Broken Heart 05 Over My Dead Body (11 page)

“I’ll talk to her to about it,” I finally offered. “And if she wants to give it a try, I’ll call you.”

“Excellent.” Eva looked down at her plate. “If you’ll excuse me, I think there’s a piece of German chocolate cake with my name on it.”

I smiled. Across the yard, I saw Brady talking to one of the lycanthrope triplets. Considering the serious expression of the one manning the grill, he was certainly Damian. I had to assume Brady was chatting with either Darrius or Drake. He seemed to sense I was watching. He glanced up, his gaze on mine, sharing a look with me that I’d seen lovers like Jessica and Patrick share. It made me all warm inside (oh, baby), but I couldn’t forget what had happened on the porch. I’d overstepped my bounds, but Brady had scared me. I couldn’t let that go. It wasn’t fair. He didn’t know about Jacob. He couldn’t begin to follow rules that he didn’t know existed. But that was how I felt. It was probably best, then, that we keep our distance.

Brady clapped the lycanthrope on the shoulder and headed in my direction. Shit. I looked around for something to do, someone to talk to, and saw Elizabeth Bretton peering over one of the tables laden with our impromptu feast.

Elizabeth kept to herself even more than I did, though she was always very nice whenever she made an appearance. She was a handsome woman, in her early forties, which was the result of vigorous self-care, good genes, and, as she once told us, “a marvelous plastic surgeon.” Vampirism had made her beauty permanent—no need for any more surgical enhancements. She had shiny auburn hair cut short and designed to frame her lovely face. Her eyes were brown, and reminded me, oddly enough, of just-baked brownies—warm, inviting, and sweet. Elizabeth was the last remaining Silverstone, though she’d never tried to claim the mansion or property that rightly belonged to her family. Rumor had it that her estranged husband and daughter were in Europe. Elizabeth lived in a modest cottage inside the compound and had become Zela’s (yeah, that Zela) assistant. She probably had better vampire training than all of us.

I glanced out of the corner of my eye. Brady had reversed directions and now weaved through the crowd of women hovering around the dessert table. You’d think there was a shoe sale over there.

I hurried over to Elizabeth. “Hey, there! How you doin’?”

Elizabeth looked up. “Just fine, dear. Oh, my. You’re getting a little fangy. Haven’t you eaten?”

“My donor never showed up.”

Elizabeth ’s eyes flashed concern. “You know, I haven’t seen Darlene or her daughter, either. Seems like everyone is here except those two.”

And Rick. Anxiety rippled. Why hadn’t he shown up or called? And where had Darlene gone off to? Surely she wouldn’t miss a party. She loved parties.

“I left a message on her voice mail,” I said.

Reiner had stopped Brady and engaged him in a conversation. I could see the frustration etched on Brady’s features. Hmm. That Reiner was starting to grow on me. Not that he’d helped me on purpose.

“There are plenty of donors here,” reminded Elizabeth. “I suggest you find one.”

“Great idea. See you later.” I whirled around and headed toward a knot of people by the creek. They dispersed before I could insert myself into their midst and hide. Shit.

“How’s it goin’ with your pixie?” asked Zerina.

I nearly jumped out of my skin. I spun around and slapped a hand to my chest. I glared at her. “Where the hell did you come from?”

“Thought we went over that.” Zerina laughed. She looked like Courtney Love today: kohled eyes, pink-striped minidress, hole-filled black stockings, and pink wedge heels that were at least five inches. Her hair was spiked and the tops of the spikes were black. “What’s got your knickers in a knot? Would it be that lickalicious Brady who’s headed your way?”

I looked over my shoulder. He’d gotten stalled again, this time by Glory, who clung to his legs like a Lilliputian latching on to a giant invader.

“Why you runnin’ away from him?” asked Zerina.

“Do you really care?”

She considered this. “Not really.” Her pink eyebrows soared. “Oy. Your fangs are showin’.”

“Thanks for the update.” I walked away, trying to seem casual, and headed toward Jessica. She sat alone on a fold-out chair with a gold box on her lap.

“Hey, Jess.”

She looked up at me, her expression similar to that of a heroin addict who’d just shot up. (Discovery Channel, people—watch it, already.) Her lips were smeared with chocolate.

“How many of those one-pounders have you had?”

“This makes three,” she said, clutching the box. “I know, I know! When you consider all that’s wrong in the world, it seems completely selfish to enjoy a wish gone wrong. It’s really, really wrong to suck down three boxes of Godiva truffles. But I have to say, Simone, I am sooooo fucking happy right now.” She plucked a chocolate from the box. “See this? This is an edible orgasm.” She shoved it into her mouth. From the look on her face, I could well believe it. I liked chocolate, too, but wow. That was some serious love right there. Her eyes popped open. “You want one?”

“No,” I said. “Enjoy your diabetic coma.”

She grinned. “Thanks to you and that dumb-ass Flet, I won’t ever have to worry about having one.”

I left Jessica to her truffles. My hunger was acute now, and I knew if I didn’t find a willing neck soon, I might just gnaw on the nearest one.

“Hey, Simone!”

I might’ve been able to ignore the voice had it not belonged to Patsy. I trudged toward her. She and Gabriel stood near the front porch. Another gentleman stood with them. His gray hair was pulled into a long ponytail. He wore the most garish yellow shirt (with pineapples on it, thank you) I’d ever seen, and paired it with black shorts. He also wore hemp flip-flops.

“This is George,” said Patsy.

I peered at him. He looked familiar. Like that comedian. I considered what I was thinking. Nah. I held out my hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Simone Sweet.”

“Groovy.” He shook my hand. I considered him again, and realized he was a vampire. Holy moly. At what human age had he been Turned? He looked at least seventy.

“George will be opening up a facility here in the next year,” said Patsy. Her lips couldn’t decide whether to smile or to grimace.

George nodded. “It’s for vampires who were Turned after the age of sixty. Not many of us, mind you—probably forty or fifty—at least in the United States.”

Who would Turn a senior citizen?

He seemed to realize what I was thinking. He laughed. “Man, we all have our stories. Not all of ’em nice. But even though we have all the powers and our bodies are strong, we weren’t made youthful again.”

“Seventy forever?” I asked.

“Yep.”

“So . . . the facility is a home for elderly vampires?”

The man hooted and slapped his knee. “No, man. We’re opening up a nudist colony.”

  “Seriously?” I looked at Patsy.

She nodded. “Broken Heart’s getting ready to be the safest place in the world for all paranormals. If a bunch of old bloodsucking farts want to walk around naked, I don’t give a shit.” She narrowed her gaze at George. “As long as you do it only in the designated areas. I don’t need children traumatized.” Her brows went up. “Or me. I don’t want to be traumatized, either.”

George put his hands up. “Whatever you say, Queenie.”

“Have you eaten?” asked Gabriel, staring at me. He tapped his mouth. “Your fangs are showing.”

“So I’ve been told. Rick, my donor, never dropped by.”

“You can have my neck,” offered George. He leered comically. “I’m very well aged.”

“Thanks,” I said, “but I always keep my vintage blood in its original bottle.”

George chuckled, then his gaze was drawn to something behind me. “Yowzer. Who’s that good-looking mama?”

I turned and saw my grandmother standing on the porch steps with Libby and Ralph. Their toddler twin boys were settled in the grass a foot away, playing happily with wooden trains.

“The redhead?” I asked. “That’s Libby, and that guy next to her is her husband, Ralph.”

George shot me a look that questioned my IQ. “Not her. The other hot-looking chick.”

“Gran?” I sputtered, my gaze swinging toward my grandmother. Her gray hair was pulled into its usual bun, her skin looking as though someone had created it out of crinkled paper. She was dressed in a blue shirt and khaki shorts. Her feet were encased in her favorite blue house slippers. I don’t think she even owned a pair of real shoes. “Whoa, buddy. You better suck in those fangs. That’s my grandmother.”

“Her name’s Elaine,” offered Patsy, because she was evil. “She’s really nice.”

I turned to glare at Patsy. She shrugged. Her lips pressed together as if to stall a smile; merriment twinkled in her blue eyes.

George took off and I took a step after him, but Patsy said, “Oh, leave him alone. He’s harmless, and your grandmother’s entitled to have a little fun.”

“Vampires aren’t harmless.” I stopped, watching George introduce himself to Libby, Ralph, and Grandma Elaine. Then my two friends defected, claiming their toddlers as they went off to the buffet.

Damn it.

George was a little too close to Gran, and I don’t know what he whispered, but she actually blushed. He didn’t seem to care that she was blind (or old) or human (or old). Guilt snaked through me. She’d sacrificed so much for us. I felt protective, but also uncertain. Gran was more than capable of taking care of herself. And honestly, I hadn’t seen her smile like that in a long time. I supposed that flirting didn’t really have an age limit.

Defeated, I turned back to Patsy and Gabriel. Another person had joined them. I knew right away he was human. He smelled like one, and I heard the beat of his heart, the air in his lungs. I licked my lips, then realized I’d done it. I was starting to feel a little like Wile E. Coyote chasing after the Road Runner.

“This is Shawn,” said Patsy. “And this here’s Simone.” She pushed him toward me. (Way to be subtle, Patsy.) “He’s a new donor. I suggest you get acquainted.”

The idea of gnawing on Shawn’s neck squicked me. I mean, introducing your meal to your vampire was like that scene in Douglas Adams’ The Restaurant at the End of the Universe. You know, the one where the cow comes to the table and insists Arthur choose his cut of meat? Yech.

Shawn was tall (but then nearly everyone was compared to me) with sandy brown hair, kind brown eyes, and a lean build. He seemed nice enough, but I wasn’t too interested in his outsides. I wanted what was chugging through his insides.

“Is there somewhere private we can go?” asked Shawn.

I nodded. I was starving, but I was also nervous about taking a pint from this guy. First-date jitters, if you will.

“Simone?”

Shit. Brady had finally caught up with me. I looked over my shoulder, smiling widely. “Hi there.”

He held out his hand to Shawn. “Braddock Hayes.”

“Shawn Coburn.” He flinched a little at Brady’s hand squeezing.

Their hands dropped and then awkward silence ensued. Brady’s expression was thunderous. Oh, come on. Did he really think I was gonna go off and do something sexual with this guy?

“Shawn’s a donor,” I said, stopping short of adding, “And I’m really hungry, so go away.” I tilted my head at Mr. Don’t Ever Suck My Blood and raised my eyebrows in a do-you-mind gesture.

He relaxed a smidgen, but he still didn’t look happy.

“Okay, then. We gotta go.” I waggled my fingers in a wave that took in Brady, Patsy, and Gabriel and got my ass outta there. I headed toward the house. No, not there. Where else? The barn. I didn’t particularly like the place, but it was farther from the house and offered some privacy.

I walked through the backyard, Shawn following, and headed up the little hill toward the barn. My skin prickled the closer I got to the dilapidated building. It had once been red, but most of the paint had long ago chipped away. Here and there was a spot of color, like the damned thing had measles. The left door listed, hanging at an angle.

The dark gap looked like a monster’s grin.

“Here,” I said, going around the left side. We were still protected from everyone’s view without having to traverse the barn. The tree line was a few feet away, which added to the ominous Friday the 13 th feel. You know, like Jason would jump out any minute and hack us to death.

Shawn looked around, obviously nervous. With vamp vision, dark wasn’t really dark. I realized to Shawn it appeared pitch-black. The kind of dark you didn’t want to be alone in with a vampire.

“Let’s just get this over with,” I said. I felt like I was cheating on Brady because my lips would be on Shawn’s flesh, and on Rick because I was sucking someone else’s blood. Good lord, Simone, you are a piece of work.

“What do we do?”

I narrowed my gaze at him. “Haven’t you done this before?”

“First time for real vampires. I used to be a donor for the wannabes.”

“Wannabes?”

“Yeah. You know the Vampyre Raige?” He pronounced it “vampire rage” and spelled out the words for me.

I shook my head.

“They used blades.” He held up his right arm and I saw thin white scars all over the pale flesh. “Anyway, it doesn’t geek me out or anything. Though I’ve never had anyone use their fangs before.” He thought about his own statement. “Real fangs. I’ve been punctured with the dental fakes.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” I didn’t want to pop this guy’s vampire cherry. I just wanted my pint, and then I wanted to avoid Brady until I felt better about what had happened between us earlier.

“No, no, it’s fine,” said Shawn. He bent his neck and lowered himself so he was fang level to me.

Well, how could I resist that invitation? I sank my fangs into his artery and blood gushed into my mouth.

Ugh!

I yanked away from him so fast, blood spurted. He slapped his hand over the wound and stared at me, wide-eyed.

I spit out as much as I could. It tasted so foul . . . like I was swallowing sewage. I wiped my mouth, then glanced at him. “What the hell did you eat?”

“N-nothing,” he said. Blood was leaking from between the fingers covering his neck. He looked pale and scared.