chapter 9
I frowned, stared at the sheet of paper wadded in my hand and then at the brick stone house. This was interesting.
What had Grace been doing since last we’d met?
A welcome mat with pretty painted birds, flower boxes lining the windows, a flag hung from a flag pole; it all looked so very domestic and cozy, out of place for the type of people we were. Or maybe I didn’t know Grace as well as I thought I did. I’d never have pegged her for the patriotic sort.
“This is 666 Elm St.?” I walked up the steps, gazed up and down the street and shrugged. I shoved the paper in my pocket ready to knock when a gold and wooden placard resting next to the doorbell caught my eye.
It read: Proverbs 25:17. I bit the inside of my cheek, fighting back the laughter. Any doubts I’d had that this was the wrong address fled. Only Grace would do something so obviously intended to insult. That crazy wench had probably put that out just for me. Picturing her tiptoe out the door, wearing nothing but a Mumu and an evil smile, and I couldn’t hold it in anymore.
I laughed, and I forgot the rain, forgot the dead bodies, or my godforsaken existence and gave myself up over to the moment.
The door swung open.
It took me a second to regain my composure. A girl, in her early twenties, mousy, unexceptional, except for the dove colored almond shaped eyes—which were at the moment staring at me like I’d sprouted a second head—stood by the door. I looked over the kid’s shoulder.
“Yes,” she asked, her voice dulcet but wary.
I turned my gaze to her ashen face, noting the small worry lines pinching her brow. I smiled, trying to put her at ease. “I’m here for Grace.”
She yelped, the vein in her neck hammering gunfire quick.
My smile faltered, confused by her reaction. What had I done? I thought that had been a perfectly polite way to ask for someone.
“Sweet Mother of Mary,” she whispered, pointing to my mouth. “Ye’ve got fangs.” The Irish brogue grew thick with agitation.
Ahh. I forgot. I don’t often deal with mortals; those I do are either bespelled or close to death so that a little thing like fangs doesn’t get much in the way. I rounded my hands so they looked like hooks and said in my best big bad wolf impression, “The better to eat you with, my dear.”
To this day, I’m still not sure why I did that. I think I actually got nervous by the wee little lass.
Her face grew stark, pale and bloodless. After a second she found her tongue and screamed, then slammed the door shut.
I blinked. Umm...
The door opened again, this time it was Grace. She was hunched over, hanging onto the frame for support with one hand and swiping her cane at the poor girl’s behind with the other. “Get ye gone, lass. If ye canna keep yer wits about ye, then ye’re of nae use ta me.”
Poor girl, first me, now Grace. I’m not sure which one of the two of us she saw as the bigger monster. Dracula’s bride, or the crazy old biddie swinging her cane like a machete.
Grace turned rheumy blue eyes on me, leaned all of her ninety pounds on the cane and gestured for me to come inside. “Useless,” she muttered, “Order sent her ta take care of me, can ye imagine? Spineless guppy.” This she said loud enough, so that wherever the girl was she’d have no choice but to hear.
I smirked.
“Come, come, before you let in all the rain and ruin me decor, fool girl.” Grace grabbed me by the elbow and pulled me in. It amazed me that a pound woman should be so strong. But then again this was Grace, and she wasn’t like anyone else. “Sit on the divan; I don’t care if ye get that wet.”
“Oh gee, thanks, you sure know how to make a girl feel special.”
“Don’t ye be sassin’ me, girl, or I’ll be givin’ ye a good thwackin’ too.” She shook her cane, threatening to pop me if I didn’t behave.
Her accent was thick; clearly she’d been having a spat with the house girl long before I’d gotten here. Grace was usually the epitome of culture and decorum and when calm there was barely a trace of the Gaelic. I’d have given anything to be a fly on the wall; Grace’s tempers were legendary for their ferocity.
“I think she’s scared of me.” I jerked my chin.
Grace chuckled, the sound pleasant. “Aye, I’m sure she is. Anyone with any sense would be.”
I glanced at her. “You’re not.”
“Ehh.” She shook her head. “All sense left me with age. Sit. Sit.” She pointed.
I sat on the overstuffed burgundy divan that had seen better days, stuffing popped out the seams of the cushion. But in relation to the rest of the house it was tame by comparison. The living room looked as if angels, flowers and Christmas had come and thrown up all over everything.
The couch and recliner were an off putting shade of eggplant, red, green, blue, and gold. A lit fireplace, logs crackling, sat off to my left. Atop the mantle were several angel figurines in varying shapes and sizes. Vases full of roses and lilies sat atop ivory doilies on cherry wood end tables at either side of the furniture. A large, fake green plant—looked like a palm maybe—was parked next to the door leading into the kitchen. Wound through the stems was a twinkling strand of Christmas lights. A burnished gold chandelier with crystal danglers caught the light of the flame, a rainbow of color spun around the room.
This was a chaotic, frightful clash of color.
“What do ye think of me house?” Grace asked, voice low.
She sat on the recliner, four foot five inch frame looking dwarfed by the size of the massive chair. Her feet dangled a good two inches off the ground. My lips quirked, but I said nothing.
“Mary decorated, isn’t it lovely?” Delicate lines of her face twisted into an indignant sneer.
I snorted and she smirked. “Aye, I thought you’d say that.”
“I have to say, I’m surprised to find you in a house. Is this a permanent arrangement?”
She shrugged. “I’m too old to sleep in hotels anymore. Anything other than me bed wrecks havoc on me bones. Besides,” she took a deep breath, “the carnival’s going tae be stayin’ put for a while.”
I frowned, that had sounded ominous and like a clear segue way to more important matters. I shrugged my coat off, sat it aside, then crossed my legs. “So, old bat, I’m here, let’s talk.”
Grace’s eyes twinkled. “I’ve missed you, lass. Good to see you again.”
I smiled. The love I felt from Grace was more than any my true mother had ever shown me. Seeing her was a little like coming home. We never spoke of love, but I felt it all the same.
“Well now,” she took a deep breath, “down to business. You tell me what you know and I’ll tell you what I know.”
“Vamps are crawling everywhere. We’ve killed seven in the past four days.”
“Mmm,” she shook her head, but didn’t seem at all surprised.
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my thighs. “You knew that, didn’t you?”
She expelled a deep breath, shoulders sagging. “Yes, I knew. I’d hoped you’d tell me something different, but I’d heard activity was rising.” She reached over, grabbed an envelope I hadn’t noticed sitting on the end table earlier and handed it to me.
I stood, grabbed, and opened it. A photo fell into my hand. The picture was of a club, the word Sanguinary buzzing red from the light of the neon. If it hadn’t been for the line of people trailing out the door I probably wouldn’t have pegged it as a club at all. It looked more like a meat-packing or textile building. Metal frame, large body; standard packing mill type of place.
“Call me dense, Grace, but what’s this?” I looked at her.
Face void of emotion she said, “That, dearie, is a Vampire club.”
“Actors or the real deal?” There’s always been a subculture of humans who acted the part of vamp. I personally don’t understand the fascination humans have for the mosquitoes, probably had something to do with the romanticized stories of beyond gorgeous baddies who could make all your dreams come true with a little nibble.
Hey, I’ve read Anne Rice too. Lestat... two words: So. Hot.
But that’s why it’s called fiction. Lestat doesn’t exist.
“Aye, the real deal.”
I tried to decide if she was yanking my leg. Grace was one for jokes, but on the other hand she never teased about anything so serious. “Are you screwing with me?”
“Would I do that?”
I lifted a brow.
She smiled. “Aye, I would. But not this time.”
I fidgeted, anger beginning to foam in my belly. “What the hell, Grace? If you’d asked me two weeks ago I’d say the vamps were nearly extinct. But now I see them coming on our turf and this picture—” I shook it, “this... this is bad.”
She nodded. “I know.”
“Are they growing in number again?”
“We can’t be sure.” She shrugged. “This could be a few, or many. We need to find out so we can decide on a course of action.”
“Okay. So,” I dragged out the ‘o’, “do you want us to go in there and kill them? What’s the deal?”
“No.” One word, but it spoke volumes.
I couldn’t believe it. I studied her; she patted a gray strand of hair back into her bun, looking at me with equal frankness.
“That’s right, I said no,” she said, as if reading my mind.
“None of them? What...” My thoughts trailed off. This really didn’t make sense. Since when did we—parasite killers—not kill?
I shivered, then frowned. In a millisecond the room felt as if the temperature had dropped to thirty degrees below freezing. It was cold. I mean, bone deep cold. The type of cold you’d expect to feel if you walked naked through the frozen tundra in the middle of December. I never get cold, except for my feet, which felt like blocks of ice at the moment. Another bout of chill wracked me and when I exhaled a small wisp of frost curled like a sinuous snake through the air.
I was unprepared for the ferocity of that life sucking numbness. My heart thumped a frenetic pace, wild and crazy, out of control. My body flooded with adrenaline, sending it into a hyper arousal state of flight or fight.
I squeezed the cushion, feeling as if my heart were going to explode from my chest. Black spots danced inside my head, I was going to pass out. I tried to control my breathing; I couldn’t hear anything except the rapid beat of my pulse rushing through my ears.
Then as quick as it came, it was gone. I was fine.
I jerked, looked at Grace who was still speaking as if nothing had happened. One look at my face and she stopped. “Pandora?”
“Did you feel that?” I asked, jumping to my feet and started pacing back and forth with the need to burn off the adrenaline coursing like hot acid down my legs.
She looked around, confusion written all over her face. “What?”
Simply thinking about the cold made me shiver all over again. I hugged my arms to my chest. “You can’t tell me you didn’t feel that. It was freezing.”
Her eyes narrowed then widened. “Probably that bloody Mary screwin’ with me thermostat again.” She turned, mouth open as if she meant to scream at the girl.
I laid my hand on her shoulder. “No, don’t bother. It wasn’t her.”
“Are you sure?” She was still studying me, eyes full of worry.
“That was no thermostat problem.” I shook my head, wondering what had happened to me and if I’d imagined it, but quickly dismissed that notion. There was no way I could imagine cold, I’ve never experienced anything like that before in my life and I hoped never to experience it again. I sat, foot bouncing rhythmically on the beige carpet as I worried my bottom lip. I thought several minutes had passed, but Grace hadn’t seemed to skip a beat.
Almost like the world around me had stopped, while I’d kept moving. Weird I know, but it was the only way I could hope to explain it.
Grace looked at my leg, my face. I gestured for her to continue. I needed to focus on the here and now. Grace had no clue what I was talking about, so she wasn’t much help. Maybe later when I had more time to myself I could chew on this, but not now. Now was about the mission, nothing else.
“I’m fine, Grace, really. Now, what were you saying about Sanguinary?”
She looked as if she wanted to say more, but nodded. “Sanguinary, right. Well, you need to get inside the club.”
“A vampire club. You want me to go inside a vampire club?” I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “Grace, you can’t ask me to enter a place like that and play nice.”
“Well, you’re just gonna have to put the old hatred aside and think of the better good, Pandora. A casualty of war is one thing, but you cannot bring attention to yourself. You must fly below the radar; no one inside can suspect you’re anything other than human.”
I snorted. “Yeah, like that’s gonna be possible. Have you taken a good look at me lately?”
“Use your glamour; I don’t care what it takes, but figure out a way.” Her words were sharp and brooked no argument. That age-roughened voice still had a lot of bite left in it when she wanted it to.
“Grace, you know that’s not how my glamour works. I become what my prey wants me to become.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Then find the sickest bastard in there and make yerself ugly!” Her bird chest rose and fell swiftly with the force of her vehemence.
I twisted my lips, razor sharp anger filling my bones. “Don’t push me,” I said softly.
She shook her head, rubbed her temple and sighed. “Forgive me. It’s not you I’m angry at. This whole situation has got me nerves on edge.” Again her accent slipped, she must really be a mess to vacillate this way.
Anger gone, I studied the frail woman sitting before me. She looked as if she’d aged ten years since last I saw her a year ago. Her skin was papery thin, revealing long green and blue veins along her neck and cheeks. Where before she’d had a liver spot or two, now she seemed covered in them from neck to hands. Something was happening, something big. She knew and she wasn’t sharing. My gut told me this was more than a simple case of vamps run wild.
“You’re keeping something from me.”
She smiled, but it lacked humor. “Aye, you’ve always known me too well to try and deny it. I’ve been twisted in knots and praying to the good Lord that it ain’t so, but me fears keep me up at night, Pandora.”
I leaned back and crossed my arms over my chest. If I let her, she’d ramble on and talk circles around me for hours. “Spit it.”
She steepled her fingers, rubbing them together, she took a deep breath as if for strength and finally said, “We believe the vamps are being led by a rogue.”
I swallowed, feeling like the floor beneath me swayed.
I could tell by the nervous flutter of her throat that there was more, and judging by the gleam in her eyes, I wasn’t sure I’d want to hear the rest.
“Pandora, I hate tae ask you this, but has anyone inside your family been acting peculiar lately?”
This time it felt like the floor had opened up and swallowed me. “What are you saying, Grace? You think it’s one of us?”
She spread her hands in an I’m-so-sorry gesture; worry lines carved a path around her mouth and brows. “It’s a question, Dora, nothing more.”
“You can’t know that for sure. You can’t,” I mumbled, there was no way.
The order was fallible, they had to be.
She licked pale lips. “You’re right, dear, we cannot state it as fact. But our scouts have heard terrible rumors and that’s why we need you to go and do this. That’s why it took me so long to call you and set a date. I tried on me own to get verification,” she shrugged, “but humans can only do so much. We havena’ your skill with glamour.”
I felt like I’d just swallowed a bucket of writhing, slimy maggots. My stomach churned, bile rose up my throat and settled on the back of my tongue. It was bad enough that they suspected a rogue neph—we hated killing our kind—but that it might be one of mine. I shuddered.
I might hate Vyxyn, might wish her ill ten ways to Sunday, but to turn on your own family and lead a pack of vermin was beyond belief. I couldn’t believe it, not even from her. But I had to know for sure.
“Yes,” I nodded, “yes, Grace, you can trust me.”
She closed her eyes, as if hearing me say it relieved her of a heavy burden. “Speak of this to no one, until we know who we can trust and who we can’t, it must be kept between us.”
I shook my head. “No. No way. I can’t keep this from Luc.”
She pinned me with a glacial stare.
But on this, I would not budge. She couldn’t honestly expect me to do this on my own without any help whatsoever. I might be strong, but I wasn’t wonder woman. I needed back up. I set my jaw and glowered at her.
“Do you honestly believe in him enough to defy my orders?”
I gave one swift, quick nod. Luc and I have a complicated relationship, there were parts of me that might never trust him fully, but when it came to the well-being of his family, I had no doubt the man would move heaven and earth to keep it safe. That’s how he was. “No doubt in my mind.”
She shrugged. “Then there’s no use in me trying to talk you out of it, but mind you, Pandora, no one else.” She wagged her finger at me.
I spread my hands and smiled. Knowing I had Luc behind me alleviated much of my doubt. “Fine.”
“Well then.” Grace patted down her floral patterned skirt. “If there’s nothing else...”
“Actually.” I bit my thumb nail, I’d debated for days whether or not to bring this up with Grace, but finally reasoned that any help I might get to rid me of my pest would be worth sharing it, even though my gut screamed at me to keep Billy to myself. I ignored it, my obsession with the man would not blind me to what needed to be done.
“Yes,” she prompted.
“I have a priest problem.”
She went still, face impassive. I could usually read Grace’s moods as if they were my own, but this time she gave nothing away.
“What do ye mean?” I had to strain to hear her ask it.
Suddenly I wished I hadn’t said anything. Not because of her reaction but because of mine. My palms were sweating; my heart was thumping so fast it felt like I was on speed. Billy was my problem, not hers. I shouldn’t have said anything. I should have listened to my gut and said nothing.
“Nothing, never mind,” I waved my hand, “forget I said it.”
“Have you seen him?”
I bit my bottom lip and nodded, fighting back the stomach churning urge to protect the thing trying to kill me.
“You saw him and lived?”
I said nothing, feeling like I had a watermelon trapped in my throat.
“What was his name?”
“I don’t know.” The lie was out my mouth before I even had time to formulate it. I doubted Billy was his real name, but if it was a well known alias, I wouldn’t give it away either.
She narrowed her eyes, studying me hard, as if searching me for hidden clues or lies. But I knew how to bluff with the best of them. I gave her wide innocent eyes that screamed: trust me, don’t you trust me? Grace was as human as the rest of them and she fell prey to the charm.
She nodded, apparently satisfied and I had to bite back my sigh of relief.
“You know,” she shook her hand, “we’ve catalogued the priests’—”
What I wanted to say was: “I bloody knew it!” what I wound up saying was, “Oh really?”
“Mmm. Yes.” She pounded her cane on the floor. “Mary!” she trilled, her voice going harpy screech loud. “Come here, girl.”
Color bloomed in Grace’s cheeks; blue eyes twinkled with excitement when she turned back around to face me. “I knew someday this would come in handy. I told Geoffrey when he made it, not to throw it away and I’m so glad I had the foresight to keep it.”
I had no idea what she was talking about, but her excitement was contagious. “What?”
“A talisman.” She frowned, brows thinning into white slashes as she looked over her shoulder at the still empty doorway. “How many times do I have to call for service around here? Get yer lily white rear over here, Mary.” She stamped her cane down in such a fit of anger that I was surprised she didn’t tear a chunk out of the carpet.
I heard a crash of dishes in the kitchen, then saw Mary white as a sheet racing out the door, nearly tripping over herself to get to Grace.
“Sorry, Ma’am, I didn’t hear ya.”
“I’m older than ye and I can hear better. I’ll send ye back to the order I will.”
Tears squeezed out the corners of the large gray eyes. “I’m sorry, Ma’am, don’t send me back. Please.” She squeezed her hands together. “Find it in yer heart tae forgive me. What can I do to make it better, Miss Grace?”
Grace grabbed her skull, growling. “Oh stop with the wheedlin’, girl, so unbecomin’.”
I hid my smile behind my hand. I didn’t envy the girl. There wasn’t enough money in the world to tempt me to work for Grace. I wondered if Mary had done something deserving of this kind of torment. Grace’s anger was legendary. Though normally it was a cold anger, not this blow-up-in-your-face-scream-and-holler, kind of thing.
“Go to me locker,” Grace said, “and bring me the talisman.”
“Which one, Ma’am?” If Mary had been a boy her Adam’s apple would have been bobbing furiously.
“The only one I’ve got ye idiotic chit!”
I didn’t think it was possible, but Mary’s eyes grew even wider, she turned on her heels and ran.
Grace sighed.
“Not that I have much room to speak here, but don’t you think you’re being a tad hard on the girl?”
She gave a weak, slightly self-conscious chuckle. “Aye. Probably. I’m trying my hardest to get her to leave, seems the worse I am the more she wants to stay. I dunna understand young people these days. Makes no fool sense.”
I shrugged. “She likes you.”
“Aye, and I wish she wouldn’t. It’s like the order’s telling me I’m too old to take care of myself, bloody bastards. Well I won’t die yet.” She pounded her cane for emphasis. “Even if they think I should.”
I smiled.
Mary returned moments later, carrying a black velvet pouch. She handed it to Grace then proceeded to bow obsequiously the entire way back into the kitchen.
I snorted and Grace eyed me evilly. “You try livin’ with one of those, see how you like it. Judgin’ me,” she muttered beneath her breath and then tossed me the tiny sack. “There.”
I started to open it.
“No.” It was a one word command. “Do not open it now. I don’t want you accidentally triggering a catastrophe atop our heads.”
“What is it, Grace?”
“A ring.”
“How do I use it?”
“You’ll know, it’s easy enough to figure out. There’s only one word of caution.”
I felt the hard lump, trying to imagine how such a small thing could bring dark, dangerous, and seductive to his knees. An image of Billy on his knees before me, made me squirm. Mmm...
“Are you listening?” Grace snapped her fingers, irritation written all over her face.
I gave my best innocent smile. “Say that again, would you?”
She rolled her eyes. “Between you and Mary, I don’t know who’s worse.”
I laughed.
“I said, do not open it in front of anyone but the priest. Humans must not see this kind of power.”
“What’s it do?”
Grace gave her best cat that snared the canary grin. “Let’s just say, it’s hell on a person.”