Speaking of Bonbon, the white furball sauntered in with a bounce to his step. “Hey, what’s for breakfast? All that cuddling last night has me hankering for something sweet. Who wants to make me pancakes with Gorgonzolina’s ass hair?”
Damien winced. “Why are you here, Bonbon?”
“Didn’t Sky tell you? We’re going with you to Miami.”
“No. You are not. You must lea—”
“Yeah, yeah,” Bonbon groaned exasperatedly. “We must leave. You’re cursed. You have a psycho killer living inside you. Blah, blah, blah. We get it, Damien. But you don’t get to dictate what we do, what sort of cursed people we hang with, or where we live.”
“This is my fucking house!”
“Language, man. My woman is here.” Gorgonzolina trotted in and sat next to Bonbon. He gave her furry brown cheek a quick lick.
Eesh… They were by no means an attractive pairing, but what did Damien know? He’d just fucked a ghost in his sleep and thoroughly enjoyed it.
“I give up.” Damien threw his hands in the air. “I cannot fight you anymore. Live here. Take over my family’s shop. Drink all my scotch. Die from my curse. Let my evil twin slit you from mouth to tail. I do not care.”
He had tried his best. They would not listen. What more could he do?
“I so need coffee.” Amelia waltzed in wearing a Winnie the Pooh nightie—no bra—her dark hair in a messy bun atop her head.
Damien turned away. “What are you doing? You cannot wear that around me.” She was far too beautiful to go around showing off her perky nipples.
“You said that sexual release helps you keep your curse in check, not that I or the others believe your curse is real, but Sky texted and says she took care of you.” Amelia went to the cupboard and grabbed a mug.
He kept his head turned, feeling his heart pounding with fear. One more look at her in a nightgown might result in her dropping dead on the kitchen floor. She looked far too similar to Sky.
“Ah, how sweet. Avoiding eye contact.” She chuckled. “See, you do care. And here I am, still kicking.”
“Play with fire all you like, woman,” he growled. “It is your life, your choice.”
“Glad we agree. By the way, I’m staying here with Miguel while you go off to Miami. Which means I can also run your shop since MF is going with your crew.”
“I do not have a crew.”
“You do now, Greystone.” Amelia slid her mug toward him. “I take it with two sugars and one cream.”
She expected him to prepare her coffee?
“Oh,” she added, “and I need the keys to one of your cars.”
“Is your driving anything like your sister’s?” He finally turned toward her, keeping his eyes glued to her face.
“Way worse.” She held out her hand and smiled.
“How are you so…all right?” Last night she’d found out her sister was dead and the creatures in fairy tales were real.
“I’m not. But I have a son, and if he sees me losing it, he’ll spend all his energy worrying about me. I can’t do that to him.”
“You are a good mother, Amelia. And you do not need to look after my store. It is closed for the time being.”
“Tell that to MF. She says someone should be there to take dress orders.”
Damien was beginning to see that this temporary situation was taking on a life of its own. Perhaps it was he who needed to leave and start over.
After we kill some assholes in Miami, tailor.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The entire flight to Miami, Damien had the urge to take a nap and visit Sky again. Their encounter had been brief—hot but brief—and now he had questions.
How had she learned to master objects in the physical world so quickly? The cell phone. His car. Him.
Yes, he had been asleep, but he was still of this world, and she’d discovered a way to interact with him.
It seemed unusual for a new ghost to have such skills.
Also suspicious was how she kept dismissing his curse. Sky loved her sister and nephew and would not want anything to happen to them, so did she know something he didn’t?
Not that he believed Sky was up to anything nefarious, but she was a ghost, which meant she had access to other ghosts. Willa, for example?
Very curious. He plucked another peanut from the tiny foil bag on his tray table and slid it into his pocket.
The sound of a fairy chewing followed. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. If he was lucky, his pocket lining would arrive intact to their destination.
“How much longer?” Bonbon snarled from his carrier beneath the seat ahead.
“Not long.”
“Did you say something?” MF asked from the seat beside him. Gorgonzolina was in the carrier at MF’s feet.
“Just responding to Bonbon,” he said.
“Think you could teach me their language? I’ve been trying to get the hang of it, but they sound like barking Chihuahuas to me.”
“Perhaps because you lost your,” he lowered his voice, “vampire energy.”
“Maybe. But I tell ya, I still don’t feel like my old self. It’s almost like,” she circled her hands in the air, “parts of me are still changed. My hearing, my eyesight, even my libido are the same. I can seriously get it on anytime of day.”
He pressed his hand over his pocket, feeling the fairy trying to wiggle out. “Pet, that was not an invitation.”
“You’re no fun! I’m going to take a poop in your pocket,” she chirped.
Damien shook his head. Thankfully, the plane’s engines were loud, so no one heard.
“Are you saying that when the blast hit, it did not return you to your full human self?” he asked MF.
“Exactly. Only parts of me reverted back. For example, I can’t heal like I used to, the sun doesn’t weaken me anymore, and, well, my diet is solid. Not liquid, if you know what I mean, But I definitely don’t have my original body.”
Interesting.
She went on, “If I had to describe it, I’d say that part of me—the vampire part,” she whispered, “didn’t go away. It was put to sleep.”
Very interesting.
“I even still have these.” MF flashed a little fang.
The way MF described it, the supernatural energy had been drained from her, but the vampire framework remained intact. This could be why Bonbon was unable to suck energy from her. Her body was depleted already? He didn’t know.
“I cannot help wondering if this trafficking situation is connected to the blast.” So many random pieces had fallen in his lap: the gods asking him for a favor, the Browns’ and Newberys’ festival, Sky haunting him when no one had done so before. The flurry of random events besieging his life could not be a coincidence.
But what was the common denominator?
He went on, “Take this festival in Miami, for example. I know they’re using it to gather up immortals, but why would any corporation be involved? How does the sex trafficking fit in? Why put on such an elaborate event only to gather up what is left of the immortal community?”
Very perplexing.
The festival would be a one-day event with three headliners. It was estimated that over one hundred thousand people would attend, along with any supernatural creatures who showed up. Point was, the festival appeared to be fairly costly and complex. All that just so someone could get off on torturing a fairy? No, it did not add up.