11
At some point, your childe may challenge you to a fight. Try not to beat the childe too badly. Imagine having your mother knock you into unconsciousness. It would be emotionally scarring on several levels.
—Siring for the Stupid:
A Beginner’s Guide to Raising Newborn Vampires
I knew that Gabriel was feeling better when he threw Jamie through a wall.
Tension in the house had been increasing since I went back to work. I think Grandma Ruthie was making her presence known by moving cell phones and checkbooks and anything else we needed. She would hover over us in our sleep, whispering. She’d pop up behind us in mirrors and corners of rooms. Aunt Jettie was spending most of her time patrolling the grounds with Mr. Wainwright, but every time she sensed Grandma Ruthie materializing, she’d pop into the house. The amount of energy she was expending left her exhausted.
Gabriel and Jamie were increasingly cranky with each other. Gabriel’s recovery from the poisoning was slow. We figured out that several small meals of donor blood throughout the night healed him a lot faster than bottled synthetic, but he was still pale and weak. He was able to get out of bed, but he hobbled like a man who was nearing his bicentennial birthday. Feeling weak, dependent, brought out the worst in him. He was still loving and appreciative of me, but everything about Jamie set his fangs on edge.
Little disputes over dirty laundry on the floor and sorting the recycling became screaming matches. Gabriel would corner me and complain about my “inconsiderate bratling” of a childe. Jamie would pout in his room until I came to investigate his absence, then make forced confessions of how much easier life would be without Gabriel living with us.
Things at the shop weren’t much better. Once word got around that I was back to work, every other person who came through the door asked me to turn them. I heard every sob story possible, from terminal illness to needing a few extra decades to pay off student loans. Oddly enough, my vampire clientele increased. It was as if I’d passed some sort of test. I was a “real” vampire now.
The vandalism had dropped off completely with the installation of the security cameras. The only glimpse we’d caught of the perpetrators was a hunting boot as the person stepped just a tiny bit into the frame, saw the camera, and ran away.
I lived on edge, fearful of what each evening would bring. I was afraid of walking to the door every night. I was afraid to let Gabriel get too close to the windows. I tried to devote my attention to wedding details, to something hopeful, but with Iris on the case, there wasn’t much for me to do. After deciding on the Austen theme, she’d pretty much run the show, sending me daily progress reports and emailing pictures of the invitations, linens, and other items she’d arranged. And then Jamie got a look at the old-fashioned morning coat Gabriel would be wearing and nearly fell over laughing—which started another argument, which sent me running for work early that night.
So when I came home and heard the commotion from the driveway, I gritted my teeth and stomped up the front porch steps. At this point, I was hoping that the happy archer had broken into our home for a rumble, because I didn’t think I could put up with much more step-sire drama. How could Jerry Springer not have featured this on his show yet?
I opened the door to find Gabriel growling as he pinned Jamie to the wall by his throat. Panic rippled up my spine. I knew there had been an edgy tension between the two of them, but I never thought Gabriel would lose control of himself like this. He looked like one of those angry stepdads you saw in domestic-violence PSAs.
“What is going on here?” I yelled.
Gabriel’s eyes darted toward me, and Jamie took advantage of this and punched Gabriel in the jaw. He followed through the swing, clipping Gabriel’s chin with his elbow.
Gabriel’s hands closed over Jamie’s throat and squeezed. Jamie clawed at his hands, finally breaking the hold by punching him in the chest. Gabriel dropped to the ground, sliding his feet against Jamie’s legs, knocking him forward. He hooked his hands under Jamie’s arms and tossed him as he rolled onto his back. Jamie yelped as he flew through the air and flopped bonelessly against the wall, which buckled under the impact. Jamie’s legs flopped through the drywall. From my vantage point, I could see his feet resting in the parlor and his torso stretching into the hall.
“Gabriel! Jamie! Stop it, this instant!”
“Hi, Jane!” Jamie said brightly. Gabriel took advantage of this lapse in attention and socked Jamie in the mouth.
Aunt Jettie materialized at my elbow. She looked amused but sheepish. “We tried to stop them, sweetheart, but it was too entertaining.”
Mr. Wainwright appeared next to her and added, “Did you know that Jamie used to wrestle with his friends in his backyard and upload the footage to YouTube?”
“Y-YouTube?” I spluttered. “What?”
“Jamie’s signature move was getting hit in the back with a folding chair,” Jettie said, a gleeful glint in her eyes. “I tried to find one in the garage, but I think your grandma Ruthie came over last year and ‘borrowed’ the card table and chairs for her bridge club.”
“Wait, wait—Gabriel, Jamie, what in the name of SpongeBob are you doing?”
“Gabriel was just showing me some moves,” Jamie said, elbowing Gabriel in the gut. Gabriel grunted and punched Jamie in the kidney. “We were watching Underworld, and Gabriel said Selene’s movements were ‘preposterous and tactically ill advised.’ ” The accurate yet slightly exaggerated pomposity in Jamie’s imitation of Gabriel sent a little shiver down my spine.
“Given the latex catsuit she was wearing, I tend to agree,” I mused.
Jamie grinned at me. “He tried to show me how one of the fight scenes would look in the real world.”
“And that ended in the partial destruction of a house that survived the Civil War, how?” I asked.
“Everything after the first hammerlock gets a little hazy,” Gabriel confessed, shaking his head as if there were something loose inside.
Jamie grinned and helped Gabriel up off the floor. Gabriel slapped him on the back and chuckled. They seemed to have bonded over beating each other senseless. I moaned and scrubbed a hand over my face. For the first time, I felt truly outnumbered in my own home. I thought perhaps I was better off when they were pointedly ignoring each other. Still, it seemed like a step in the right direction for Gabriel. He hadn’t had this much exercise in weeks. His face was no longer the color of overboiled oatmeal, and he was moving as if he had cartilage in his joints.
“Call the contractor to get this fixed. And try to stay away from the load-bearing walls, OK?” Jamie struggled up from the floor and tossed Gabriel into the kitchen by his ears. “On second thought, why don’t you take this outside?”
I turned toward Aunt Jettie and Mr. Wainwright, who were already phasing through the door to check the woods around the house for intruders.
“I’m going to get a snack. I’ll be right out,” Jamie called, jogging into the kitchen. Gabriel met him at the doorway, elbow-checking him as he walked out, and then turned his attention to me.
“You worry me,” I told Gabriel as his arms slipped around my waist. “You worry me so much.” Gabriel slipped his hands under my shirt, tracing my ribs with his fingertips.
“I take it you’re feeling better?” I asked him.
He gave me a lopsided grin as he brushed kisses along my jaw.
“We can’t,” I whispered as he nipped at my earlobe and did that thing with his tongue that made my eyelids flap like window shades.
“We can’t what?”
“We can’t …” I made a meaningful eye gesture that in feminine circles meant “sex” or maybe “over there.” “Jamie’s just down the hall … and he has superhearing.”
“He’s a big boy, Jane. I’m pretty sure he knows that we have intimate relations.”
“Oh, why did you say it like that?” I groaned. “That’s what my grandma called it.”
Gabriel shuddered, dropping his hands away from my breasts and scooting away from me. “Well, bringing up your grandmother effectively prevented all future erections, so thank you.”
“I’m just uncomfortable with the idea of him being in the house when we’re having …” Don’t say “intimate relations.” Don’t say “intimate relations.”
“Happy Naked Fun Time?” Gabriel suggested.
“Exactly.” I nodded.
“So, what’s your suggestion?” he asked. “Are we going to resort to outdoor sex for the duration of his stay?”
“Not with Gabriel-hating archers waiting outside our door.”
“Is that supposed to be funny?” he asked.
“I thought it was pretty funny!” Jamie yelled from the kitchen. “And yes, I can hear you. Every word. And I do not want to be anywhere near Happy Naked Fun Time.”
Gabriel’s jaw went slack with horror, and I burst out laughing.
“Sinners!” Jamie yelled.
I backed toward the door, giving Gabriel a positively sinful smile. I’d closed my hand around the doorknob just as a knock sounded on the other side. Gabriel was at my side in a flash. He looked through the peephole and pulled the door open. Ophelia was standing on the other side. In place of her usual outfits, she was wearing khaki capri pants and a cute red-checked summer blouse with cap sleeves. Her thick brown hair was smoothed back with a little red headband, for goodness sake. She looked as if she was heading to a church picnic.
I wondered who, if anyone, stayed with Georgie while Ophelia was out. She was often running around on Council business. Did she pop in a DVD for Georgie and hope for the best? Would a four-hundred-year-old child be offended if you got her a babysitter? Given her reference to plague rats, I would guess yes. But I knew that referring to Ophelia’s baby sister in front of Gabriel would not improve my tenuous rapport with my local Council representative. So, for the first time, I kept my mouth shut in front of Ophelia.
“You seem to be healing quickly enough,” Ophelia said, her tone dry, as she eyed Gabriel’s arm slung around my shoulders.
Gabriel cleared his throat and immediately became prim, proper, public Gabriel, which he always seemed to do when Ophelia was around. “Yes, I am.”
“You know, it’s customary to invite someone in when they’re standing on your doorstep,” she said, smiling sweetly.
“Won’t you please come in, Ophelia?” I asked, making an exaggerated sweeping gesture with my arm, like a game-show hostess on crack.
Rolling her eyes at me and looking very much her physical age, she strolled past me. She caught sight of the mangled interior wall and turned. “Remodeling?”
“Male bonding,” I responded, at which Gabriel nudged me in the ribs.
Ophelia chuckled. “Yes, that’s why I stopped by. I wanted to see how you and your young charge are getting along. I was a little concerned after our conversation. Between your siring duties and your usual personal peccadilloes, I would hate for you to be overwhelmed.”
“Peccadilloes?” I parroted. “That’s a bit unfair. Troubles? Sure. Drama? Certainly. But peccadilloes makes me sound like something out of a Wilkie Collins novel.”
“Jane is doing a fine job with Jamie,” Gabriel told her. “Considering.”
“Considering?” I turned toward Gabriel to give him a scathing glare.
“It’s a figure of speech,” he assured me.
“An insulting figure,” I grumbled. “I’m doing just fine. Our discussion the other day helped put things in perspective for me.”
She gave me a small smile, then turned that frank, disconcerting gaze on Gabriel. “I understand that congratulations are in order. I was a little insulted that you didn’t tell me earlier. You know that the Council tracks all vampire marriages.”
“Well, we have been a little busy, what with the parenting and the poisoning and all,” I said.
Ophelia’s smile widened. “Yes, I received Dick’s test results, which were quite impressive, by the way. The array of toxins used can leave no doubt about what the archer intended. Waco and Peter were somewhat concerned that yours was a test case, a dry run, so to speak, for attempts on other vampires. So, if nothing else, we can use connections with local businesses to watch for humans buying large quantities of rat poison and aspirin. Forewarned is forearmed and all that. I only ask that you let the Council handle any lab testing in the future. We know you’re very resourceful when you need to be, but if there was a deeper investigation into the matter, we would want to be able to prove that the samples were not tampered with.”
“I will definitely take advantage of that in the future. I don’t think I can afford frequent access to Dick’s connections.”
“I know what you mean,” she said. “Do you have any idea how expensive children’s footwear from the 1930s can be, even with the ‘Dick Cheney discount’?”
“I can honestly say, no.”
“Why would you need—” Gabriel began to ask.
“Never mind,” Ophelia and I chorused.
“Did you know that Bud McElray had a brother?” Ophelia asked, watching me carefully.
I subtly shifted my gaze toward Gabriel, whose hand closed over my shoulder in a comforting squeeze. “It’s all right, Jane.”
“How does she know about Bud?” I asked. It wasn’t exactly a secret among our friends, but I thought we’d been able to keep Gabriel’s tree-pushing tendencies off of the Council’s radar.
“I had to tell her,” Gabriel assured me. “When she was investigating you for murder, she demanded the complete story of your turning. I named Bud as the hunter responsible for your shooting. When he turned up dead, she connected the dots.”
“And you’re not in trouble for it?”
“He was given a rather large fine,” Ophelia conceded. “The only thing that saved him from the Trial was that Mr. McElray wouldn’t be missed by outspoken family members, and Gabriel had managed his little bit of revenge without stirring up much public interest.”
“Is that why you asked about Bud’s brother?”
“Did you know him?”
“His name’s Ray McElray,” I said, shrugging. “His grandma went to church with my parents, so the only information I have is from ‘prayer concerns’ about him and his brother.”
Ophelia’s confused expression prompted me to imitate my mother’s voice. “Please pray for poor Velma as she had to sell ten acres to pay for Bud’s fourth stint in rehab. And please pray for Ray as he begins his community service for assaulting a meter reader.”
Gabriel shuddered. “We’ve talked about that voice, Jane.”
Ophelia snickered. Rolling my eyes, I added, “He was a big-deal football player in his day, took the Howlers closer to state than they’d ever been, before or since. He actually went to college for two semesters before he blew out his knee and his scholarship got pulled.”
“Do you know where he is now?”
“Yeah, he’s in jail,” I said, trying to remember the last bit of gossip Mama had shared with me about Ray. “He has been since about two years before I was turned. You know those big reels of scratch-off lottery tickets they have at the front of convenience stores?” Gabriel nodded. “Well, Ray kicked in the front of the Quickie Stop and stole one of them.”
“That’s … surprisingly clever,” Gabriel said.
“It would have worked out, too, except that when you claim scratch-off winnings of more than six hundred dollars, you have to present valid identification. He was smart enough to redeem his winning tickets at different stores around the area, but the lottery board noticed when one man claimed more than seventy thousand dollars in scratch-off winnings within a twenty-mile radius of where a reel of tickets had been reported stolen. Still, it’s far more respectable than Bud’s antics, which included peeing in a public fountain during a Memorial Day service.”
Ophelia’s lips twisted into a disdainful moue. “And if I told you that Ray had recently been paroled? And hasn’t reported to his parole officer in two weeks?”
“So, wait, you think the arrow has something to do with Gabriel’s pushing the tree on top of Bud McElray?” I turned to Gabriel. “You mean, they really are after you, not me?”
“It’s possible,” he conceded.
“Oh, OK, then.”
Gabriel scowled at me. “And by OK, I’m sure you mean, ‘Oh, my love, whatever will I do if you come to harm?’ ” he said dryly.
“No, it’s just that I’m so used to people coming after me, it’s kind of a refreshing change of pace.”
Gabriel pinched his nose as if he was trying to ward off a headache.
“It’s my ability to find the silver lining in any situation that endears me to you,” I reminded him. I turned to Ophelia. “I don’t suppose you’ve taken Ray into custody for questioning and this whole thing could be wrapped up tidily in the next few days?”
Ophelia gave me a patronizing smirk. “Of course not. We haven’t been able to track him down, either. He has no family in the area, no property. It’s like he stepped out of the facility in Eddyville and disappeared. And considering that he’s being tracked by creatures with supernatural hunting instincts, that’s quite the accomplishment.”
“It makes sense. Mama said Ray … went a little survivalist after the college-dropout thing. He lived in these little hunting shanties he’d built out in the woods behind his grandparents’ place, till the house was repossessed and he sort of became a permanent camper out at the state park. When he went to jail, his camper was towed to an impound lot, and Bud got his pickup truck.”
“How could you possibly get that many details from gossip your mother mentioned in passing years ago?” Ophelia asked.
“Wacko survivalist lotto thieves tend to stand out in my memory. The human grapevine works just like the vampires’ gossip circuit,” I said. “It’s just a little more oriented around coffee and cake.”
She cleared her throat. “Yes, we’ll be seeking Ray McElray for questioning. I think it should go without saying that you should stay on your guard.”
“And yet you’re saying it anyway,” Gabriel muttered. I snorted, surprised that Gabriel was actually sassing the one person who seemed to intimidate him.
Clearly, I was a bad influence on him. Or maybe Jamie was a bad influence on him.
Ophelia pointedly ignored his insolence. “Don’t go wandering around your property willy-nilly. Use caution while you’re at your shop. We’ll continue to have Council representatives discreetly drop by there and here. And please, please, do not try to track Mr. McElray down yourselves. You’ve proven how well you handle these confrontations on your own. We don’t want a repeat of the Missy situation or the Jeanine debacle.”
“I handled them fine,” I mumbled.
“What was that?” she asked.
I shook my head, smiling blithely.
“You know, I’ve had vampires doing random checks of the woods surrounding your property off and on for days, and they haven’t turned up so much as a suspicious scent. Frankly, they’re getting a little bored. You’re not very interesting to watch, you know. They’d heard all these wonderfully scandalous stories about you, and you’re hardly living up to the hype.”
“I suppose I have you to thank for telling those scandalous stories,” I muttered. Ophelia had the good grace to cover her snicker with a cough.
“Have you given any more thought to who might have shot at you?” she asked.
I snorted. “No, it’s not like I’ve devoted every waking thought to it since the night it happened. I mean, what’s a debilitating poisoning between friends?”
Gabriel opened his mouth, but my wayward childe chose this moment to jog back from the kitchen, his torn T-shirt slung over his shoulder.
“You ready to be beaten on some more, old man?” he asked. Jamie’s skin still held the faintest flush of his predeath tan, and the muscles he’d gained from years of baseball rippled as he moved. He shot Gabriel one of his million-watt grins, the white of his teeth somehow making the green of his eyes stand out even further. He noticed the sweet-looking teenager standing to my left and ratcheted up the power of his smile.
For her part, Ophelia was staring openly at my childe, barely restraining the drool that threatened to drip down her chin. My motherly instincts found this to be somewhat offensive, considering that I was standing three feet away, but I bit my tongue and stored it away for future blackmail material.
“Does he always walk around without his shirt like that?” she asked, the last syllable cracking slightly. Behind her, Gabriel choked on a chortle.
“No,” I said pointedly. “Jamie knows better. In fact, after introducing himself politely, he will be going right upstairs and changing into something that covers his manscaping.”
“I’m Jamie,” he said, reaching out to shake Ophelia’s hand. “Nice to meet you. And I don’t manscape. But Gabriel does.”
Gabriel punched Jamie’s shoulder, and Jamie smacked him back. He gave Ophelia a good-natured wink, and I cringed a little. Jamie had no idea how ancient Ophelia was or her position of authority. In Jamie’s mind, Ophelia was fifteen, two years younger than he was, and not quite a dating candidate. He was giving her the polite sort of charm he’d probably bestow on a friend’s cute younger sister, friendly but nothing too promising. Ophelia seemed to be caught in some sort of force field. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t look away from Jamie’s goofy, sunny face.
I cleared my throat. “Jamie. Shirt?”
Jamie chuckled. “Right, sorry.”
He took the stairs two at a time, with Ophelia’s eyes glued to his back. I waved my hand in front of her face, and she seemed to shake out of her stupor. Her eyes focused on my smirking face, and she fell right back into business mode.
“We’ll take care of this, Jane,” she said, leveling me with those ancient eyes. “This is what we do, protecting the safety and interests of our vampire constituents. You were wise to bring this to our attention. Now, continue that line of rational thinking, and let us handle it. It will save me so much paperwork.”
I sighed. “I promise.”
“You promise what?” she asked. “I need specifics.”
“I promise not to put myself in a situation I have to be rescued from,” I grumbled as Jamie trotted back down the stairs wearing a wifebeater that showed off his arms. It was the dude equivalent of a low-cut halter top and booty shorts. My childe was a hussy.
“Good girl,” she said, patting my head. “Gabriel, it was lovely as always. Jane, stay out of trouble. Jamie, it was a pleasure.” She smiled demurely at him and gave a little wave as she sauntered out of the foyer.
“She seems cool,” Jamie said, peering out the front window to watch Ophelia climb into her car. “How old is she?”
I found my right pointer finger raised and hovering two inches in front of Jamie’s nose. “Jamie, no.”
“What?” Jamie demanded. “She seems like a nice girl. You said that if I date, it has to be another vampire.”
“Not that vampire,” I insisted. “And she’s not a nice girl. Nice girls don’t threaten innocent librarians with dismemberment on a regular basis.”
Jamie’s face was puzzled, but he was still eyeing the door as if he was considering chasing Ophelia down the driveway and asking for her cell-phone number. Honestly, where was his loyalty? Clearly, constantly belittling and threatening one’s sire was nothing compared with the overwhelming influence of male hormones.
“She’s four hundred years old!” I blurted out.
Jamie did a bit of a double take. “Really?”
“Yes. That doesn’t make her a cougar, that makes her a saber-toothed tiger.”
Jamie grinned. “That’s kind of hot.”
“You’re going to ask her out just to spite me, aren’t you?”
“Maybe.”
“Why couldn’t you have been a girl?” I groaned.