Fangtabulous (15 page)

If I’d still been fully functional, I probably would have sensed the stake coming at my back in time to avoid it—

• • •

I awoke to voices. Not that I indicated that I was conscious by so much as a twitch.

“I said bring me the
guy
, the telemetric you told me about. Not …
her.”

Rebecca?

We’d found out she was trafficking in dead bodies and grave goods, but kidnapping? Assault? I hadn’t pegged her for a criminal mastermind.

“He went inside,” not-Bobby was saying. “And he had backup.
She
was alone. I thought we could use her as bait.” It broke my heart to hear that voice. Bobby’s, but not. A little too high and … crazy. Because, yeah, a voice could totally be crazy, and his was it.

“You’re obsessed,” Rebecca spat. “You’d have gone after her regardless.”

I cracked open my eyelids just a touch. I had to see where I was and start looking for escape. I didn’t know what they needed Brent for. He had to be the telemetric they were talking about.

I still didn’t know who Bobby was when he wasn’t himself, though I was starting to get an inkling. The first time he’d acted possessed, we were inside our apartment … and despite all the rumors about the hauntings there, the place had been mysteriously quiet ever since we’d moved in. Possibly because our resident ghost had found a new home in Bobby.

“Obsessed?” not-Bobby asked. “Maybe. Could be.
Get the girl—get the girl—get the girl.
It runs through my head like little spiders creepy-crawling.”

“Ick, another obsession of yours—spiders!” Rebecca screeched. “How hard is it to get good help these days? Stupid amulet. I call for Tituba and I get Renfield. It’s like it’s defective or something.”

Tituba? Renfield? Wait, I knew both those names. I couldn’t remember how I knew them, but I was pretty sure they didn’t go together.

My head was pounding and with my eyes barely slit open, all I could see was stained off-white carpet and feet encased in squared-toed boots. Pointy toes were at least direct and, well, to the point. Squared-off shoes weren’t to be trusted, especially when they were coming closer and all my sensitive spots sat at their level. I closed my eyes again so that Rebecca wouldn’t see that I was awake. I wondered if she’d realized that I wasn’t breathing. I couldn’t very well have faked it while unconscious, so I had no idea whether I should start now. I decided to try to hedge my bets with slow shallow breaths, barely noticeable.

“You’re not fooling anyone, Sleeping Beauty. Wakey-wakey.”

When I didn’t respond right away, she hauled back one of those snub-nosed boots and swung it my way. I flinched, trying to bring my arms forward to block the kick, but they were trapped behind my back, which protested the movement rather vehemently.
That
was when I remembered the stake that had struck me down. I tried to strike out with my legs, and found them tied as well. I was lashed like an old-time heroine left on the train tracks. I could ghost out of the way, of course, but I wasn’t ready to go just yet. I didn’t have a plan for getting Bobby away, and even after he’d poked me with his pointy stick, I wasn’t prepared to leave him behind. Or go without learning whatever I could about what this was all about.

Rebecca’s boot connected with my ribs, whooshing out the air I’d pretended to breathe in. I winced and curled protectively around my stomach. Too late.

“Bitch,” I spat. Ghosting out and knocking her on her butt was starting to look better and better.

“Oh, honey, is that all you’ve got?” She laughed, and I could have killed her. Twice. Once for each of us, Bobby and me.

She held her hand out to not-Bobby, and he looked at it in confusion. Impatient, she waggled her fingers. “Hand it over.”

“The walkie-talkie?”

“The
phone
, yes.”

Bobby pulled my borrowed cell out of a pocket and dropped it into her hand like it was a hot potato. She slid it open, flipped through one of the directories, and pressed a button.

“Sit up,” she ordered me.

I did, but only because it was way more dignified than lying down. She watched me, but I refused to watch her back. Instead, I looked at Bobby.

“Bobby,” I said softly. “Come back to me.”

He looked smaller now. It was like he’d caved in on himself. His shoulders—Renfield’s shoulders, apparently—were all hunched, and he was doing his best to gnaw his fingernails right off. I hoped his fangs weren’t extended or it could get downright painful.

But Rebecca was talking into the phone now, and I had to focus back on her to see if I could pick up both sides of the conversation.

“I’ve got the girl. Gia or whatever her name is. If you want her, you come by yourself.
Just
you. If I see anyone else, she dies.” She paused to listen for a second and then asked, “Proof? Here’s your proof.”

Rebecca reached down to hold the phone to my ear, probably the whole reason I’d been allowed to sit in the first place.

“Don’t listen to her,” I started.

“Are you al—” Brent began.

Rebecca ripped the phone away from my ear.

“So noble,” she said into the receiver. “You don’t want someone like that to die just because you wouldn’t follow instructions, do you? Good. Derby Wharf, the schooner pier. Ten o’clock.”

“Not the witching hour?” Bobby asked, spitting out his latest nail-biting success.

“Ten o’clock gives us plenty of time for it to get dark and deserted down at the pier.”

She looked meaningfully in my direction, as if some part of that was meant to be a threat, which implied to me that she had no idea that nighttime-without-witnesses played right to my strengths. That hope was dashed a second later when she squatted before me, the pendant I’d wondered about swinging free of her shirt.

“So vampires really exist?” she asked, studying me.

I made myself turn away to glare at Bobby in betrayal, rather than stare at the pendant and reveal just how interested in it I was. Bobby surely hadn’t been able to help himself. It was probably impossible to keep secrets from someone—some
thing
—that shared your body and brain, but still … I hoped there were some things that he’d held back. For instance, I did
not
need this Renfield guy knowing what I looked like in my skivvies.

“Answer me,” she ordered.

I skimmed past the pendant on my way to give her the death glare of doom. The piece wasn’t much to look at, at least not at first glance—just a pure black stone, like obsidian, ringed by a twisted wire setting and strung on a leather cord. But the longer I looked, the harder it was to look away, like the stone was some black hole, sucking me in. Rebecca caught my stare and tucked the pendant quickly away with a glare all her own.

“Answer me,” she snarled, again.

I met her gaze. “We’re not like genies. You can’t compel us to answer.”

Her eyes went wide. “Djinn exist too? How do I get one?”

“Have you tried digging up Aladdin’s lamp? Seems like you’ve dug up everything else.”

Those eyes narrowed again, and she flipped her long auburn hair over her shoulder. “I’m no grave robber. I was looking for something.”

“Tell that to the guy whose grave you robbed, the one whose skeleton is sitting in the Morbid Gift Shop looking for hand-outs.” She’d probably never expected that JC Supplies would resell it so close to home.

She hissed. “How much do you know?”

“Everything,” I lied.

Except what she was looking for. And why? What did she want with Brent? Or this Tituba person? Had she found what she was looking for? Was it the pendant?

“Then you know about the Book of Shadows,” she said, studying me.

Oh crapcakes, that didn’t bode well. “Of course.”
Not
.

She leaned in, practically salivating. “Do you have it? I would ransom you for the book.”

“I thought you were planning to trade me for Brent.”

“If I have the book, I don’t need
him
.”

Ah, so that’s how things stood. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, then. We don’t have it.”

“Fine,” she spat. “Let’s go.” She looked at Bobby, who stopped gnawing the last of his nails to dip his head in a mini-bow.

“Master?” he asked.

“It’s
mistress
, I keep telling you. Bring her.”

He crouched next to me to grab my arms and haul me to my feet. He was so close I was tempted to go for the vein again, but I could barely even smell the blood beneath his skin. He was still low from my earlier feeding and hadn’t replenished. That might even the playing field, with me all tied up, but I just couldn’t do it. For once, I had an entourage, and I was determined to use it. Brent, I was sure, would not come alone, no matter what Rebecca said. Marcy would never let him.

The ride to Derby Wharf was nearly silent but for me trying to get more information out of Rebecca about this Book of Shadows and how it all tied in to Salem’s troubles. Apparently, though, she’d read the Evil Overlord rules and knew you didn’t monologue about your plans to the good guys, giving them a chance to escape and foil everything. You also didn’t arrange ridiculously convoluted and slow deaths for them or set explosives to actually go off at zero as opposed to, say, ten. But I was hoping that last one wouldn’t become relevant.

Rebecca drove, and Bobby sat in the back with me, staring eerily and stroking my hair, saying creepy things like “smooth as spider silk” and something about how they made sweaters out of alpaca but my hair was so much softer. He gave me the chills, and not at all in the way I was used to them from Bobby. I didn’t like it.

Renfield! I suddenly remembered. The insane henchman from all the Dracula movies. He’d never lived in Salem—or at all—but Renfield Syndrome, with its craving for blood and all,
that
I thought was a real thing. This made it more and more likely that we were dealing with our asylum ghost.

When I leaned away, Bobby aka Renfield came with me. So I gave up, rather than risk him falling right into my lap.

By the time we parked at the wharf, I was ready to crawl out of my own skin to escape. There was a commercial side to the wharf, complete with a little loop of stores and restaurants featuring anything from knickknacks and incense to steamed clams, but we weren’t there. We were at the actual piers, past the Maritime Museum, where an antique-
looking ship rocked—the schooner Rebecca had mentioned, I guessed. It appeared ready for another voyage at any second. The museum was, of course, closed, and the pier was dark except for a few low lights at foot level. Faces would be in shadow.

Only one person stood on that pier, halfway to the end. With my vamp sight, I could see it was Brent. I knew he wouldn’t have come alone, but scanning the area, I couldn’t spot Marcy or any other backup. Now that it was no longer an option, I realized
what a huge advantage Bobby’s mind-speak ability had always been for coordinating attacks. I couldn’t read Brent’s mind, and he couldn’t read mine. We were going to have to wing it.

“Is it him?” Rebecca asked her Renfield.

He nodded.

“Good. When we get to the pier, you stay on the shore with Gia while I go out to meet the telemetric. Once I’ve got him, you can free her.”

Renfield-Bobby did that head bob again. “Yes, Master.” But there was a sly tone to his voice, like the whole master/mistress thing was intentional. Or maybe he knew the bit about letting me go was just for show and there was no way it was really gonna happen.

With my legs bound together, I had to take tiny, mincing steps toward the dock. Rebecca soon outpaced Renfield and me, leaving us behind, as planned, when she walked out onto the pier. Renfield held my bound arms in one hand and had the other wrapped around my neck. It reminded me chillingly of the ghostly hands choking me on my first night at Haunts. I broke out in a blood sweat, not because I had anything to fear from strangulation, but because I was afraid of
Bobby
. I didn’t know where the night would take us or what I’d be forced to do.

We watched as Rebecca stopped, face-to-face with Brent.

“You came alone?” she asked, as if Brent would tell her otherwise.

He nodded.

“As soon as you let me bind you, we’ll let your friend go. I have no use for her.”

I could hear the lie as clear as a bell from where I was standing. I wondered if it sounded any more convincing at close range.

“Let her go first,” he demanded.

“Not on your life.”

Brent looked at me, and I wished I knew what he was trying to tell me. Renfield pointedly tightened his grip on my throat.

“It doesn’t seem I have any choice,” Brent said.

His shoulders slumped in defeat, and he held his hands out to her for cuffing. A look of triumph flashed across Rebecca’s face.

As she made a move toward him, something burst out of the water right behind her and tore her feet out from under her. Rebecca hit the pier hard, barely catching herself with her hands and banging her chin with a smack that should have her seeing stars. She flopped like a landed fish and clawed at the wooden planking for dear life as Marcy pulled her by the ankles toward the freezing cold waters.

I didn’t wait for the splashdown, but ghosted out of my bonds and Renfield’s grip. I rematerialized as soon as I felt both fall away, close enough to Renfield to head-butt him in the nose. If I’d been any shorter or he hadn’t bent to grab me, I might have failed. But he yelped, blood spouted, and I whirled out of the way of a counterstrike, ending up behind him where I launched a kidney-kick to take him down. It hurt me, I think, more than it hurt him. The boy was made of solid iron, but I staggered him.

He landed on hands and knees, immediately sweeping a leg out to knock me down. I jumped it like a rope and aimed another kick at his head, but he reared up and caught my foot in mid-air. He twisted, and it knocked me off balance. I started to topple and turned it into a shoulder roll at the last second to keep from face-planting into the pier.