The Mourning Woods - 03 (9 page)

“They are?” I asked, looking up.

“Let me guess,” Tom surmised. “They didn’t tell you that part either.”

By Wednesday, I couldn’t take it any more. I couldn’t get anyone in Boston to return my calls. James was apparently busy and Colin was being a prick. I hadn’t heard anything from Sally either. Between that, the stress of not knowing, and the added agitation of being certain that the love of my life had left for parts unknown, I was getting absolutely nothing done at work. Fortunately, my boss was too busy trying to figure out his own paperwork to bug me much. Gotta love downtime.

After the sun had set, I decided to head over to the coven. Maybe someone there could fill me in a bit more about this ancient war with Bigfoot. At the very least, the women of the coven were distracting eye candy. A little T&A wasn’t exactly a bad way to kill a few hours. Hey, I never claimed I wasn’t shallow.

I made my way first to the loft. It was located right in the middle of SoHo. Back when I was alive, you couldn’t have paid me to hang out there. There’s only so much vacuous smarm I can take without retching. However, as luck would have it, I just so happened to be in charge of a group of vampires who are headquartered there. Yeah, life sometimes has a funny way of telling you to go fuck yourself. Anyway, the loft was where it all started for me, it being the place where I was turned. It just so happened to also be one of the coven’s more popular hangouts. Sally in particular had a fondness for it, often using it as her home when not at the office. If she was lying low, there was a good chance it would be at the loft.

Alas, no such luck. I found a few coven members milling about a dead body, a not uncommon sight. However, seeing no sign of Sally, and not really wanting to know much more about the circumstances around their kill (I lost enough sleep as it was), I decided to try the office instead.

Much to my surprise, Starlight, still in her conscripted role as secretary, told me that Sally was in. I started toward her office, but Star held up her hand. She hooked a thumb and pointed it toward the back. Upon my questioning glance, she smiled sheepishly and made it a point to get back to typing.

Okay, whatever that meant. I turned toward the rear of the floor. There was a changing area, complete with full shower facilities at the back. It was a handy thing to have for vampires. Unlike me, a good deal of the coven preferred their food alive and squirming. Being what we are, that ensured things tended to get messy. Stain resistant carpets, French drains, and places to clean up are necessities for any facility owned and operated by vamps.

Perhaps Sally had just returned from a hunt. She definitely had no problems with taking live prey. Considering how she looked: petite, blonde, and absolutely gorgeous, she didn’t often have much problem attracting her next meal. On the upside, if she was in the back room that meant I had a chance of sneaking a peek at her in the shower. It would probably get me slugged (and Sally could pack a hell of a punch for her size), but it would be worth it...no question there.

As I got closer, my sensitive vampire ears began to pick up sounds from ahead. There was definitely water running, although it sounded more like one of the sinks. However, that wasn’t what caught my ear. I picked up heavy, content breathing complimented by the occasional sigh of pleasure. I stopped walking but continued to listen. Sure eavesdropping is rude, but fuck that shit. Being the head of a vampire coven means never having to apologize.

The sighs continued. It sounded like...holy shit! Was Sally getting it on with someone? Here, I was struck by a moral dilemma (something rare in the vampire community). On the one hand, Sally was allowed her privacy. She was my partner in the coven. Hell, she had saved my ass on more than one occasion. She deserved it. On the flipside, when was I going to get another chance to see her getting plowed? Oh, yeah, that decided it.

But still, I hesitated. Something didn’t feel right about this. After a moment, I pulled out my cell phone and turned the camera on.
Now
it felt right.

Holding it in front of me, I hit “record” and walked through the door.

“Don’t mind me,” I cheerfully called out. “Just keep on doing what you’re...” What the hell
was
she doing?

Sally, wearing a silk robe, was seated in a chair. Her bare feet were immersed in a portable foot bath. As for the rest of her, the chair was inclined and her head was leaning back in one of the sinks. A somewhat effeminate looking man, one I had never seen before, was busy washing her hair.

Upon hearing my voice, she opened her eyes and raised her head. She looked at me, then at my phone, cocking an eyebrow in the process. “Nice try, Bill,” she commented, leaning back again.

“What the...” I stammered. The man gave me the once over, sniffed, and then went back to rinsing Sally’s hair.

“Who is this?” I asked.

Without moving, Sally gave another sigh of contentment and replied, “Bill, meet Alfonzo. Alfonzo, Bill.”

“Alfonzo?”

“He’s my stylist,” she explained as if that answered anything.

“Stylist? You can’t just bring a person...” I stepped forward and took a breath. I smelled shampoo, conditioner, Sally’s expensive perfume (damn she smelled nice. Not that I would ever tell her that), and something else. My senses weren’t as acute as an older vampire’s were, but at Sally’s insistence, I had been practicing. For a moment, I was confused, but then I realized what it was. Alfonzo wasn’t human...at least he wasn’t anymore.

“What the hell did you do?” I snapped.

Alfonzo, thinking I was speaking to him, replied in a nasally accent, “I am accentuating her highlights in preparation for...” I tuned out the rest. Jeez, I hate to stereotype, but this guy sounded just like I would imagine an overpriced SoHo stylist. We’re talking a grade-A, bad Inspector Clouseau imitation here.

“Not you,” I replied. “In fact, would you mind giving Sally and me a moment?”

“Impossible!” he spat in a prissy tone. “The color must be managed down to ze’ precise...”

“
GET OUT!
” I commanded. Compulsion was another thing Sally had been bugging me to practice. I hadn’t thought much of it before then, as I haven’t met too many vampires younger than I am. Still, I could see how it could come in handy.

Though my compulsion wasn’t nearly the strength of some others, it had the desired effect. Alfonzo’s eyes glazed over. He straightened up and, without another word, marched from the room, shutting the door behind him.

“Finally got that figured out?” Sally asked conversationally from where she still reclined.

“Thanks to you,” I replied. “Now if you’d be so kind, can you please explain Alfonzo?”

She raised her head to meet my gaze. “I already told you. He’s my stylist. He’s been doing my hair for years. Oh, the things that man can do to a scalp,” she said dreamily.

“Fascinating, I’m sure. And has Alfonzo always been a vampire?”

“No.”

“So you turned him?”

“Yep. That’s typically how it works.”

“WHY?” I screamed.

She looked at me innocently before answering, “I’ve been stressed and Alfonzo’s salon has been all booked up.”

“So you turned him into a vampire?”

“Seemed like a good idea at the time. We’re still short on members and he does great work. You really should let him give you a manicure. Your nails are looking a little ratty. He is heaven with a file...”

“I don’t need a manicure. And who the fuck gave you permission to recruit new members?”

She just arched her eyebrows at me. In front of the others, I was in charge. Behind the scenes, though, Sally was on equal terms with me...maybe even slightly more than equal. Her look told me she wasn’t about to be intimidated.

Trying another tactic, I changed my tone. “Besides, weren’t you the one who told me that only the coven master could recruit? That there were rituals that needed to be respected?”

She appeared to consider this for a moment before blithely answering, “Yeah, but you said it yourself...those rituals are stupid.”

Damn, she had me there. There were formal rites that were supposed to be performed when one was accepted into a coven, but they were idiotic, not much better than a fraternity initiation. I had told Sally as much on more than one occasion, not considering that she would probably use my words against me. I should’ve known better. Sally is a rattlesnake in a size-four dress and three-inch heels.

“Besides,” she continued. “I thought you wanted to branch out from the typical muscle heads that Jeff used to recruit.”

Again, she had me. Jeff had been a spoiled, pretty-boy, douche bag asshole. As such, all the other males in the coven had likewise been of similar caliber. They and I had proven to be a bad mix. Thanks to the Khan’s assassins, however, there were now far fewer of them to contend with. That aside, though, I had been putting off active recruitment for the coven because...well, it just seemed like such a fucking evil thing to do. Sure there are plenty of goth weirdos who would jump at the chance to be moody for all of eternity, but I had envisioned a coven populated by a more normal, well-adjusted crowd. The problem is; how do you approach someone like that with the offer of “Hey, can I kill you so you can join my army of the undead?” Apparently, Sally wasn’t concerned with minor details such as this.

“Yes,” I said. “But that didn’t mean you had free rein to make someone your eternal slave just because they happen to do a passable job of covering up your roots.”

“I’ll have you know I’m a natural blonde.”

“Yeah, and I look like Johnny Depp,” I countered.

“You might look more like him if you let Alfonzo give you a make over.”

“I’ll pass on the
Queer Eye for the Straight Guy
treatment for now. I think we have more pressing matters to discuss.”

“Fine. Pull up a chair, but can you let Alfonzo back in first?”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because if I wind up with streaks in my hair, you aren’t going to live long enough to let a Sasquatch kill you.”

I don’t know why I ever bother talking to Sally. It almost never makes me feel better. Well OK, the sight of her cleavage often makes me feel better, but it’s superficial compared to the pounding migraines I usually end up with.

Case in point, as the coven’s newest recruit continued to minister to her hair - with more care than I’ve seen parents show to a newborn - Sally blithely told me about how she pretty much knew everything I had come over to talk about. Somehow, I wasn’t surprised.

“You know about the special envoy they’re sending?”

“Of course,” she replied. “I keep tabs with Boston.”

“And you didn’t tell me because...”