“She’s Cincy’s master vampire,” I said as I snapped the pop open and took a slug. Bubbles burned my eyes, and I blinked at David through the tears. And a bully. I hated bullies. Four-fifths of my scars were because of them. “And I am doing something,” I added, though I had to admit that the stink spell had only been to irritate her.
“Soon as we get Zack and Nash back, I’ll talk to her again.” Worried, I leaned against the table and watched life unfurl around me. “I’m sure we can work something out. I don’t want to be Cincy’s master anything, and she does,” I said, gesturing with my can of soda. “All I want is to live here and rescue a few familiars out of trees.”
Arm over my middle, I sipped at my drink, my gaze going from the four Weres on the floor to the pixy dust in the rafters. The Turn take it, those steaks are smelling good.
David hadn’t quit grinning, as if he knew something I didn’t, and it rubbed me the wrong way. “And all I wanted was to have a witch for an alpha so I wouldn’t have the responsibility of a real pack,” he said. But then his good mood faltered and, sighing, he rested against the table, his shoulders square with mine. “I’m not sure talking to her will accomplish anything. She’s . . .”
“As crazy as a dehydrated troll?” I finished for him, thinking it totally inadequate for what I’d seen that afternoon. Scary, dangerous, unpredictable, and lethal would have also worked. “Lifting Zack and Nash from under her nose will help.” I took another sip, feeling the sugar and caffeine take hold. “She might be certifiably blood-crazy, but she’s not stupid. Once she realizes she can’t push me around, she’ll back off and leave me alone like everyone else. The city will settle down. She’s already afraid of me.” I think.
“She is?”
I turned to David, drawn by the sudden worry in his voice. “I stood up to her,” I said, and his brow furrowed in concern. “The dead don’t like anything out of their control.”
“Steaks are done!” Stef called, her bright voice echoing against the rafters to make the Weres all but howl. Two of them bolted to the back door, leaving one to help Garrett sit up.
Her arms swinging confidently, Stef went to check on Garrett. The two remaining Weres went solemn at her professional questions, but they were smiling by the time she stood and headed our way. A pixy was on her shoulder, and the tiny woman darted off when I smiled at her. She was afraid. Of me? I thought, not liking that.
“I told them to save two steaks for you,” Stef said as she halted before us, looking far more comfortable in jeans and a lightweight tee than she had in her scrubs. “Rare,” she said, pointing at David. “Medium,” she added, gaze coming to me. “Is Jenks around? There’s a clan of fairies out in the garden sitting on one of the tombstones. They want to know if they can hunt for grubs.”
“Ah, he and Edden are driving around with a finding amulet,” I said, now realizing why the pixies had come inside. “What are the pixies doing about them?”
Stef came up from the cooler, beer in hand. “So far? Watching them. It’s weird. I thought pixies and fairies hated each other.”
“They do,” I said. “But it’s not their garden to defend. It’s Jenks’s.” I hesitated, not wanting Jenks to come home to a battlefield. “Tell the fairies they can wait in my room.”
“Okeydokey.” Smile wide, Stef headed for the makeshift back door, clearly startled when that female pixy dropped down to her. There was a wooden sword in her hand, and I winced, hoping I wasn’t too late.
“Nicely handled,” David said, and I gave him a sour, askance look.
“And tell them to stay out of my stuff!” I shouted after Stef, getting a raised hand in acknowledgment.
“Hungry?” David draped a heavy arm over my shoulders and angled me to the back door. “I’ll give you some pointers on handling mixed-species arguments over dinner.”
“I’d rather talk about how we’re going to free Zack and Nash,” I said, my steps slowing when I realized my phone was ringing. I dug it out of my pocket, coming to a halt when I saw it was Trent. “Ah, you mind?” I asked, and David smiled knowingly.
“Take your time. I’ll save you half my potato.”
I nodded, phone still ringing as I looked around. My room was going to be full of fairies. The backyard was noisy with vampires and music. The sanctuary was turning into a Were retreat, and I didn’t want to sit in my car. That left the belfry, and I hustled to the foyer, juggling my drink as I hit the accept key.
“Trent,” I said, trying to cover the phone so he couldn’t hear the noise. “How are you?”
“Tired.” His voice came thin through the speaker, and I eased into the even darker, cramped stairway and headed up. “You think jet lag is hard when you sleep every sixteen hours, it’s murder when you sleep every twelve. Where are you? Sounds like a party.”
“Church,” I said shortly as I came into the belfry and shut the door but for a crack. It was brighter in the belfry, but not by much. The sun was down, and I didn’t turn on the light, not wanting to advertise where I was. The music from the backyard echoed up into the small room, and I quickly shut three of the overlooking windows.
“And you’re having a party?” he asked quizzically.
“No-o-o.” I hesitated, failure a tight twinge. I didn’t want to tell him about Garrett, either. It made me uneasy, the way he’d sacrificed himself for me, not even knowing why. “Constance is evicting people and I’ve, ah, got a couple of refugees. I’d find somewhere else for them, but they’re making me dinner, so . . .”
He chuckled, and I sat on a box, grateful he was who he was, and that he knew I was who I was. “Hey, I’m glad you called,” I said as I set my drink down and dusted the toe of my boot. “I met Constance. At the I.S.” I hesitated, trying to put into words the horrors that she was responsible for. And they thought they loved her.
“And?” he prompted.
I stood, going to look out a street-side window to make sure the Volvo vamps weren’t there. “She’s not going to be easy to live with. Not only is she certifiable, but she’s controlling them by fear.” The image of Joni rose up, red lipstick smeared into an ugly, clown smile, and I stifled a shudder. The long undead saw people only as a way to fulfill their needs, but they were usually better at disguising it so as to convince their followers that they loved them and maintain a constant source of blood. Constance, though, seemed to have made a bizarre, unhealthy jump of thought, her narcissism twining with her need to feed on someone whose identity had been stripped away and supplanted with her own.
“Vampires controlling their camarilla by fear? That’s nothing new,” he said, yawning.