Broken Heart 03 Because Your Vampire Said So (2 page)

At this point, I had several options. Scream for help. Pull out my cell phone and call someone. Get up and run for cover.

Unfortunately, I was so discombobulated and scared out of my mind, I didn’t make a logical choice. I sat on my butt and watched the fight.

The white wolf was the biggest lycanthrope I’d ever seen, larger and more muscular than even the triplets. He savagely attacked the creature, ripping with his teeth and scratching with his claws.

Black blood seeped from the creature’s wounds and smeared the wolf’s white fur. Despite the creature’s advantage in both height and strength, his punches and kicks were ineffective. Gabriel’s assault was relentless and vicious.

With a roar of frustration, the monster raised his arms to the sky and poof. A huge cloud of black smoke erupted from the ground and enveloped him. The noxious smell of sulfur gagged me.

When the air cleared, Evil Dude was gone.

Gabriel sniffed at the blackened soil, digging at burned ground. After a minute, he gave up and turned toward me. God, he was the most beautiful wolfie I’d ever laid eyes on. He limped forward, looking exhausted and torn up. I guess the scary guy had gotten more than a few good licks in.

“Come here,” I said.

Panting heavily, his eyes glazed with pain, he plopped down next to me and put his head in my lap. I rubbed his matted fur; then I leaned down and kissed his muzzle. “You did good, hon. Thank you.”

Beneath my fingers, his body undulated and I heard the awful snap-snick. Within moments he was human again. And naked. And unconscious.

I needed to get up and out of here. Or call for help or at least get us inside the trailer. Shoot. All the pizzazz had gone out of me. Most vampires got lethargic close to dawn. Sunrise wasn’t too far off.

I stood up, grabbed Gabriel under the arm-pits, and dragged him to the trailer. Even with my vampire strength, he was a handful. Getting him up the three steps and through the door took some doing.

I settled him on the couch.

The headache-inducing music my sixteen-year -old son enjoyed filtered down the hallway. At least he’d kept it down tonight.

My gaze roamed over Gabriel. Oo-wee. He was all kinds of yum. I checked out his package because … well, hell, wouldn’t you? Now, that was a damned fine piece of equipment. I just about drooled over his abdomen and pectorals, all smooth as beige silk. Or would’ve been if he weren’t covered in bruises, cuts, and blood.

“Did you kill him?”

“Oh, God!” I glared at the wizened old woman, who’d been dead herself for almost twenty years. Nonna stood above Gabriel, which she did only because she knew that kind of shit freaked me out.

Yeah. Remember those new tricks I talked about earlier? Well, I can see ghosts. That’s my vampire Family’s power—seeing earthbound spirits. Yippee.

“Nonna, how many times have I asked you not to pop out of the woodwork like that?”

She shrugged, but her grin was filled with orneriness. That was Nonna, all right. On her eighty-fifth birthday, she’d gone to Vegas and whooped it up. Her favorite thing was playing the one-armed bandits. Old-fashioned to the end, she pulled the handle instead of smacking the big plastic buttons.

Nonna died with one hand curled on the handle and the other hand curled around a Jack and Coke. Nobody noticed she’d passed on for three hours and by then, she was in rigor mortis. They had to remove the handle from the slot machine because they couldn’t unclench her wrinkled fingers from the metal bar or from the highball glass. That’s how she went to the coroner’s office.

Nonna always said she wanted to go in style.

I watched my deceased grandmother poke Gabriel with the toe of her orthopedic shoe, which of course went right through his shoulder. I can’t imagine why old people think those white, high-soled shoes look good with workout wear, but there Nonna was, as always, wearing those terrible shoes with her pink velour jogging suit.

“Stop that,” I demanded.

“What for?” She did it again, this time sinking her whole shoe into his forehead. She stared at me defiantly. “He cain’t feel nothing.”

I took out my cell phone and flipped it open. If I was smart, I’d hit the speed dial to Damian. He’d come and take this guy off my hands. Plus, the wolfies needed to know that weird-looking creep was running around town. I shuddered, feeling vulnerable. What if he came back?

Suddenly, I was reluctant to turn over my hero, unconscious or not.

With sunrise imminent, I needed to get to my bedroom. Underneath it was a concrete chamber I access by a trapdoor. I descended a ladder and within five steps, I was at my bed. I was usually tucked in early because I didn’t want to risk frying. Undead was better than dead any day of the week.

I leaned over and smacked Gabriel’s cheek. He didn’t respond at all. Lord, the man was a looker. His lips begged to be kissed. I imagined that mouth of his was real talented. Lust knotted my belly. Whoa, girl. He’s a wolf. You’re a vampire. No can do, remember? Even if I was the dating type, I’d learned in Vampire 101 that dating lycans was one of the big no-no’s.

Nonna knelt down, still floating above him; then she extended her forefingers and jabbed him in the eyes.

“Nonna! Jesus H. Christ!”

“Don’t you take the Lord’s name in vain,” she said sharply, “or you’ll go to hell.”

“Already there,” I muttered.

Nonna popped up outta nowhere this past summer. She said she’d been sent to help me deal with my “gift,” and that she’d lived her whole life using her second sight. I had never heard such a load of horseshit, but whatever. She was my grandmother, dead or alive.

“What did you do this time, Patsy?” My other ghostly nemesis arrived on scene. Her name was Dottie. About ten years ago, she’d been murdered by her boyfriend, a trucker named Rocky, who’d strangled her and thrown her off the highway just outside of Broken Heart. He’d never been caught, but that’s not why she hung around. She wasn’t interested in leaving the earthly plane. She was thrilled to pieces when my psychic energy appeared like a beacon to her lonely soul.

Dottie’s red hair was teased ridiculously high. She wore black capris, a V-necked shirt too small to contain her abundant breasts, and high heels. She also carried a huge, black purse. She dug out a pack of Pall Malls and lit up a cigarette. Even though I knew she was doing in death what she’d done in life, it galled me that she could smoke and I couldn’t.

“Didn’t I tell you not to do that around me?” I asked, irritated.

“Oh, yeah.” She blew a ring of smoke into the air. Her gaze wandered over the naked guy. “Who’s the hunk?”

“His name is Gabriel. Stop gawking at him.”

“Jealous?” Dottie grinned wickedly and continued ogling. Well, what was I gonna do? She was already dead.

“I’m bored. I want to go back to Vegas,” Nonna griped. “I almost hit that jackpot.”

Dottie cackled. “Yeah, the one in the sky.”

“Don’t start, you two.” I looked down at my naked problem. Just who was guarding who? I figured I should at least get his clothes. Maybe the pants survived his shift.

I headed outside. Nonna came with me, but Dottie stayed in the trailer to drool over my wolf. Man, I was getting tired. I found the place we’d been sitting and looked around. I spotted the black jeans and bent over to scoop ‘em up.

My fingers grazed something solid. What the—? I bent over and parted the tall fescue grass, which winter weather had turned brown.

“Who’s he?” asked Nonna. She leaned down and squinted at the man. “He’s dead.”

I could see that for myself. His shirt was in tatters. His mauled chest looked like hamburger meat. Blood spattered his boxer’s face, which was square and flat with a nose that had been broken too many times. He looked like a tough bastard.

“Spirit’s gone,” I said. “You see him, Nonna?”

“Nope.”

I looked around, nervous. Had he been attacked by the same creature who’d tried to kill me? I stood up and took out my cell phone. I hit the speed dial to my friend Jessica, who was married to one of the Consortium’s founders. Jessica picked up on the third ring. I told her everything that had happened and ended with, “and now I’m standing next to a dead guy.”

About two minutes later, Jessica and her husband, Patrick, appeared in a shower of gold sparkles. Dematerialization was a trick most Turn-bloods couldn’t do. Frankly, I wasn’t interested in dissembling and reassembling my own particles.

Jessica and Patrick looked flushed and rumpled. I figured out that my little phone call had interrupted some bedroom fun. Oops. Envy drove a green streak right through me. I wanted some hot and heavy sex with a stud muffin. My vibrator was gettin’ worn out.

Patrick knelt down and examined the man’s face.

“I don’t recognize him,” he said. “But he’s definitely a lycan.”

About that time, Damian pulled up in his black Ford 350. The rumbling engine died and he jumped out, striding across my weed-filled yard.

He knelt on the other side of the corpse, his expression cold and hard. “Rick.” His gaze flicked to mine. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. I came out here to get Gabriel’s clothes and he was …”

Everyone turned and stared at me.

“It’s not how it sounds,” I said impatiently. “I told you, Jess. My guardian shifted and kicked that monster’s ass.”

Damian’s obsidian eyes flashed with alarm. “What monster?”

“Patsy described the same demon that attacked Simone,” said Patrick, frowning.

“Is she okay?” I asked. Simone was Broken Heart’s mechanic, and a damned good one. She had some weird water power. I didn’t see much use for it, but hell, I had the most useless vampire power of all.

“She’ll be fine,” said Jessica. “You’re lucky Rick fended the demon off.”

I was so busy working over the idea of a demon attack, I barely heard her. Then her words penetrated. “Wait. What?” I pointed to Rick. “He’s not my guardian.”

Damian’s eyebrows dipped. “Yes, he is.”

“If he’s my guardian,” I said, my voice quivering, “then who the hell is the naked guy in my trailer?”

Adrenaline spiked in my stomach. Dottie chose that moment to appear, her gaze wandering all over Damian. I looked at Dottie puffing on her nonexistent cigarette and I wanted a smoke so bad, I’d even have settled for a ghost cig.

“Gabriel saved my life.” My voice quavered. “If he’s not my guardian, why would he do that?”

“Let’s go ask him.” Damian rose and turned in a fluid movement, which reminded me of his wolf’s strength and grace.

He got to the porch before the rest of us. He unsheathed a gun from his side holster, then opened the door and pointed it inside.

“He’s not in there,” said Dottie. “Mr. Hunky woke up and went out the window in your bedroom. “

Damian apparently figured this out, too. I went inside, followed by Jessica and Patrick.

“Blood,” said Damian, looking at my couch. He sniffed the air and frowned. “He’s odd, this one. His scent is … off.”

Gabriel smelled just fine to me, but I didn’t have a lycanthrope’s nose.

Damian made a call and put the word out about my moon-haired savior. Then we all traipsed outside to stare at the dead guy again.

Patrick and Damian hoisted the big man and carried him to the back of the truck.

Jessica looked at me. I saw the concern in my friend’s eyes. “Move into the compound for a while, Patsy. Just until we figure out what’s going on.”

“I hate the compound.” It reminded me of a prison environment. I hadn’t seen the inside of a jail cell, mind you, but I’d been on the other side of the window on visiting day.

“We’re getting overrun every night with desperate, Tainted vampires. The Ancients are here, which means our security teams are protecting the compound instead of the borders.” She rubbed her temples. “To top it off, this week the Wiccans moved into town.”

“Witches?”

“Wiccans,” she repeated. “We need their protection spells, especially with our security shortage. “

I didn’t really care who did or didn’t live in Broken Heart as long as they left my little piece of sunshine alone. “They got a need for hair care?”

Jessica chuckled. “Probably.” Then she looked around. “Are your ghost friends here?”

“Yeah.” Ghosts really geeked Jessica out. Right now, Dottie and Nonna were by the truck, watching Patrick and Damian ready Rick’s body for transport.

As usual, she carried her fancy half swords tucked into a black hip holster. She clamped the handles as if considering whipping them out. Swords wouldn’t do much good against these spirits, but I totally understood the desire to stab anything that annoying.

“I need to get going. I still have to tuck my kids into bed. And make sure Brian brushed his teeth.”

I laughed. “A mother’s work is never done.”

“You said it.” She took out her swords and swung them Xena-style. “I’m taking no chances.”

“Hey, Mom. What’s up?”

My sixteen-year-old, Wilson, sauntered across the yard, his brown eyes glazed. He stopped about a foot away, but I didn’t need my vampire senses to know he’d been smoking dope. My stomach clenched.

“I thought you were inside,” I said through gritted teeth. “Where have you been?”

“Out.” He infused a lot of hostility into the word.

I glanced at Jessica. I could tell by her expression and crinkled nose that she could smell the marijuana, too. She looked at me, sympathy in her eyes.

“Hi, Wilson,” she said. “You doing all right?”

He shrugged and looked away. Jessica didn’t seem bothered by his rudeness, but it bothered me. Every time I looked at Wilson, I saw the child and not the struggling teenager. I wanted to hug him into good behavior. But he was past hugs. He was past spankings, too.

I heard the truck start up and looked over my shoulder. Damian backed the truck out of my yard and drove out of sight.

Patrick rejoined us. Dottie and Nonna floated by him; naturally Dottie was checking out his ass. “I’ll ask Darrius to watch your place while you rest.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh!” said Jessica. “We’re having our first parent-teacher meeting tomorrow night.”

“Yeah. Sure. See you later.”

Patrick and Jessica waved good-bye to me. Since they were part of the Family Ruadan, vampires who had fairy blood, they had the ability to fly. I watched my friends rise into the air. Now, that would be a nice power to have. Better than the ability to hang out on a Friday night with ghost hags.

As soon as they were out of sight, I turned a fierce glare on my son. “Don’t ever leave the trailer without telling me! God!”

I didn’t want to freak him out by saying anything about the demon attack. I only hoped that thing would be caught soon.

The scent of pot rolled over me again and I crinkled my nose. “I told you to stay off that shit, Wilson.”

“Don’t start, Mom.” He walked away, heading toward the trailer.

I marched behind him, feeling helpless and pissed off. “You’re going to screw up your brain. You’re going to screw up your life.”

“So what?” Wilson opened the door, hopped the two concrete stairs, and went inside.

I followed. He took off his coat and tossed it onto the couch. He U-turned into the kitchen and opened the fridge. He pulled out a tube of cookie dough, the last of the deviled eggs, and the leftover chicken pot pie. He took his goodies, ignored my smoldering presence, and sat on the couch. He arranged the food on the coffee table, then clicked on the remote.

I stomped to the TV and turned it off. “I’m not through talking to you.”

Nonna and Dottie looked at each other, grimaced, and winked out of the trailer. I imagine they didn’t want to witness the fight.

“I smoked a joint. Big fuckin’ deal.”

I bit my tongue. Wilson did more than just smoke some weed now and again. He was prone to drinking himself stupid and he’d tried other drugs. I’d gone through this crap with his daddy. I didn’t want to do it with him.

“Doing drugs is a big deal, Wil! Your father—”

“I’m outta here.” He scooped up his food and walked down the minuscule hallway to his bedroom. He slammed the door shut. The music shot into migraine-causing decibels.

I wanted to weep, but vampires don’t get to cry. We don’t get to eat, either. Or smoke. Or have one stress-relieving vice. Argh!

My undead heart squeezed as I thought about Wilson and the path he’d chosen. I didn’t know what to do or how to help him. I was used to being the sober one, the rock in a crisis, the ever-present maid.

But I’d promised myself: never again.

When I was nineteen, I wed pretty boy, empty-headed Sean Donahue. I had been going to beauty school in Tulsa to get my required certifications even though I’d been a part of my grandmother’s beauty shop since I could walk.

Sean worked at a gas station near the school. He could charm the fur off a yeti. All it took to get into my pants was a few dozen compliments and a six-pack of Budweiser. Next thing I knew, I was in l-o-v-e.

It took four years to have a child: Wilson. Ten months after he was born, Lynnie came along. She stayed with us for seven weeks, nine days, eight hours, and thirty-seven minutes. Crib death. After that, I had three miscarriages, so I went to the doc’s and had my woman parts removed. No more babies. No more losses.

I don’t know if losing our daughter and babies exacerbated the wounds Sean already had, but the drinking got worse. I justified his boozing and bad behavior. For a while, I could point to the good intentions he had and the nice things he did.

Yeah, he drinks, but he supports his family.

After ten years, he lost his job at the Tulsa Bus Plant due to absenteeism. Work was cutting into his drinking time. After that, the man couldn’t keep a job longer than a month or two.

Yeah, he drinks, but he’s a good father.

He stopped playing catch with Wilson, dropped out as Boy Scout leader, forgot birthdays, slept through Christmas mornings, and left me to do the emotional cleanup.

The years passed and the disease of alcoholism did its work; the good man was destroyed inch by inch until only the monster remained. Whatever love and sympathy I had for him was worn away until only grief and anger remained.

One morning, as I cleaned up Sean’s vomit for the umpteenth time, I decided fifty more years of this bullshit was more than I could take. The man’s first love was booze, and not even losing his home, his wife, and his son was enough motivation for him to stop. We hadn’t seen him since the day we signed the divorce papers.

I tried not to think about Sean or about what I had been like with him. We’d been better off without him, but finally giving up and filing for divorce felt like peeling off my own skin with a cheese grater.

I couldn’t rely on Wilson to stay in his room while I slept, but he couldn’t leave the town without running into one of the wolves. Yet, even without access to the outside world, he was still finding a way to get drugs. I wasn’t too keen on asking the Consortium any favors, but they were efficient problem solvers. I’d been thinking lately I would swallow my pride and ask for their help.

I tugged on my oversized football jersey and crawled into bed. There was something to be said about vampire sleep. Worry and guilt couldn’t keep me tossing and turning.

The undead sleep like … well, the dead. When the sun rises, we have no choice but to shut our peepers and lie down. And when the sun sets, we wake up ready for a blood breakfast.

Ever since I got undead, I haven’t dreamed.

Until tonight.

In my dream, I sat at a small table that was one of many in an outdoor café. Daylight slanted across the marble surface and I touched it with one finger. I inhaled the scent of strong coffee and cinnamon rolls.

Across from me sat a young woman wearing a halter top and jeans. She had the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. Her skin was creamy, her lips rose red. Her dark hair hung in careless ringlets. She took my hand and turned it over, tracing the lines.

“You must follow your heart, Patsy. Don’t let past disappointments shape your future,” she said with an Italian accent. “You have a great destiny, one that you share with Gabriel.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will.” She winked at me.

The dream shifted… .

I stood at a picture window in a room I didn’t recognize. I looked over my shoulder and saw a huge, four-poster bed. The covers were messed up, as if whoever slept there had just gotten up. A fire crackled in the big, stone hearth, where two red wing chairs faced its warmth. I returned my gaze to the window.

Outside, the full moon danced along the treetops. I was dressed in a luxurious silk robe. I could feel my lungs fill with air and my heart beat steadily in my chest.

My belly felt heavy. I looked down and gasped. I was pregnant. Impossible. I pressed my hands against my roundness and felt a tiny foot kick against my palm.

I wanted to weep.

To my surprise, I did. I closed my eyes and let the tears course down my cheeks.

Fingertips brushed away the wetness. I opened my eyes and met Gabriel’s sun-fire gaze.

Lord-a-mercy. He stared at me with such longing, such love, I wanted to give him anything he asked.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“Nothing,” I whispered. Happiness welled within me. “Everything is perfect.”

His ravenous grin reminded me that he was a werewolf. I felt like he might devour me in that moment. As if to confirm my fears (or hopes?), he pressed his hot mouth to mine.

And then the dream melted away and I fell into the soft darkness of vampire sleep.

The Story of Ruadan the First

As Written by Lorcan O’Halloran

Once there was a great warrior-magician whose name was Ruadan. He was the son of magician-healer Brigid and warrior-prince Bres.

Brigid was born the daughter of Dagda, all-father to the Tuatha de Danann, and of Morrigu, the crow queen. Bres was born the son of Fomhoire prince Elatha and of Tuatha de Danann princess Eriu. So, the families bound together their children so that they might rule as one.

Many believed Bres would bring peace to the troubled nations. When he came of age, he married Brigid to solidify his bond with the Tuatha de Danann. In time, he was made King of Eire.

But Bres was a foolish ruler, ignorant of his people’s suffering and unjust in his judgments. The sons of Tuatha de Danann rose up against him and took his crown, banishing him. In defeat, Bres returned to his father’s kingdom.

Bres was too prideful to turn away from the dishonor shown to him by the Tuatha de Danann, no matter how deserved. He vowed to take back what had been taken from him and to once again rule Eire.

Brigid wanted peace between the Fomhoire and the Tuatha de Danann. Without her husband’s knowledge, she sought her mother’s counsel. Morrigu foresaw the future and told her daughter the truth: The Tuatha de Danann would triumph over the Fomhoire, but not before Brigid lost her husband and their sons, Ruadan, Iuchar, and Uar.

The Tuatha de Danann had a magical well that instantly healed their warriors so long as they had not suffered a mortal blow. Created by a goldsmith named Goibniu, the well was safeguarded by spells and men alike. “Kill the builder of the well,” said Bres to his sons, “and destroy its magic … and the Tuatha de Danann will fall.”

So it came to pass that Ruadan’s wife, Aine, bore twin boys, Padriag and Lorcan. Satisfied that his family was safe, Ruadan and his brothers sailed to the Isle of Eire to fulfill his father’s plan.

The brothers used stealth and cunning to break through the defenses of their enemy. While Iuchar and Uar battled those who guarded the well, Ruadan stabbed Goibniu with the fae swords. But Goibniu, though mortally wounded, thrust his spear into Ruadan’s chest and felled the warrior.

Near death, Ruadan arrived in his homeland and was taken to his mother. She used all her magic and healing arts, but could not save her son. The very same night Ruadan breathed his last, Brigid received word of the deaths of Iuchar and Uar. She fell to her knees and wailed with such sorrow that anyone who heard the sounds knew a mother’s heart had been rent from her.

Morrigu heard the keening of her daughter, so she turned into a crow and flew to the land of the Fomhoire. Though the dark queen craved chaos over tranquility and war over peace, she felt pity for her daughter and offered one chance for Brigid to regain her son.