Dead Vampires Don't Date (18 page)

I grabbed several more stakes from my closet and tucked them into my harness. I found an extra knife in my underwear drawer and its calf holster under my t-shirts. I buckled the holster, slid the knife in place. Al cornered me in the kitchen before I could locate the Holy Water.

"What's the rush?"

I couldn't lie to Al. "I just want to finish up for the night." No Holy Water in the pantry.

"Ya need some help?"

"I'm flying tonight, Al." Not in with the dry goods either. "A new broom I'm trying out."

"I can ride in the basket." For reasons I can't explain, aside from sheer loneliness, I'd bought a long handled dog carrier I could wear over my shoulder to bring Al along on the evenings when I felt like a midnight ride.

He'd picked up on something. Al did not willingly volunteer to get inside the basket. I usually coaxed, he grumbled and we both got what we wanted without coming right out and saying it.

I sighed. I didn't want to start up another fight. The afternoon stop at Spike's had readjusted our relationship. But there was no way I'd risk him. And I didn't want our possible last time together to be something he regretted.

The unknowns of the night stretched before me: murky, shadowed, dark and really scary.

"I'm sorry, Al. Not tonight." I opened the refrigerator.

"You're meetin' that demon aren't ya? That Ash," his voice quivered with resentment.

I'd pushed all thoughts of Ash so far down into my gut the mere mention of his name hit me like a cannon blast and I actually swayed for a moment. Holding onto the refrigerator door like it was my only salvation.

We didn't have a relationship exactly. I had crazy, riotous feelings and he had . . . Something. We both had one amazingly hot make out session.

And then he'd left.

I might not see him again. The thought hollowed inside me, creating an empty space that ached all the more for the sheer emptiness of it.

I set my head on the top of the door, let the cool air brush over my face and took a deep breath.

I was a big witch. I could do this. I had to.

"No, Al. I'm not meeting Ash." There. On the shelf door. I had no idea if refrigeration actually kept Holy Water longer. I don't really think there is an expiration date on Holy Water. Once blessed, always blessed. However, it couldn't hurt.

I grabbed the bottle, shut the door and turned to face him. Al sat on the kitchen table, his butt firmly planted next to the sugar. His lip curled, tiny white teeth ground together.

"I have something I need to take care of, Al." He narrowed his bulging eyes. "And it has nothing to do with Ash."

I hoped it didn't. A tiny voice whispered all the dots still did not add up. Ash could be a part of the prince's murder. It doesn't happen often, but it wouldn't be the first time I'd been deceived.

But the memory of him holding me, crept back again and again. Sneaking into every loose niche and cranny in my heart. And opening me up to a whole new world of possibilities and hope.

"Ya got extra stakes, a knife, and now some Holy Water."
So he can read
. He tilted his chin. "Looks like you're planning for a small war. You're gonna need some extra muscle."

Bless every strand of fur on his little, big-hearted, oblivious, reality resistant, hit man head.

I set the spray bottle on the table and scooped him up. He stiffened, growled uncertainly. I ignored him, ran my cheek over his head and inhaled his sweet doggy scent. He licked my chin.

"I love you, Al."

I set him down, snatched up the bottle and left the kitchen, closing the door behind me.

"Doll?"

He clawed at the door.

"
Doll!
"

I'd text Aunt Tabs and ask her to come let him out. I couldn't call her. Not now. I just couldn't.

I paused for a second outside my front door. Al continued to call for me. Repeatedly. His voice rose.

"You ready?" Morgan stood halfway down the steps.

I nodded. We headed out into the night.

25.
Are You Kidding Me?

At least this time I didn't fall into every gopher hole in existence. There were definite benefits to flight.

And it was much brighter. The moon nearly full now.

It somehow made it all that much worse.

Had it only been five days since we'd buried the body? Five days, twenty-six lifetimes, and a whole new outlook on life.

My ostrich half nudged me. Surely there had to be a big blanket somewhere I could hide under? Quiver under. That part insisted any blanket would do, musty and dirty didn't factor into the picture.

My shoulders sagged as I flew on. I really liked my ostrich half.

"Those trees there." Morgan pointed with her own hand this time. Her up-do less than perfect, several loose curls rippled around her, the moonlight turning them to copper.

I angled my broom downwards. We landed a few feet outside the first row of trees.

"Anything?" Morgan would obviously tell me if she felt Ivan. I just wanted the reassurance of my own voice before we entered the creepy woods.

"No. We're good." She set off, a hunter on the trail. She held the shovel. I followed, clutching my broom, my bones nearly rattling together.

Neither one of us said a word. I hadn't bothered to brush up on my casual conversation skills while going to un-bury a dead body. Miss Manners certainly didn't cover the topic and I doubted if my Witch's Manual did either. Besides, I was too busy peering around every tree, bush and leaf.

There were a lot of them. We were in the woods after all
.

Despite having walked this exact same path several days ago, it was a brand new experience for me. I could see this time, eye the shadows that hovered
everywhere,
elongating a simple branch into a creature with teeth and long claws.

And oddly, now that I could see, I could hear as well. I didn't remember hearing anything other than the beating of my own heart that first night.

In fact, I still couldn't, but now I was aware of it. We were in the woods. Animals lived in the woods. Creatures. Birds. Insects. I should have been able to hear them. Some of them. At least one of them.

Silence echoed all around us.

It highlighted the wrongness of it all.

I had a very bad feeling, but then again I
should
have a really bad feeling. We were going to dig up a dead body, what other feeling suited the situation?

"Right there," she pointed. Morgan's ivory skin almost shimmered in the pale light that flickered through the trees.

I squinted. Damn. She knew how to bury a body. I could not make out any difference, any disturbance that indicated an illegal gravesite in the shadowed area.

"Stand over there." She indicated a spot near a large evergreen. Mindful of its branches, I hurried over to stand near it. I left enough space between my back and the thick trunk so I could grab a stake if needed.

Morgan began to shovel. My broom shook in my hands.

In way too short of a time, she'd dug a hole deep and wide enough to expose the body. Pickles and roses filled the air again. Along with the ripe, coppery stench of blood. A lot of blood.

I must be more human than I want to admit. I walked over to the edge and peered down in just as if it was an accident on the side of the road.

The prince had gone really gooey now. His skin drifted off his bones like soft chunks of hot wax, stretching and then piling into molten, nasty heaps.

Dirt encased worms and other insects combined to crawl over and under the grotesque mix of decomposing flesh.

The wind picked up. It displaced the smell, but allowed the shifting light entrance. Large sections of tissue, veins and muscle peeked out in muted colors. Smaller areas of white bone gleamed. A dark hole gaped in the center of his chest
.

Uh, uh, uh.

"No upchucking allowed." Morgan stated.

I turned my head, swallowed hard. She'd said that the first time too. It was a lot harder to comply now. The prince hadn't been even close to this stage of pure goo then.

I heard a thud, turned and saw that Morgan had jumped into the pit. She leaned over, picked up one arm. A horribly wet stretching sound echoed loudly in the night air.

"Wait!" I slapped my hands over my ears. "Just give me a minute."

The visual and the sound battled in my stomach for several long moments.
Sweet Spirits, give me strength.
I backed up, turned my head, the spiky needles of a pine branch scratched my skin. I inhaled its woodsy scent, filled my lungs. Gradually the nausea faded, replaced by the familiar smells of nature.

My stomach rolled instead of heaved.

We had to move the body.

"Almost there." I kept my hands clapped over my ears, loosely enough so I could hear Morgan, but there in case I had to close out other noises.

"Before you start again." My stomach heaved once. I paused. "I think you should explain exactly how we are going to move the body without leaving behind," I swallowed,
oh dear
, "Bits and pieces for someone to follow." I concentrated on easing my stomach. "And then where we are going to relocate," relocate didn't have the same effect on me as
re-bury
, "the body."

I couldn't call him the prince anymore. There just wasn't enough left.

I hadn't wanted the details when Morgan asked earlier. As long as I simply focused on one thing at a time, I could manage.

I'd thought I would be on hand to help if needed, although I hadn't expected her to actually need me. Morgan's a thousand times stronger than I will ever be.

Plus, she has experience.

I'd clearly overlooked several
sticky
factors in my plan.

"I brought a body bag." She had? I glanced over at the black shape she held up. It was easily of a size to fit inside her black and silver pouch. "They fold up quite nicely." I really
did not
want to know these things.

"My plan is to put the body in the bag and then cart his ass over to the sewer treatment facility."

I gagged.

I couldn't help it. I'd been to that facility. We lived in a small town. A small town sewer treatment facility is an open pond of stinky, septic wastewater that the town has pushed as far to the edge of nowhere and still be able to use it.

Morgan
could
dump the body inside the pond. It wouldn't be a body much longer at this rate. Or she could bury it nearby. No one with a developed olfactory system went anywhere near that cesspit.

After wiping my chin, I asked, "What about the supernatural fire part?" The waste pond was exposed to sunlight. The city hadn't bothered to dress it up with trees or shrubbery. Why bother?

Morgan grinned. "It'll be a blast."

Sweet Glinda, it would too. Nasty vapors and supernatural fire. What a combo.

"I don't know, Morgan." I leaned heavily on my broom. Little voices screamed urgently at me from inside my head. Something about "bad idea" echoed back and forth. It might have been a blonde moment, or a witch moment, or both, but I couldn't take my eyes off Morgan standing in the grave long enough to really concentrate.

I didn't know how the treatment facility operated, but I did know they didn't have regular employees. Just a maintenance crew. No one would get hurt, still . . . "The sewers will back up. The police and emergency personnel will be called. They'll discover the body." I knew there was a flaw somewhere.

"The flames will burn only long enough to dispose of him." She nudged the body with her ankle. A large section of skin fell off. "It's too big for them to drain, so they won't find any bones. I thought I'd toss a few empty gas cans near the edge. Kids get bored these days."

Shit. I could see her point. It would indeed look like a stupid accident and it would take care of the evidence.

On the other hand . . . "Morgan, you're talking about a major disaster. For the town. The one we live in." I thought harder. "Think of the environmental aspect. No way could that be good for the air quality." I rolled that around. "I'm sure it would have at least some impact on the vegetation around here. Aunt Tabs has her garden. She loves that garden."

Yes, I know. There were a lot of other significant points that I was missing, avoiding, or didn't have enough knowledge to fully understand. Blowing up a sewer treatment station just hadn't entered my mind as a possibility in tonight's endeavors.

I was grasping at straws.

"We would be rid of the body for good." Morgan crossed her arms. "Forever. No evidence."

The hell with it. We'd blow up the sewer facility. The town needed to modernize anyway.

I do not plan to justify my selfish, totally crazy, agreement. It looks bad. It is bad. I know.

Try walking in my boots for the last few days. There comes a time when desperation is just plain desperation.

"Okay." I had no idea how I planned to explain any of this to Aunt Tabs. But at least I'd be alive. I hoped that counted for something by the time we were all done. "Do you, uh, need any help," I flapped a limp hand in her direction, "with that?"

Please, please, please say no.

"No. I've got this."

"Indeed you do." Icy soft, the words drifted down from overhead.

No one moved.

I couldn't. Morgan looked equally as stunned. Devastated. Terror-struck.

The wind died down as if it too felt the need to hide. Silence stretched between and around us, cold and solitary despite the fact that we stood mere feet away from each other.

I forgot to breathe to the point when Ivan dropped down to land near the edge of the pit, the silence was so complete the faint thud of his entrance hit my body with the force of several gunshots.

I staggered back. Needles scraped my face. My head slammed into the trunk behind me. The rough bark dug into my clothes and my skin. The pain reassured me. I was alive.

His white hair radiated in an unearthly manner. His eyes glowed as well, bloody orbs of evil glittering with intent and something else. Something like satisfaction.

The devil relishing,
laughing
, over new horrified souls.

I dug my fingers into the bark by my side. Splinters knifed under my skin. Blood welled. Morgan flicked a frantic glance in my direction.

"No need to draw blood, Ms. Storm. I will be happy to take care of that myself." His long coat fluttered, leather snapped, as he turned to face me. The wind skittered by cautiously, revealing his vest. Rows of knives gleamed, illuminated in the moonlight.

"I can't scent you." I didn't recognize Morgan's voice as her own, she spoke in such guttural tones. "How is that possible?"

Ivan smiled, his large fangs prominent. "I can cloak my presence." He tilted his head toward her. "It's something that a very, very few, very, very old immortals can do. We had to hide to survive in the beginning." Ancient memories vibrated through his voice. None of them apparently pleasant. "As our numbers increased we were better able to defend ourselves and we could blend in without having to erase the traces of our existence." He lifted a hand. "You, younger generations, never had to learn this."

"I sensed you that night." Morgan insisted. "That first night."

"I know." Ivan nodded. "I wanted you to."

He'd wanted to terrorize us from the start. Before we knew what we were up against.

"Are you the one that attacked me last night?" I don't know why it mattered. Or where I found the courage to ask the question.

"Yes."

"Why?" I had to know. In a few moments it wouldn't matter, but right now it mattered most to me.

"Because I could." He didn't even look at me as he said it.

Deliberate. Methodical. Cruel. An ancient assassin doing what he wanted, because he simply could.

"We didn't kill the prince." Morgan stated.

"I know," Ivan said. "I did."

****

Bright static filled my head. Not noise, just static. The white lines that fill the TV screen when a signal gets lost. The ones that dance around in aimless patterns when nothing made sense and every satellite has lost connection and there is nothing to lock onto.

Those lines filled my head.

They filled it up until the top of my head exploded. Clear off my shoulders. Straight up into the sky.

At that moment, the first few threads of anger started to take root.

"What?" I asked the question quietly.

Ivan looked at me over his shoulder. "I said I killed the prince." He enunciated every word clearly as if talking to a very small child.

I repeated it anyway, "You killed the prince?"

He frowned at me. "Yes. I killed the prince."

"
You
killed the prince." I could not stop saying it.