurologist, she was one of the best spies in the world, if the underground word I’m hearin’ is right. She was CIA. Whatever was goin’ down underneath O-Tech was big.”
A neurologist. Now it was coming together in his mind. The last piece of the how and why she’d been at O-Tech. Even though most of the information was redundant, it only proved to Sam just how valuable Stinky was. “So is this phone call to tell me the CIA’s on its way?” They’d be crawling all over the place, leaving them no chance in hell to find the answers they needed.
Stinky shifted in something Sam guessed was leather by the sharp crinkle. “Naw, man. Relax, Super Spy. No rumblings from the CIA. Trust that. But it won’t be long. She’s gonna miss her date with her handler for tomorrow. And, Cowboy? I still can’t figure out what the hell these Dr. Frankensteins are doing. This formula’s uncrackable. You had any luck?”
Sam’s eyes went cold. Yeah. Like he’d tell Stinky if he had. He heard the curiosity in Stinky’s voice betray the nonchalance he was hoping to purvey.
The old Stink-man was throwing his line into the lake and hoping to come up with a big trout. One he could brag about during a good geeky-gossip session. Sam kept his voice light and grunted. “Have you seen that chicken-scratch, Stink? I don’t know what any of it means. Guess it’s true what they say about doctors and their handwriting.”
Stinky paused for a moment, as though he didn’t believe Sam, but he let it go. “Right. Doctors. So what’s next, Sam?”
“Next? I go grab a cheeseburger and you shut your face. One word leaks out I was poking around, and your mother’s basement’s going to look like a bloodbath of body parts.”
He sounded an offended snort. “I do not live in my mother’s basement. Jesus. Why does everyone stereotype the brains in an outfit that way? It’s damn unoriginal. I live in my father’s basement, FYI—” Stinky stopped short.
Sam chuckled, giving it a sinister edge. “I’ll remember it’s not your mother’s basement, but your father’s when I come to kill you, Dwight Eugene Tann-en-baummm,” he drawled Stinky’s real name. “Oh, and I’ll do it in Queens. Later, Stink.” Sam clicked the phone off to the tune of Stinky’s mewling, shoving it back in his pocket.
Nina sidled up to him, moving from foot to foot—cagey and cranky. “Will that little shit narc on us? I’ll sniff his brainy ass out and kill him.”
Sam couldn’t worry about that right now. He had to prioritize his uncertainties. Stinky was the least of them. “I won’t make any promises. I don’t kid myself Stinky can’t be bought by the highest bidder, but for right now, he’s too afraid to get overconfident. We need to get in and out before he bleeds into cocky.”
Darnell crossed his arms over his broad chest. “So we ready, boss?”
Sam hesitated again. “I’ll say this one last time. This is dangerous. Stuff doesn’t go down the way it does on TV. I’m trained to do this. If I don’t bring you back alive, Phoebe will hunt me down in the afterlife. I can do this alone.”
Nina was the first to react by flicking his Stetson with a sharp snap. “Fuck you, Sammy. Stop showin’ your ass. Just because you have a gun and some special-op-Navy-Seal-Green-Beret-whatever-the-hell crap on your résumé, doesn’t mean you’re the only one who can kick some nasty booty. I don’t just play a badass on TV. I am a badass. Darnell’s no slacker, either. We’re in, and we don’t come out until we all come out—or we all don’t. Either way, it’s team vampire-demon. So put up and shut up, and lead the fucking way.” She waved her hand at the building.
Darnell slapped Sam on the back and shot him a genuine smile. “What the crazy lady said.”
Sam’s nod was curt, but his appreciation for their loyalty was bigger than he’d ever properly find the words for. “Then we’re in.”
They each turned to make their way to the wall Sam had entered the last time, plodding through the snow, heads down, when Sam’s phone rang again. He ripped it from his pocket and barked, “Jesus Christ, Stinky. What?”
“It’s Harlan, man,” was the thick-drawled response. “I’m gonna say this straight and waste no time, Sam, and then I’m gonna hang up and go hunt down the rat bastards and kill ’em. All of ’em. They got to the kid before I did.”
The click in Sam’s ear, signaling the end of Harlan’s call, was like a sonic boom.
“PHOEBE? I know this is an utterly absurd request, but please, sit down.” Marty, who’d just arrived, patted the place on the couch next to her.
But Phoebe couldn’t rest. She’d paced since Sam and the others had left. Her chest was tight as she went over and over in her head her last moments with Sam. She alternated between that stark image and Penny’s sweet face flashing before her eyes in vivid memory. The conversation between Wanda and Marty flitted in and out of her ears in choppy bits.
Marty rose, setting Muffin on Archibald’s lap, and began to pace with Phoebe. She latched on to her hand, walking back and forth with her, rubbing soothing circles across her skin. “Okay, so bring me up to speed while we wear a path in Sam’s floor, would you, Wanda?”
“Sam has some crazy contact named Stinky …”
Wanda’s retelling of the story became a buzz in Phoebe’s ears while she brought Marty up to date. Bereft, she forced her shaking legs to keep moving while she prayed.
But Marty stopped dead, yanking Phoebe to a halt along with her. “Say again?”
Wanda scooped Muffin up and hugged her tight. “A jewelry box. This secret, crazy, whatever code, formula thing these monsters have was in the bottom of a jewelry box. It’s apparently, in my very crude explanation, a recipe to create a vampire that’s centuries old. A woman, who obviously doesn’t shop at Target, picked it up for a song in North Carolina at an antiques shop. Isn’t that the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard? There’s some urban legend about this jewelry box being a high-dollar, black-market coup. A
ll sorts of billionaires are looking for it. Sick. It’s just vile!”
Marty’s face went ashen. She gripped Phoebe’s hand so tight, it made her wince. “Did you say a jewelry box?”
Wanda bobbed her head. “Look.” She held up her phone. “Sam sent me the picture.”
Marty’s roar was high and keening, her pretty features twisted, her hands at her gut. “Oh, my God, Wanda! Oh, my God!”
Wanda’s expression went from forced calm, to panicked. “What? What’s wrong?”
Marty’s chest heaved as she sank to Sam’s couch. She covered her eyes and sucked in gulps of air with raspy wheezes.
Phoebe knelt in front of her, clasping her wrists. If one of the three least likely to freak paranormals was in freak-mode that meant alarms should be sounded at a DEFCON 5 level. “What, Marty?” she pleaded.
When she lifted her head, her blue eyes were a confection of icy fire. She grasped Phoebe’s hands, squeezing them with such strength, if she could feel the pressure, it would have made her cry uncle. “I know who the bastard is! I know who’s responsible for this!”
Like personally? Phoebe had to wonder. Because wow. It was time to find new social circles to travel in.
CHAPTER
18
“They have Penny?” Nina hissed, her fist held high at her temple.
Sam rolled his shoulders, fighting back the urge to ram a fist of his own through something. “Yes.”
“Well, now, thass fo sho enough, ya feel me?” Darnell roared into the wind, his beefy fists clenched and raised to the sky. “Ol’ Darnell don’t play when they snatchin’ the babies!” His beefy finger pointed in Sam’s direction; his black eyes were chips of granite. “You get yo head together now, Sammy, and you get on in there through that wall. Do it now and think me up. I got me some criminal butt to whoop!”
Sam didn’t speak another word. Yet, his head swam. One phrase ran through his mind over and over. They had Penny. These fucks wouldn’t take the chance Phoebe’d die before she could get to the police. They would do whatever it took to lure her to them and they’d kill her because she knew too much.
Accidentally Dead, Again Page 30
