Halfway to the Grave

by Jeaniene Frost

  “I saw your face when he spoke to you. You went white as a ghost. Knew who it had to be, and I know how hurt you were by it.”

  His soft tone was somehow more pointed than screaming.

  “But what did smashing his hand accomplish? We won’t know if Hennessey or Switch comes tonight. What if one of them do, and they nab someone? Danny isn’t worth a woman’s life because he slept with me and then dumped me!”

  “I love you. You have no idea what you’re worth to me.”

  Again, his voice was low, but this time it vibrated with emotion. Too distracted to drive and talk at the same time, I pulled off the highway and faced him.

  “Bones, I—I can’t say the same, but you mean more to me than anyone else has. Ever. Isn’t that worth something?”

  He leaned over and took my face in his hands. The same fingers that had just crushed and maimed delicately traced my jaw as though it were fine crystal.

  “It’s worth something, but I’m still holding out to hear the other. Do you realize that tonight is the first time I’ve heard someone call you by your real name?”

  “That’s not my real name anymore.” Honestly I felt that way. How vampire of me.

  “What’s your full name? I already know it, of course, but I want to hear you say it.”

  “Catherine Kathleen Crawfield. But you can call me Cat.” This last part was said with a smile because he had never addressed me in any way but one.

  “I think I’ll stay with Kitten.” He smiled back, the tension easing. “It’s what you reminded me of when we met. An angry, defiant, brave little kitten. And every once in a while you’re cuddly like one.”

  “Bones, I know you didn’t want to walk away before at the bar, and if I know you, you’re numbering Danny’s days. But I don’t want his death on my conscience. Promise me you’ll never do it.”

  He gave me a look of amazement. “You don’t still have feelings for that wanker, do you?”

  Apparently we still had some issues to discuss over good killing versus bad. “Oh, I have feelings for him, all right. I’d like to put him in the ground myself, believe me. Still, it would be wrong. Promise me.”

  “Fine. I promise I won’t kill him.”

  He said it too easily. My eyes narrowed.

  “Promise me right here and now that you will also never cripple, maim, dismember, blind, torture, bleed, or otherwise inflict any injury on Danny Milton. Or otherwise stand by while someone else does as you watch.”

  “Blimey, that’s not fair!” he protested.

  Guess it was good I hadn’t just accepted his first agreement. “Promise!”

  He made an exasperated noise. “Fine. Bloody hell. Didn’t I teach you too well to cover all of your bases?”

  “Yes, you did. We can’t go back to the bar now. What do you want to do?”

  He traced a finger across my lips.

  “You decide.”

  A twinge of mischief shot through me. With all of our meticulous research, going through missing persons reports, autopsies, and the general grim task of trying to find a bunch of mass murderers, we hadn’t had much time for lightheartedness. Putting the truck back into gear, I got onto the highway and headed south. After an hour, I pulled onto a gravel road.

  Bones gave me a sideways smile. “Taking a trip down memory lane, are we?”

  “So you do remember this place.”

  “Hard to forget,” he snorted. “This is where you tried to kill me. You were so nervous, you kept blushing. Never had someone try to stake me who blushed so much.”

  I parked within view of the water and unfastened my seat belt.

  “You knocked the living daylights out of me that night. Want to try it again?”

  A breath of laughter escaped him. “You want me to hit you? Blimey, but you do like it rough.”

  “No. Let’s try the other. Maybe you’ll have better results. Want to shag?”

  I managed to keep a straight face, but my lips twitched. A light appeared in his eyes, that beginning of green flame.

  “Still wearing your stakes? Going to make me rest in pieces?” Bones took off his jacket as he spoke, clearly not alarmed in the least.

  “Kiss me and find out.”

  He moved in that lightning-fast way of his, the one I’d seen hundreds of times before but that still managed to surprise me with its suddenness. Bones pulled me to him, tilting my head back and covering my mouth before I blinked.

  “Not much room in here,” he whispered after a long minute. “Want to go outside so you can stretch out?”

  “Oh no. Right here. Love to do it in a truck.”

  His former words rolled off my tongue and he laughed. His eyes glowed pure emerald and when he smiled, fangs protruded from his lips.

  “Let’s find out.”

  After another two weeks of fruitless trolling, we still hadn’t found any trace of Hennessey or Switch. I’d been to every sordid club within a fifty-mile range of Columbus, but with no luck. Bones reminded me that he’d been after Hennessey for the better part of eleven years. Age had taught him patience. Youth had taught me to get frustrated at the lack of progress.

  We were at my apartment, waiting for the pizza I’d ordered. It was a Sunday evening, so we weren’t going out tonight. I had every intention of doing nothing but kicking back now and studying later. Even going to the grocery store had been too much for me, hence the delivery. Whatever I’d inherited from my mother, it hadn’t been her inclination to cook.

  A knock at the door had me glancing in bemusement at the clock. Only fifteen minutes since I’d ordered. My, that was fast.

  Courteously Bones started to get up, but I grabbed my robe and stopped him.

  “Stay there. You’re not eating it anyway.”

  A grin touched his mouth. He could eat solid food, I’d seen him do it, but he didn’t take much enjoyment out of it. He’d once remarked that he did it more to blend in.

  I opened my front door—and then slammed it shut with a cry. “Sweet Jesus!”

  Bones was up in a flash, still naked but now with a knife in his hand. The sight of that made another scream escape me even as there was an annoyed banging on the door.

  “Catherine, what is the matter with you? Open this door!”

  I was thrown into a state of sheer, mindless panic. “It’s my mother!” I whispered fiercely, as if Bones hadn’t figured that out. “Holy shit, you have to hide!”

  I literally shoved him toward the bedroom, yelling, “I—I’ll be right there, I’m not dressed!”

  He went, but with none of my hysteria. “Kitten, you still haven’t told her? Blimey, what are you waiting for?”

  “The Second Coming of Christ!” I snapped. “And not a moment sooner! Here, in the closet!”

  Her knocks were getting louder. “What is taking you so long?”

  “I’ll be right there!” I hollered. Then to Bones, who was giving me a very aggravated look, “We’ll talk about this later. Just stay here and don’t make a sound, I’ll get rid of her as fast as I can.”

  Without waiting for his reply, I shut the closet door with a bang and whirled back around, kicking his clothes and shoes under the bed. God, had he left his keys on the counter? What else could be around for her to find?

  “Catherine!” It sounded like a kick punctuated my name this time.

  “Coming!”

  I flew over to the door and opened it with a broad, false smile. “Mom, what a surprise!”

  She swept past me, more than a little upset. “I drop by to say hello, and you slam the door in my face? What is wrong with you?”

  I wracked my brain to think up an excuse. “Migraine!” I said triumphantly before lowering my voice and affecting a pained expression. “Oh, Mom, I’m glad to see you, but it’s a bad time.”

  She was staring at my apartment with a look of amazement. Uh-oh. How to explain?

  “Look at this place.” Her arms encompassed the small, drastically altered space. “Catherine, where did you
get the money to pay for all of this?”

  Upon first seeing my apartment, Bones had derisively said he was going to slaughter my landlord for daring to charge me money for it. He hadn’t, though from his tone I didn’t think he’d been entirely kidding, but what he had done was furnish it from top to bottom. “All of this” meant the couch he’d bought with a comment that he wanted something to sit on besides the floor, the TV so supposedly I could watch the news to look out for any telltale headlines, the computer for similar purposes, and the coffee table, end tables, and appliances—well. I’d given up by then.

  “Credit cards,” I said instantly. “They’ll give ’em to anybody.”

  She gave me a disapproving frown. “Those things will get you in trouble.”

  I almost laughed out of dementia. If she only knew how I’d really gotten this stuff, she’d forget all about the dangers of high interest rates!

  “Mom, it’s great to see you, really, but…”

  The way she was staring in shock at the bedroom made a chill creep up my spine. I was afraid to turn around. Had Bones ignored my directive and come out?

  “Catherine…is that a new bed as well?”

  I almost sagged in relief. “It was on sale.”

  She came forward and laid a hand on my forehead. “You don’t feel hot.”

  “Believe me,” I said with the utmost sincerity. “At any second, I could throw up.”

  “Well.” She looked around the place once more with that little frown and then shrugged. “I’ll call next time. I thought we could go out to dinner, but…oh, do you want me to bring you in something?”

  “No!” Too emphatic. I softened my tone. “I mean, thanks, but I don’t have an appetite. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  With far less force than I’d used with Bones, I propelled her to the door. She just looked at me and sighed.

  “That headache is making you act very weird, Catherine.”

  I actually pressed my ear to the door after I closed it behind her to make sure she was really gone. Some paranoid part of me thought she’d only pretended and was waiting to fling it back open to catch me with my undead lover.

  A noise made me turn around. Bones stood in the bedroom doorway, dressed now. I managed an uneven, fake laugh that didn’t even resemble humor.

  “Whew, that was close.”

  He stared at me. There was no anger to his expression anymore, and maybe that’s what made me nervous. Anger I could handle.

  “I can’t stand to see you do this to yourself.”

  I regarded him with wariness. “Do what?”

  “Continue to punish yourself for your father’s sins,” he replied steadily. “How long are you supposed to pay for them? How many vampires do you have to kill until you and your mum are squared? You’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever met, yet you’re scared to death of your own mum. Don’t you realize? It’s not me you’re hiding in a closet—it’s yourself.”

  “That’s easy for you to say, your mother’s dead!” I sat on the couch with a huff. “You don’t have to worry if she’ll hate you for who you’re sleeping with, or if you’ll ever see her again if you tell her the truth! What am I supposed to do? Risk my relationship with the only person in my life who’s been there for me? She’ll take one look at you, and all she’ll see is fangs. She’ll never forgive me, why can’t you understand that?”

  My voice broke over the last sentence and I buried my head in my hands. Great. Now I wasn’t faking it. I was getting a migraine.

  “You’re right, my mum’s dead. I’ll never know what she would have thought of the man I’ve become. If she’d be proud…or despise me for the choices I’ve made. I will tell you this, though. If she were alive, I’d show her what I was. All of it. She wouldn’t deserve any less, and quite frankly, neither would I. But this isn’t about me. Look, I’m not insisting to meet your mum. All I’m saying is that sooner or later, you’ll have to come to terms with yourself. You can’t wish away the vampire in you, and you shouldn’t keep atoning for it. You should figure out who you are and what you need, and then don’t apologize for it. Not to me, to your mum, or to anyone.”

  He was at the door before I realized what he was doing.

  “You’re leaving? Are you—are you breaking up with me?”

  Bones turned around. “No, Kitten. I’m just giving you a chance to think about things without me to distract you.”

  “But what about Hennessey?” Now I was using him as an excuse.

  “Francesca still doesn’t have anything concrete, and we’ve struck out searching for him on our own. Won’t hurt to give it a small rest. If anything does come up, I’ll ring you. Promise.” He gave me a last, long look before opening the door. “Goodbye.”

  I heard it shut, but it didn’t register. I sat there for twenty more minutes staring at it, and then magically, there was a knock.

  I leapt up in relief. “Bones!”

  It was a young man in a uniform. “Pizza delivery,” he said with mechanical cheerfulness. “That’ll be seventeen-fifty.”

  In a daze, I gave him a twenty, told him to keep the change, and then shut the door behind him and started to cry.

  Chapter Twenty

  TIMMIE LOOKED AT ME WITH THE MORBID fascination you’d give an unpredictable virus under a microscope.

  “You’re having another pint?”

  I paused with my spoon over the chocolate ice cream, raising a challenging brow.

  “Why?”

  He glanced at the two empty containers near my feet. Or he could have been staring at the bottle of gin balanced next to me on the couch. Whatever.

  “No reason!”

  It had been four days since I’d seen or spoken to Bones. Doesn’t sound that long, does it? Well, it felt like weeks. Timmie knew something was up. Out of courtesy or fear, he hadn’t asked why a certain motorcycle hadn’t been parked in our community driveway lately.

  I went through the motions. Attended classes. Studied feverishly. Ate sugar and junk food until my insulin levels spiked dangerously. But I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t even stand to lie in bed, because I kept reaching out for someone who wasn’t there. I’d picked up the phone a hundred times a day only to drop it before dialing, because I didn’t know what to say.

  Timmie kept me from climbing the walls. He’d come over, watch movies until all hours, talk or not talk depending on my mood, and just be there. I couldn’t have been more grateful, but I still felt alone. It wasn’t his fault that I had to pretend, monitor my speech, and otherwise mask half of myself as usual. No, that wasn’t his fault. It was mine for pushing away the one person who’d accepted me unconditionally, even with all the flaws and oddities of both my halves combined.

  “It’s so true, you know,” he said, nodding at the TV. “They exist.”

  “Who?”

  I hadn’t really been watching, too wrapped up in my inner turmoil.

  “Men in black. Secret government agents whose job is to control and police extraterrestrial or paranormal phenomenon. They exist.”

  “Um,” I said disinterestedly. So do vampires, buddy. In fact, you’re sitting next to one. Sort of.

  “You know, I heard this movie was based on actual events?”

  I gave a cursory glance at the TV and saw Will Smith battling it out with an alien monster. Oh, Men in Black.

  “Could be.” Giant alien cockroaches that preyed on humans? Who was I to scream impossible?

  “You ever going to tell me why you two broke up?

  That got my attention. “We’re not broken up,” I denied immediately, more to myself than to him. “We’re, ah, taking a break to evaluate things, and, um, reexamine our relationship, so…I stuffed him in a closet!” I burst out in shame.

  Timmie’s eyes goggled. “Is he still there?”

  His expression was classic, but my sense of humor didn’t rise to the occasion. “My mother stopped by unexpectedly on Sunday, and I freaked out and shoved him in the closet until she left. A
fter that came the whole ‘evaluate’ thing. I think he’s getting sick of my issues, and what’s worse, I don’t blame him.”

  Timmie had recovered from his earlier misassumption. “Why does your mom hate foreigners so much?”

  How to explain?

  “Well…you know how I said we had something in common because neither of us knew our fathers? Mine’s a little more complicated than yours is. My father was…English. He date-raped my mother, so…she’s hated Englishmen ever since. You know my boyfriend’s English, and I’m, uh, I’m half English, which she’s never been real happy about. If she finds out I’m dating someone English, she’ll, ah, think I’m turning my back on her and becoming…a foreigner.”

  Timmie turned the sound down on the TV. His face twisted with indecision, and then he squared his shoulders.

  “Cathy…that’s the stupidest reason I’ve ever heard.”

  I sighed. “You don’t understand.”

  “Look, your boyfriend scares me,” Timmie went on earnestly. “But if he treats you well and all your mom’s got against him is that he’s English, then I stick to my first response that it’s stupid. Your mom can’t hate a whole country because of one person! Everyone’s got something in them that somebody’s going to have a problem with, but your mom should be more concerned about whether he makes you happy than where he’s from.”

  What he said sounded so simple! So elementary, he could have ended his sentence with, Duh. My bad example of her prejudice had broken the situation down to its most basic elements, and suddenly I realized it was that simple. Either I went through the rest of my life punishing myself for my bloodline—atoning, as Bones had noted—or I didn’t. Simple. So incredibly simple, I hadn’t been able to wrap my mind around it before.

  “Timmie,” I said with absolute conviction, “you’re a genius.”

  His baffled countenance returned. “Huh?”

  I got up, kissed him full on the mouth, and then dashed to the phone.

  “I’m calling him,” I announced. “Got any advice for apologizing? ’Cause I’m not good at that, either.”

  Timmie still sat where he was, stunned. “What? Oh. Say you’re sorry.”