by Judith Post
Virgine shivered, and even Lillith looked unnerved. “It’s been a long time since I met one of those.”
Babet glanced at Virgine. “I never have. Have you?”
The girl’s shoulders hunched, as though she were trying to pull in on herself. “Only once. One tried to call me to him. It was awful.”
“You?” Babet stared. “But you’re an undead. He’d have no control over you.”
“Control, no. Pull, yes. The part of me that died felt compelled to go to him.”
Babet had never considered a necromancer’s influence over the undead. But why would anyone try to control Virgine? She tried to put that question delicately. “Why you? What did he hope to accomplish?”
“My sire was very powerful. The necromancer hoped to use me to manipulate him. As far as the world knew, I’d died as Beltran’s servant.”
Babet shrugged. She’d met enough vampires to know that most cared little for mortals. Less for a servant. “The necromancer must have been awfully naïve.”
“Not really.” Virgine chose her words carefully. “Beltran took me in off the streets and showed me great kindness.” She cleared her throat. “I believe my mother was his mistress before her death.”
“So he thought of you as a daughter?”
Virgine blushed a bright red. “It’s possible he did father me.”
“I thought vampires couldn’t reproduce.”
“He sent my mother to a mortal….” Virgine’s words trailed off. She clearly didn’t want to talk about it. “Sort of as a surrogate.”
“And your mother?” Babet asked. “She died?”
“In childbirth.”
Babet stared. “Who raised you?”
“The mortal, when I was a baby. But I displeased him when I was eight, and he tossed me out of his house.”
“Was the man an idiot?” Babet couldn’t imagine defying a powerful vampire who’d asked him for a favor. She leaned back in her chair, unsure what to think. She’d love to delve into this story. It had to be interesting, but she forced herself back to the problem of the moment. “What happened when the necromancer summoned you?”
“I went, but he couldn’t control me.”
“So you left?”
“No, Beltran found us and destroyed him, but the incident worried him, so he sent me to the United States, to Lillith, so that fewer people would know who I am.”
Babet suddenly understood why Virgine hated attention. The girl wanted to stay as anonymous as possible. And she genuinely seemed to enjoy the role of servant over master. “Did this necromancer try to summon you?”
“No, as far as I can tell, he’s never heard of me. But he’s summoning others. There are too many dead strays.”
Babet frowned. She turned her attention to Lillith. “Have you dealt with a necromancer before?”
A small smile played on Lillith’s lips. “Dealt with? No. Tasted? Yes. If I can drain life energy from ordinary mortals, imagine how delicious a caller of the dead might taste.” She licked her full lips. “So many nuances and flavors.”
“Could you drain this one?” Babet asked.
“I don’t indulge anymore. Today, I’m a respectable business woman. I won’t do anything to taint my reputation.”
Fair enough. Babet rose to her feet. “I understand, and I want to thank you for sharing your information.”
Lillith’s voice turned cold. “Find this death dealer and finish him off. He won’t do River City any favors.”
The real reason Lillith was being so generous to her was that she wanted the necromancer gone as much as the rest of them did.
* * *
The interior of Babet’s car felt like a furnace. She should have left the windows down, not just cracked. Not that it would have made too much difference. Even Morgana looked hot. Babet slid behind the steering wheel, but couldn’t touch it. It would have burned her hands. Turning on the car’s engine, she cranked up the air conditioner. While she sat in the sweltering heat, she flipped open her cell phone to call Mom. She quickly explained what she’d learned from Lillith, and then repeated the same information when she called Prosper.
By the time she finished talking, even with the door wide, she felt as though she’d melted. When the cool air finally kicked in, she tilted the vents to blow directly on her. Aaah. A little better. She touched the steering wheel. Bearable. It was a short drive from Lillith’s to her small bungalow. Her top stuck to her by the time she parked in her own drive. She grabbed the material and pulled if off her damp skin before entering the house. Morgana hurried behind her. Even the snake was overheated.
They both relaxed when they stepped into their home’s air conditioning. Babet went to the sink and poured herself a tall glass of water. She was draining her second one when Prosper’s car pulled to the curb in front of her house. He hurried inside.
“Damn, it’s hot out there.”
Babet glanced to the sidewalk, a short distance from her front door. Tourists straggled from one shop to the next, braving the heat. “So what do you think of Virgine’s news? A necromancer working in the river district? Is it possible? There are so many tourists, you’d think someone would notice.”
Prosper raised an eyebrow. “You’d be surprised what you find a little away from town and the shops. There are rundown areas on the fringes and rundown people who live in them.”
An old, abandoned church sprang into Babet’s mind. She’d noticed it often on her way in or out of the city. It was on the fringes of town in a neighborhood that had lost its battle with poverty. There’d be altars. Crosses. Religious talismans. “I was thinking of the hustle and bustle by the restaurants, but you’re right. The river keeps going. So do the neighborhoods and buildings.”
“It’s a big area, not easy to canvas. It could take days to search for the right place.” Prosper headed to her kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and took out a beer.
Babet thought about that. “Maybe we won’t have to. Vampires are quicker and stealthier than we are.”
Prosper took a long draw on his beer before he answered. “And you have one that might help you?”
“Remember the P.I. vampire that Emile hired?”
Prosper grimaced. “Yeah, he couldn’t even find Evangeline.”
“That’s different. He was dealing with witches. No respectable witch is going to open up to a vampire she’s never met before, especially one sent by Emile.”
Prosper drained the bottle and went to toss it in the trash.
“Not that one. The recycle bin’s just outside the door.”
With a sigh, he opened the kitchen door and tossed it in with the other glass.
“Who knew that one day supernaturals would go green?”
“Hey, we love the planet too.” Babet went into the living room and sagged onto one of its leather sofas. The cool surface made her moan.
“That’s the noise you make for me,” Prosper grumbled.
“Right now, you can’t compete with how good this leather feels.”
He came to drop onto the couch across from her. He groaned too.
“See?” She was silent a moment, then said, “I’ll go visit Vittorio at his tattoo parlor after the sun sets.” He’d be asleep now.
“And then you’ll come back here?” His voice had an odd edge to it.
Babet frowned. “What? Are you worried he’ll try to bite me? Vampires are more afraid of witches than we are of them.”
“He’s the tall, hunky vamp with all the tattoos and piercings, right?”
Babet grinned. “Are you worried he’ll glamour me and I’ll run away with him?”
“Vamps are known for their magnetism,” Prosper growled.
“And this one prefers men to women,” Babet said.
Prosper smiled. “In that case, I’ll be here when you get back. I’ll bring the crab cakes I promised, and you can tell me what you learned.”
“Crab cakes.” Babet licked her lips. “Works for me.”
Prosper pried himself off th
e couch. “I have a pile of paperwork waiting for me at the station.” He glanced at Morgana, expecting the snake to show sympathy. No such luck. The boa didn’t even budge. It had been a long, hot day. She’d lost interest in them. “See you tonight.”
Babet smiled as she watched him walk toward the door.
He turned, caught her, and frowned. “What’s the deal?”
“Just enjoying the view. Your backside’s pretty glorious.”
He laughed, ducked out the door, and drove away. She wandered into the kitchen. She decided to make a salad to go with tonight’s crab cakes. Partly, because it sounded good. Partly, because when she was restless, cooking helped settle her nerves.
By the time an antipasto salad marinated in the refrigerator, she felt better. They were making progress. Tonight, she’d visit Vittorio and hopefully, vamps would help them scour the city to look for their new arrival. Vamps could cover a lot of distance in a short time. Once they found their necromancer, they could decide what to do about him.
Chapter 2
The sun didn’t set until after ten in the summer. Babet was struggling to keep her energy up and was less than enthusiastic about venturing outside again. Even in the gathering dusk, the city was warm and muggy.
“Quit being a baby,” she told herself and headed to the door. Morgana raised her head and lowered it again. The damn snake was staying inside where it was cool. Grumbling, Babet walked toward the artsy area of the city to find Vittorio. Cars lined the streets. People milled on the sidewalks. She’d made the right choice. There wasn’t one parking space to be had.
She turned onto Granite Boulevard and headed to the brick building with the huge dragon painted on its front bricks. A popular tattoo design. There were no windows on the bottom story—only two, long, narrow windows on the second floor. Vamps didn’t love sunlight. The sign on the door read Open, so she let herself in.
Vittorio scowled when he saw her. The customer he was working on scowled too. They both sniffed. “Witch,” Vittorio growled.
The young Latino getting a tattoo looked her up and down. He smiled, sprouting fangs. “Do they taste good?”
“You won’t live long enough to find out.” Babet turned her attention to Vittorio.
The Latino must be newly changed because he sprang from his chair and flew toward Babet’s neck before she could blink. She muttered a spell, and he flew across the room and hit the back wall hard enough to knock the air out of him. He slumped on the floor and blinked up at her. “How did you do that?”
“She’s a witch, idiot!” Vittorio shook his head. “He’s still young. Has a lot to learn. Wants MOMMA tattooed on his arm.”
Babet took the time to study him. Probably in his late twenties when he was drained. She wondered who’d sired him, but wasn’t interested enough to ask. Whoever it was hadn’t taken the time to teach him much. “It’s tough learning the ropes. Here’s some advice, though. Witches won’t attack you, but you won’t survive if you attack them. Only old, powerful vampires are a threat to us.”
The kid gave a quick nod, picked himself off the floor, and returned to his seat.
Vittorio raised an eyebrow. “Are you done coddling him? I’m thinking you came here for a reason. Unless you want a tat, too.”
She hesitated. Was he being witty? She looked at his low slung jeans, bare upper body—muscled and covered in ink. Nope, no way. Word play wasn’t his strong point. She got down to business. “A necromancer’s come to River City. I want to find him.”
Vittorio put down his tattoo machine. “That might explain it.”
“Explain what?”
He ran a hand through his shoulder-length, sandy-colored hair. “I never drain anyone, okay? I have plenty of mortals who want me to drink from them. The vamp high. You know. But there’s a vamp in town who loses it once in a while and has to hunt. He was stalking the river walk and this girl comes flying out from between some buildings. He takes her down. Empties her. She should be dead. But before he leaves, she opens her eyes, pushes herself to her feet, and takes off again.”
Babet raised an eyebrow. He’d added everything up really fast. He was probably a better P.I. than she thought.
He spread his hands in a careless gesture. “What can I say? Playing dumb works in my favor more often than not.”
“I know better now. You can save your shtick for someone else.”
He gave a quick nod. “But what do you think? Was the girl raised by the necromancer? If you kill a dead person a second time, can he raise her again?”
“He can raise his chosen as often as he has the energy to empower them.” Babet chewed on her bottom lip, thinking. “Did your friend say what the girl looked like? Did she have white-blond hair?”
Vittorio gave a pointed look to his client. “Well? Was she a blonde, Jesus?”
Babet’s hands went to her hips. She glared. “You killed a girl?”
Jesus looked down, avoiding her gaze. “I fight for control every day, but I’m new. It’s hard.”
“Your sire did a shitty job of training you.”
“He was new too. He didn’t survive very long.”
So that was the reason Jesus had so little control. “Won’t someone adopt you? Work with you?” Babet asked.
Jesus tilted his head toward Vittorio. “He’s agreed to take me under his wing, to help me out. He’s not thrilled about it, but at least, I finally have a protector.”
Babet frowned. Why did a new vampire need a protector?
Vittorio’s shoulders sagged. “Playing nursemaid to a newbie isn’t going to help my reputation, but new vampires don’t last long in our world. Older, stronger vamps can challenge them, take their strength.” He placed a possessive hand on Jesus’ shoulder.
Babet narrowed her eyes. The gesture looked more reassuring than sexual. “Are you really gay?”
Vittorio threw back his head and laughed. “Yup, and that will help me. I can tell everyone that I like my new lovers young and inexperienced.” He nodded toward Jesus. “He’s straight, but no one needs to know that. Later, when he’s stronger and smarter, he can say his tastes changed. Vamps do that. No one will question it.”
The vampire world was different than her own. Witches banded together to protect their young. Babet admired Vittorio for his efforts, but she was getting off track. She returned to the subject of necromancy. “Okay, what about the girl Jesus drained? What did she look like?”
“Flaming red hair,” Jesus said. “A nose to remember, hooked on the end. And on the plump side.”
“Not Celeste Moonbeam then.” Babet sighed. “Virgine thought more than one dead witch was called back.”
Vittorio asked, “Are these good witches or bad ones?”
“The worst.” Babet rubbed her forehead, trying to sort through her worries. She licked her lips. “Jesus drained his witch. Does that give him any power over her?”
Vittorio nodded.
“If I were him, I’d stay close to home for a while. The necromancer won’t want to share his pull on her. He’ll see Jesus as a problem, and there’s an easy way to deal with it.”
“Eliminate me?” Jesus gulped. “I already have enough trouble trying to survive.”
“Then stay here. Don’t go to the river walk to hunt.”
Vittorio gave him a stern look. “I can protect you from vampires. When they learn that I’m sponsoring you, they’ll leave you alone. But I can’t help you with witches.”
Babet threw another assessing look Vittorio’s way. “How old are you anyway?”
He smiled. “You have your secrets. I have mine. But I’ll spread the word. If any witches are prowling the river district, I’ll let you know.”
“I have one more question. Did you really try to look for Evangeline for Emile?”
His brow rose. “You witches are a prickly lot. Charm doesn’t go far with you. You close ranks.”
“You had two strikes against you. You’re a vampire, and we all hated Emile.”
“I gathered that.” He shrugged. “I do much better in my own world.”
She believed him. There was much more to Vittorio than his beautiful body and colorful tattoos.
On the walk home, she thought about everything she’d learned. If the necromancer had called up two dead witches, had he called up more? And what did he need them for? On a whim, she dialed her mother’s number. She told her what she’d learned and described the witch that Jesus had drained.
Her mother immediately said, “Tamber Grisly. The Dark Ages. Notorious for her cruelty.”
It was still uncomfortably warm and humid, but Babet shivered. “Worse than Celeste?”
“She makes Celeste look like a puppy.” Her mother paused. “Did you say this Jesus was a new vampire?”
“Yes.”
“He’s marked now. He won’t be undead long. He’ll be real dead.”
Babet didn’t know how to respond. Surely there was something they could do to protect him.
Her mother went on. “Strengthen all the wards on your house and yard. Wear protective charms when you go anywhere. Come to the school tomorrow night. Make it seven. I’m calling the coven together.”
The phone went dead. When Mom thought of something, she followed through on it. She’d be calling each member of the coven now.
When Babet reached her bungalow, light spilled from its front windows. She saw Prosper moving in the kitchen. She’d given him a key to her place, but no drawer or closet space yet. He came to greet her when she let herself in, took one look at her face, and said, “Tell me over dinner. Everything’s better with hush puppies.”
She smiled. He was good at sorting through facts so that they didn’t loom quite so large over her. Morgana slithered to follow her, and they settled in the kitchen. It wasn’t until they’d finished their meal that she remembered the salad in the refrigerator. Oh, well, it could wait. She’d eaten and told Prosper everything she’d learned…again. He’d listened carefully, then said, “It’s time to find our necromancer before he gets too strong. I won’t send my men out, looking for him. They wouldn’t stand a chance. But what if you and I poke around the river district before you meet with your mom?”
