One Grave at a Time by Jeaniene Frost
“Toast? No, that is not what I burn,” he replied, his expression showing that he savored each word.
If I hadn’t known that Bones was in the cellar working on this murdering prick’s trap as we spoke, I’d have turned around and gone right back inside. But that would only mean more damage to the house that we’d have to take time away from the trap to repair; plus it would let Kramer know that he’d gotten to me. My biggest motivator for staying, however, was simple: Every second that Kramer was out here pissing me off meant he wasn’t tormenting the last woman he’d picked out. Elisabeth still hadn’t found her, and our research efforts hadn’t turned her up yet, either. I wasn’t alone, with no one believing me about the torment the ghost dished out, like she was. I could stand here and deal with him because it was all I could do for that woman until we found out who she was and brought her to Spade and Denise.
“You’re going to have a lonely Halloween this year, what with Francine and Lisa being out of reach,” I noted coolly. “And what will you do when we find the last woman—and we will, my snaggle-toothed friend. Then the only things you’ll be toasting with your temporarily fleshy paws are marshmallows.”
That got me the curses I’d expected earlier. Some of it was in English, some in German, but I was getting pretty well versed at recognizing certain words, so I got the gist of it.
“Blah blah blah, I’m a slutty witch, and the fires of hell await me, blah. You really need some new material. My mother can curse me out better than that.”
A porch board went sailing at me. I knocked it aside with one hand, the other still wrapped around the sage jar. Kramer wouldn’t dare to attempt one of those energy punches at me as long as I had that close by, and those punches hurt a lot more than random objects if he got lucky and the next one he threw landed on me.
“I’ve been thinking of what I’m going to wear this Halloween,” I said, as if a board being chucked at me wasn’t worth interrupting my train of thought. “I haven’t dressed up for it in ages, but you’ve inspired me. I think I’ll go as Elphaba from Wicked. She was a misunderstood witch who had a mob after her, but she tricked them and won in the end. Heartwarming, right?”
More curses, this time insulting not only me, but the womb that bore me and the dark lord who fathered me. That part, at least, Kramer got right. My father was a Class A asshole. He and Kramer had that in common. They’d have everything in common soon if I got my way. My dad was currently serving a life sentence consisting of truly cruel and unusual punishments, from what I’d heard.
“I just love our talks,” I went on, avoiding the three new boards that he hurtled at me. “I’m not really sure what you get out of them, but they’re good for me. Why, last night, I took some curtain scraps and a few slivers of board pieces and made a little Kramer doll. Then I ripped its arms and legs off before driving a nail up its ass. I mean, if you hadn’t come by yesterday, I wouldn’t have thought to do that—”
“You will die in flames!” Kramer roared, zooming up so close to me that the smoke from my jar of sage brushed him before he caught himself and pulled back. I didn’t move, not wanting to give Kramer the satisfaction of even a flinch. His gaze bored into mine with cruelty too deep to be madness, and when he bared those repellant teeth at me, I couldn’t help but think that when he was alive, his breath would’ve stunk enough for me to smell it from a dozen feet away.
“I don’t think so.”
My voice was steady, and I didn’t blink as I stared back at him. “I’m a vampire, so it’s possible for me to die by fire if it’s big enough, and I can’t get away, but I’m guessing I’ll die one day at the hands of some Master vampire who’s stronger, faster, and just plain luckier with a silver knife. You, on the other hand, won’t ever die, will you? You’ll stay stuck in that air cloud you call a body, watching the world pass you by while you can’t do anything except rage at it, and most of the time, no one in it can hear you. Me? I’d rather be dead than that.”
Kramer didn’t move, but I felt his fury in the coldness that rolled across my skin, as if the air had dipped ten degrees in the past few seconds. Then, a ripple flowed across his body like a rock skipped across a pond, making him hazy for the barest moment before he flared into full living color. His tunic wasn’t brown, it was gray with mud splatters all over it, and his eyes were deeper green than the pale color they’d looked before. He had pockmarks in his skin that the haziness and his stubbly white beard had concealed, and his silvery hair still held faint streaks of blond.
Without reaching out my hand, I knew he was now as solid as I was. Elisabeth had looked much more vivid when she’d been flesh, and so did her murderer.
“Is that mud from the old misguided idea that putrefied flesh equated to holiness, or from you landing in a big puddle when Elisabeth incited your horse to throw you and break your neck?” I asked softly. “I wonder how long you can hold on to that flesh before it’s gone. Two minutes, maybe three?”
As I asked the question, I silently dared him to make a move. Please, oh please, try to hit me. I so want to show you what I can do against an opponent who isn’t made of air!
Kramer smiled. Those teeth were more vivid, too, and that wasn’t a good thing.
“What you should wonder is how many more witches I must burn before I am powerful enough to wear flesh every day instead of merely one,” he drew out, each word falling like a drop of poison. “I think not many.”
“You think burning women alive will turn you back into a real boy?” God, was he a sick bastard!
That nauseating smile widened. “Fear strengthens me just as blood feeds your miserable kind. I drew strength from sighted mortals until I was able to appear to whomever I chose. It took centuries of that before I could wear flesh again, and it lasted only minutes. Yet after I burned my first trio of witches on Samhain, I was whole for an hour. Now each witch I send to the flames provides me with such a feast of terror that it strengthens me like nothing you could imagine. In time, I will not be limited to walking the earth only on Samhain but will reside in flesh whenever I choose.”
Even though I knew that Bones would chew me out for leaving the smoke-filled safety of the house behind me, I couldn’t resist lunging forward and whipping my fist across Kramer’s jaw as hard and fast as I could. It connected with a crunch that was so satisfying, I’d swung another one before I could think, breaking the sage jar across his face because I still had it gripped in my other hand.
Kramer disappeared before the glass shards fell to the porch. Pain blasted in my gut, though, letting me know he hadn’t gone far. I backed up, hitting the doorframe in my haste, grabbing a handful of the smoking sage before Kramer could go in for another blow. Or before the porch caught fire, which would be even worse.
“If you’re done playing with that sod, care to move away from the door? Or will you make me knock you over?” an English voice drawled.
I’d been so concentrated on Kramer, waiting for a glimpse of those telltale dark swirls or—even better—another chance to connect a blow to his temporarily solid flesh, that I’d let my other senses become lax. Ian strolled across the remains of the bean field, one hand grasped tight on my mother’s upper arm and the other holding a large wad of smoldering sage. He must’ve flown them both in. Good thing, because if he’d driven, Kramer would have another car to trash before the night was through.
“Kramer’s out here,” I warned them, glancing around but still not seeing where the ghost had gone off to.
Ian snorted. “That’s why I said you need to move.” Then he picked my mother up, flying toward the door like they’d been fired out of a gun. I moved out of the way just in time to avoid being barreled over.
“Take your hands off me,” my mother snapped once she was vertical instead of horizontal.
“Now that we’re here, I will,” Ian replied, letting her go. She stepped back several paces, but Ian just brushed off some lint from his clothes as if he couldn’t care less. Then he looked around at what u
“I say, Reaper, this place looks almost as dreadful as the one I grew up in. Is all this from that pesky ghost?”
“The very same,” I said dryly. Kramer started up a whole new batch of curses at this interruption, revealing that he was still on the porch, but Ian and my mother weren’t here because they’d missed us, so something must be going on. “Let’s go into the cellar where the three of us can have a little more . . . privacy.”
The grin Ian flashed me made me relieved to see white, even teeth again, but I should’ve noticed that it was steeped in wickedness.
“I’ve had mothers and daughters at the same time before, but you’re Crispin’s wife, so I must regretfully decline.”
“You are such a pig!” my mother exclaimed, saving me the trouble of saying it.
Another spate of English and German came from the porch. Looked like Kramer thought Ian was a pig, too. In this one and only one thing, we were in agreement.
“Buh-bye, asshole,” I told the ghost. Then I shut the front door, Kramer still bitching on the other side of it, and swept out a hand to Ian. “Follow me. Once we’re downstairs, you can tell me and Bones the real reason you’re here, aside from amusing yourself with sleazy remarks.”
“Oh, I’ll tell you right now,” he replied smoothly. “Your dear mum tried to eat one of the women you’re attempting to save.”
Twenty-eight
The cellar seemed much smaller with the four of us in it. Tyler sat at the top of the stairs, the door cracked so he could get enough clean air to breathe, but not open all the way because we didn’t want a certain nosy ghost to overhear our conversation.
I didn’t need to ask my mother if Ian was correct. The instant guilt that flashed across her face when he made his unbelievable statement was answer enough for me. What I waited to ask until all of us were underground was one simple question.
“What the hell happened, Mom?”
“It was an accident,” she muttered, looking at the plain wooden wall instead of me. “It wouldn’t happen again.”
“Yes it would, and if you bit Denise the next time, Charles would kill you no matter whose mother you were,” Ian stated.
I rubbed my forehead against the mental image Ian described. If my mother bit Denise and tasted her demonically-altered, drugging blood, Spade would kill her. He’d do it even though it would cause a huge rift between him and Bones because of me, not to mention how it would horrify Denise. But the lengths a vampire would go to in order to protect his spouse superseded all other bonds.
“You did the right thing bringing her here,” Bones said to Ian, and I had to agree. I’d thought keeping her with Spade and Denise would be safer, but not if she was still struggling with her hunger enough to attempt feeding from people who were off the menu.
“What triggered this, Mom? Do you know, so we can prevent it from happening again?”
“Ah, and here’s the richest part,” Ian said, elbowing my mother.
She smacked at his arm, still not making eye contact with anyone in the room. “I’ve got it under control now.”
Ian laughed out loud at that. “No vampire can stop feeding and be under any control for long, my pretty little imbecile.”
I was so stunned by his statement that I didn’t react to the insult. “You haven’t been feeding? But all those times you went out saying you were going to—”
“Lies, lies, lies,” Ian said cheerfully. “I’m the last person to judge for that, but she actually thought she could sustain herself by sucking the blood out of raw meat packages—and while that’s funny in a dozen different ways, it’s not practical in the least.”
Bones had his emotions tamped down, a sign that whatever he was feeling toward her right now wasn’t something he wanted to share with me. If it was anything like my emotions, he wanted to shake her while screaming, Are you out of your fucking mind? With everything going on, you have to decide that you’re going to be the world’s only vegetarian vampire? Did it ever occur to you what would happen if your brilliant plan didn’t WORK?
But I said none of those things, partly because it was clear Ian had already given her his unedited opinion on her ill-fated scheme, and also because she looked like she was about to cry. I could count on one hand the times I’d seen my mother cry, and it wasn’t something I wanted to see again, let alone cause.
“Okay,” I said, taking in a deep breath to quell the part of me that still wanted to go with the shake-and-scream approach. “How long have you been attempting to live off meat package blood?”
“Since I quit the team,” she mumbled. “Tate used to give me bagged plasma, but once I left, I knew that wouldn’t happen anymore, so I tried to find an alternative.”
My eyes bugged as I calculated the time. Bones still said nothing, his face carefully expressionless and his aura closed off like a vault. Tyler wasn’t nearly as locked down in his reaction. Bitch, you are SO lucky you didn’t try to eat my dog, rang across my mind.
“Okay.” My voice was almost a squeak with my incredulity. “That didn’t work, so, uh, who’d you try to eat?”
She said nothing, worrying her lower lip between teeth that were harmlessly flat at the moment.
“Francine got frightened by a noise and cut herself after squeezing a sage glass too hard,” Ian supplied. “Your mum pounced on her and started sucking away. Would’ve been arousing if not for all the screaming.”
“Ian,” Bones drew out warningly.
He grinned. “You’re right. I was aroused anyway.”
I punched him in the chest without even thinking about it. My mother’s bottom lip quivered.
“I didn’t mean to. I just couldn’t stop myself.”
“Of course you couldn’t. You’re a vampire.”
The exasperated statement came not from me, though I’d been thinking it, or from the other two vampires in the room. It came from Tyler, who climbed down the stairs even though the increased smoke made him cough.
“You know: fangs, flashy green eyes, and superspeed? All that caught your attention already?” At her scoff, he added, “So why’d you think you could opt out of the ‘drinking human blood’ part?”
“I refuse to tear into someone’s flesh, holding them down and stealing their blood . . .” Something dark flashed across her expression before her features twisted in pain. “I won’t do that again. Ever.”
Her tone hardened at that last word, and I knew she was remembering her first days as a vampire when the prick who sired her threw in humans with her. It took the last of my anger from me, though a bucketload of frustration still remained.
“There’s no need to harm anyone when you feed, Justina,” Bones said. “But as you’ve discovered, you can’t wish away your need for blood, and animal blood will not suffice for long.”
“Maybe I just need more of it. There wasn’t a lot in those meat packages,” she insisted.
A mental image of my mother sneaking around at night to suck on cattle or goats crossed my mind. What if that was the real source of the Chupacabra legend, and they were actually vampires in denial like she was? Nothing would surprise me right now.
“You could drink a slaughterhouse dry, and you’d still lust over the first human you chanced upon,” Ian replied pitilessly. “Be easier on our kind if we didn’t need human blood, but we do, and you’re no exception.”
“Even if I wouldn’t hurt them, I refuse to force anyone to give me their blood by ripping away their willpower,” my mother said. “So unless I start stealing from blood banks, I don’t see another solution.”
“Drink me.”
My head swung in Tyler’s direction with almost the same amount of disbelief my mother showed. Tyler shrugged.
“None of her concerns apply with me because I’m offering, so she won’t be ripping away my willpower, and she damn sure won’t be holding me do
“Are you sure?” I’d hate for him to feel pressured because he was the only person here with a pulse. We could make other arrangements. Lots of vampires had willing donors. A few phone calls, and we could have a donor here although that person would have to leave right away because of Kramer and his whole kill first, say hello later tendency.
“I’d rather have her drink a little from me now with someone here to control her than sit around waiting for her to lose it again.” Then Tyler’s stare turned pointed as he looked at my mother. “And you will lose it again. You’re already looking at me like I’m a big juicy steak. Can’t kick you out, either. Cat would just worry herself sick about you and every other fool near enough for you to bite.”
Then he turned to Bones, folding his arms. This offer ain’t free, but we’ll talk price when Mama’s not here, and so you know? I don’t come cheap, he thought at him in a clear, concise way.
I had no qualms about paying him. That seemed a far better trade than Tyler’s offering out of guilt or compulsion. The barest smile touched Bones’s mouth. He nodded once, and Tyler rolled up his sleeve, holding his bare arm out.
“I didn’t say I would do this,” my mother argued, but her gaze welded onto the veins throbbing beneath his coffee-colored skin.
Ian snorted. “I’ve never heard a less convincing protest.”
“You’re doing this, and you’re doing it now,” I told her sternly. “Tyler’s right. You’re a danger to him and every other human until you get your hunger under control, and I know you don’t want to hurt anyone by accident.”
I didn’t say again, but the word hung unspoken in the air. My mother tore her gaze away from Tyler’s flesh to look first at me, then Bones. She squirmed.
“I can’t do it with you two watching me,” she finally stated.
“What?” I sputtered.
She waved an impatient hand. “It’s too weird. You’re my daughter, and he”—she looked at Bones, who flashed her an impudent grin—“he’s too arrogant,” she finished.