6
A word about romantic relationships between sires and their children. That word is “complicated.”
—Siring for the Stupid:
A Beginner’s Guide to Raising Newborn Vampires
For the record, exorcisms are not as easy to perform as you would think.
For one thing, when you cast a spirit out of the house, you have to be very careful to name a specific spirit, or you could bar other ghosts, namely Mr. Wainwright and Aunt Jettie, from ever coming near the property again. And second, if you do the rite with enough conviction, you can cast those spirits into the next plane whether they’re ready to move on or not. So, in other words, if I messed with forces I didn’t understand, I could accidentally send my most cherished relative to that big University of Kentucky basketball game in the sky.
Researching the various ways to evict my lifeless freeloader gave me something to think about, besides the gigantic pile of wedding-planning books Mama had left on my front porch that afternoon.
The Vegas route was looking better and better.
I already knew a little bit about ghosts, thanks to my experiences with Mr. Wainwright and Aunt Jettie. For instance, spirits are not confined to specific places. They can wander as far as their energy can take them. Aunt Jettie had always had the energy of a hyperactive kindergartner at naptime, so it was no wonder that it took her six days after the passing of her sister to touch down finally at River Oaks. Since Grandma Ruthie’s spectral presence had been popping up all over the house and generally making a nuisance of herself, I wasted no time in breaking the bad news to her.
Aunt Jettie responded by cackling. “Oh, sweetie, I know!” she crowed. “That’s where I’ve been the last few days. All of Ruthie’s exes got together as soon as they heard, and they’ve been throwing a party like you wouldn’t believe down at the cemetery.”
“Nice,” I muttered as Mr. Wainwright shared a commiserating glance with me and shook his head at my dead aunt’s doing the cha-cha around the parlor. Gabriel and Jamie appeared in the doorway. Gabriel chuckled at Jettie’s antics, but Jamie, who didn’t quite understand why there were transparent people in the living room, rolled his eyes and went to the kitchen for a bottled blood.
Aunt Jettie stopped two-stepping long enough to smirk at me. “There are a quite a few men around this town who have been waiting for this day for a while now, Jane.”
“So, if you knew Grandma Ruthie was here, why did you stay away for so long?” I demanded.
Aunt Jettie’s misty form stopped in its tracks. I would say that her face went pale, but ghosts pretty much corner the market in pale. I guess spirits turn sort of bluish-gray when they’re shocked to the point of vomiting ectoplasm. “That’s not funny, Jane.”
“Oh, I’m not laughing. Grandma Ruthie has decided that she’s going to haunt me out of the house.”
“Oh, hell, no. Ruthie!” Jettie yelled. “You get your skinny ass down here!”
I waited, but Ruthie didn’t respond.
“Ruth Ann Early, I’m calling you! Don’t pretend you don’t hear me!”
“Can she just ignore her?” I asked Mr. Wainwright, who nodded sagely.
“Absolutely. We don’t have to answer one another,” Mr. Wainwright said. “Though certain humans with necromantic or medium abilities can call upon the dead and compel them to answer, spirits do not have any authority over one another.”
“Though it’s pretty damn rude for someone who claims to be such a paragon of good manners!” Jettie yelled, glaring at the ceiling.
The windows and the china-cabinet doors began swinging back and forth. A clay handprint I’d made Jettie in third grade tumbled from a shelf and shattered. Gabriel crossed the room, prepared to protect me from flying objets d’art. Jamie came rushing back into the living room.
“The fridge door came open and smacked me in the face,” he said indignantly. The purpling bruise on his forehead was already receding, but I could tell that Jamie was more afraid than hurt.
“Does it seem odd that she’s advancing so quickly?” Gabriel asked. “At this point, most spirits haven’t accepted their passing yet. Doesn’t it take weeks to build up this kind of kinetic energy?”
“Well, she always did succeed by being a pain in the ass while she was alive. Why not now?” Jettie called out.
There was an increased burst of activity. The curtains flapped like linen flames leaping from the windows. The cabinet door slammed against the wall so hard that the glass shattered. Figurines danced on the trembling shelves. And then, suddenly, nothing. Absolute quiet. Jamie seemed to relax instantly at my side, mirroring my movements like a nervous puppy.
“That hit a nerve,” Jettie said nastily.
“What happened?” I asked. “Why did it die out so suddenly?”
“I would say her tank ran out of gas, so to speak,” Mr. Wainwright said. “You said she appeared to you before, Jane? That she was able to speak to you for several minutes? She managed to seal a door shut? She made you uncomfortable by changing the atmosphere of the room?” When I nodded, he said, “For a new spirit, that would take a lot of energy. I would imagine she will be quiet again for a few days after this display.”
“It explains why we hadn’t heard from her again until now,” I mused. “So, she’s just lurking around in the ether, watching us and saving up her energy?”
“Essentially,” Mr. Wainwright responded while Jamie declared that it was “uber-creepy.”
“I have a few books on the subject at the shop.”
I had the urge to kiss Mr. Wainwright on top of his balding, insubstantial head. “Of course you do. Any chance she could decapitate a deer and leave the head on my front porch?” I asked. They gave me twin expressions of confusion and concern. “Probably not. Hey, can’t you just kick her out of the house?”
Jettie grinned at me. “You mean, a ghost fight?”
“It’s the opportunity you’ve been waiting for all of your life.”
“It doesn’t work like that, honeybunch,” she said, her vaporous white hand caressing my cheek like a cool breeze.
“But you touch objects around the house all the time,” I insisted. “And you and Mr. Wainwright touch each other in ways I don’t even want to think about.” Beside me, Jamie shuddered.
“Yes, but I choose to touch those objects. I choose to allow my energy to interact with Gilbert’s.”
“Hold on a second,” I said, holding up my hand. “Deleting that mental image from my memory … and done. Please continue.”
Jettie sighed at my emotional immaturity and said, “If I took a swing at Ruthie, she’d just let that punch flow through her like water. And the same goes if she tried to hit me. We’d just be swinging back and forth until the end of time. And as much fun as that might be, I don’t want to devote my afterlife to a catfight with your grandma.”
“Oh, fine,” I grumbled halfheartedly.
She crossed her scrawny arms over her chest and gave me her best impression of a stern look. “Now that the excitement is over, would you mind telling me who this handsome fellow is and what the hell you’re doing wearing an engagement ring?”
“I ask myself that, too,” Jamie muttered. I smacked him on the back of the head while Gabriel glared.
“Aunt Jettie, you remember Jamie Lanier. Jamie had a little accident a while back, and I had to turn him. He’s staying here with us until he learns the vampiric ropes,” I said, condensing the tale considerably. Jamie shot me a grateful glance, as if he was glad not to have to live the whole tragic mess again. He gave Auntie Jettie a winsome, though fanged, smile. She winked right back at him.
“And the ring?” Mr. Wainwright demanded.
“Oh, we’re engaged,” Gabriel said, his tone playfully dismissive.
Aunt Jettie squealed loudly enough to make those of us with superhearing clutch at our ears. She threw herself at me, attempting a hug without concentrating, and went through me. I shuddered against the clammy “got into the shower too soon” sensation. “I’m so happy! Oh, Gabriel, honey, I told you she’d say yes eventually!”
“I just had to wear her down,” Gabriel conceded.
“Well, I’m just as pleased as I can be,” Jettie crowed, sitting down on the couch as Mr. Wainwright’s ghostly form hovered near and bussed a frosty path across my cheek. Jettie demanded all of the details of how Gabriel “wore me down.” She cooed and “awwed” appropriately over Gabriel’s choice of proposal mediums, while Jamie rolled his eyes and made little “cracking the whip” noises under his breath.
“You do realize that I’m sitting right here, yes? That I can, in fact, hear you?” Gabriel asked him.
Jamie nodded. “Yeah, pretty much.”
Gabriel growled. “Look, you—”
“Guys, not right now, all right?” I sighed. “I can only handle so much family dysfunction in one evening. Grandparent hauntings trump irritable male vampire posturing, hands down.”
“I think Jane could use some air. Dealing with Ruthie always did take the wind out of her sails. Why don’t you two go for a nice little walk, while we get to know Jamie? We’ll pop over if there’s any trouble.”
Jamie seemed distinctly uncomfortable at being left alone with two dead strangers. “Um …”
“Sweetheart, I hate to break it to you, but you’re the closest thing I’m going to get to a great-grandchild,” Aunt Jettie said as Jamie awkwardly settled next to her. “You’d better get used to me. Besides, I can give you all of the dirt on your dear sire. Humiliations galore.”
Jamie rubbed his hands together in gleeful anticipation.
“Oh, yeah, well, when we get back, we can talk about my dented eyebrow,” I retorted as Gabriel pulled me from the room. Jamie blanched. “That’s right, Mama reminded me of the water-gun incident. Vengeance will be mine, Lanier!”
Gabriel dragged me out the front door, toward a path through the woods to the old cow pond. The words “cow pond” may not evoke images of the world’s most romantic spot. But with the night birds chirping and the stars winking softly overhead, it was a pretty pleasant place. Gabriel demanded all of the details of the water-gun incident. He was simultaneously entertained and indignant on my behalf.
“Your childe should have more respect for you, Jane, even more so if he damaged your head in his human life,” he chided.
“I think we can agree that my head was bound for damage, with or without Jamie’s help,” I retorted.
“You know what I mean. Your guilt has kept you from being strict with Jamie. You’re trying too hard to be his friend, not his guide through his perilous first year as a vampire.”
“Have you been reading Jolene’s parenting magazines again?”
“Yes, and that doesn’t mean that what I’m saying is untrue. You need to keep a firmer hand with Jamie.”
“Oh, like you kept with me?” I snorted.
“That was different,” he insisted.
“How?”
“Well, my interest in you was romantic. I didn’t want to push you away, though, in the end, I guess I did that anyway. If anything, you should learn from my mistakes as a sire, not repeat them.”
“Look, I know it’s been different since Jamie moved in. I know it’s an adjustment. We just have to make the best of it. Sure, Jamie can be an annoying, hormonal, self-centered, stubborn, lazy, sarcastic …”
“Where are you going with this?”
I frowned. “I’m not entirely sure. I know that deep down, he’s a nice person, but he does the most ridiculous, thoughtless, boneheaded crap. He pulls this whole ‘Oh, you can’t be mad at me because I’m winsome and adorable’ thing. Sometimes I honestly think I’m going to kill him. It’s just so freaking dysfunctional. He wants me to take care of him, but he resents my treating him like a child. He’s scared of growing up, but he clearly doesn’t want me taking care of him. I’m having a really hard time finding the line to walk here. And the last thing I need is you chiming in, telling me that the little progress I’ve made isn’t healthy. Can we just not talk about this right now? Can we enjoy the fact that we’re together, out of the house? I miss being alone with you, having you all to myself.”
Gabriel looked the slightest bit ashamed and pressed a kiss at the corner of my mouth. “You miss being able to have sex in the living room.”
“During which I am alone with you,” I said.
He chuckled. “Think of this as a premarital cooling-off period. We’ve been living together for a while. Having Jamie around keeps us from taking each other for granted.”
I stopped in my tracks. Cooling-off period? What were we? That sounded like something you did for frenzied gun-shop customers or couples mired in divorce mediation. It did not sound like the foundation for lifelong marital bliss. I tugged at the hem of my shirt and kicked off my shoes. “Oh, screw this, now we have to have sex.”
“What, here?” he asked, motioning to the grassy, leaf-strewn ground, which, I had to admit, didn’t look like the ideal spot for a tryst.
I pushed his shirt over his head and yanked at his belt. “Yes! I have had it with teenagers and unstable dead family members. We deserve a little time to ourselves. Naked.”
Gabriel cleared his throat as I started shimmying out of my jeans. “But isn’t it a bit … exposed?”
“Yes, which means that we probably have a maximum of ten minutes before someone figures out that we’re actually trying to enjoy ourselves, so they must put an immediate stop to it … so drop your pants,” I commanded. His eyebrows bobbed. “Sorry, I know this isn’t very romantic.”
He bit his bottom lip, the upper quirking into a dirty little grin. “Actually, it’s working for me.”
I barely had time to get out a laugh before he had both tails of my shirt in his hands. There was pressure at my shoulders and the sound of fabric rending. I looked down to see him holding the scraps of my shirt in his hands. He smirked and shrugged. “If you get to be bossy and demanding, I get to be bossy and demanding, too.”
I hooked my foot around his ankle and shoved him back, straddling him as he landed. He threaded his hand up my side, plucking at the nipple before stroking my collarbone. He gasped as I ground down in little circles. He moaned and bucked up under me, sending me sprawling to the ground. He slid over my back, pressing kisses along my spine as he raised me to my knees. He knelt behind me, tugging my panties down.
His hand skimmed around my hip, pulling me back against him. He ground into my ass, cupping his fingers around my pulsing warmth.
He nipped and bit at my neck. I vaguely registered the sound of a zipper lowering. He guided his head between my folds and surged up as his fangs sank in to my neck. I cried out at the sudden sensation of fullness, of being stretched and molded to him as he thrust inside me. I sat back, balancing against his thighs as his hands roamed my stomach, my breasts, settling over my throat as he pulled the blood there. I pulled his wrist across my mouth, caressing it against my cheek before sinking my fangs into his skin.
Love. Full. Love. Love. Love. Mate. Happy.
This was pretty typical of Gabriel’s thought stream during sex. The irony was that this was the only time I was privy to those thoughts, so my only window into my erudite mate’s soul was when he was reduced to a horny, happy, monosyllabic mess.
He pushed my shoulders forward until my palms rested on the dirt. He wound my hair around his fist, tilting his head to the side so he could continue to feed. The other hand snaked between my thighs to stroke and tease.
My whole being seemed to tense up as he timed his hand, his fangs, and his thrusts in tandem. When one sensation struck, the next was on its heels. I was unbearably full, the coil of winding pleasure tensing inside me until I cried out.
He withdrew his fangs, licking at the wounds gently, before sinking them in again. I arched up, screaming. He shuddered against me, his fingers threading through my hair to drag me closer as he released. I sank to the earth with a sigh, his weight settling pleasantly on top of me. Breathing deeply, I pressed my cheek to the cool ground, enjoying the tickling sensation of the blades of grass against my skin. I closed my eyes, winding Gabriel’s arm around me as I listened to the cicadas chirp and the mosquitoes drone. I could have very easily, and happily, fallen asleep right there. But there was an unaccompanied teenager in my house … and leaf bits sticking where leaf bits just didn’t belong. I smiled, bussed Gabriel on the cheek, and stretched my arms over my head in a languid “holding on to the last moments of peace we’ll have in who knows how long” gesture.
“You know, I have to say, for our first ‘outdoor adventure,’ I think we performed admirably.” I sighed.
“This isn’t our first outdoor adventure,” he said, trailing his fingertips across my collarbone.
“I think I’d remember the leaf-bit issue if we’d done this before,” I countered.
“We’ve had sex outside before, behind your shop,” he reminded me. “It was a semi-enclosed area, but I think it should still count.”
“Hmm. That does count. You’re right.”
“I usually am when it comes to reminiscing about sexual encounters with you,” he said, smirking. “Because I remember every. Single. One.” He punctuated each word with a biting kiss across my throat.
“Really?” I drawled.
“Vividly. It’s hard to forget a woman who manages to seduce you while spouting odd literary trivia and anatomically specific threats.”
“Still think having Jamie around is going to force a ‘cooling-off period’?” I asked him smugly as I wrestled my way back into my bra.
He helpfully adjusted the strap over my shoulder and snapped the clasp for me. “Yes. Or it could drive an insurmountable wedge between us, so that we end up heaving the bric-a-brac at each other—uff.” He chuckled as I elbowed him in the chest.
“That was one time!” I laughed as he slid his arms around me and kissed my hair. I shrugged him off, grinning cheekily as I plucked grass and leaf bits from his hair. “And it wasn’t bric-a-brac. It was a book … Wait, are we referring to our first fight or our last fight?”
“It’s sad that you have to ask,” he said, swiping at the mud on my cheek.
“You throw one little paperback at a guy, and he gets all sensitive.”
He retorted, “It was the Lord of the Rings trilogy! In hardcover!”
Somewhere in the distance, I heard a ping.
“What the?” I turned toward the noise, only to have Gabriel wrap his arms around me and throw me to the ground. I heard his breath explode from his lungs as if he’d been punched in the back. I felt an odd sharp object poking me in the chest. I looked down, unable to comprehend the red flower blossoming on Gabriel’s chest.
There was an arrowhead poking through Gabriel’s shirt.