“Ah, welllll,” Evans said, after a long and pregnant pause, “enjoyed meeting you ladies. Have a safe drive back to Midnight.”
While he went back inside, Fiji climbed into the car in silence.
Olivia was quick to back out and drive away. “I don’t want him to look out and see us talking,” she said. “Looks too much like we were talking over him and our little visit.”
“True,” Fiji said faintly. “So he recognized you. Even,” she added with an edge to her voice, “though you’re a married woman.”
“Yeah.” Olivia gave her a delighted smile. “That was great, huh? I recognized him, too, but I don’t think he could be sure of that. He worked for my dad’s right-hand, Ellery McGuire. This Lucas Evans was pretty low down the corporate ladder, but I saw him at a company retreat.”
“It’s good you didn’t have to kill him,” Fiji said tartly.
“Thanks for getting me close to the hammers. But in a hardware store, you really can’t go wrong. It’s what they call a weapons-rich environment.”
Fiji nodded. “I did want a window box,” she said.
And they both sniggered.
“Are you really married?” Fiji said.
“Yeah,” Olivia said. “I really am.”
“To Lemuel?”
Olivia nodded. “The Rev married us.”
“Why?” Then Fiji flushed. “I’m sorry, that was just rude.”
“No, I know it seems unlikely. But if my father dies and I inherit, I wanted to be sure someone he would just hate would eventually get the money. Lemuel will outlive me by centuries.”
“And Lemuel agreed to this,” Fiji said, marveling.
“Sure. He loves me.” Olivia’s voice was rough.
“I’d say it was mutual.”
“It is,” Olivia said. “He knows I love him, and he understands the reasons I wanted to marry him. And he approved.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t been outed yet.”
Olivia shrugged. “We didn’t change anything. Didn’t see the need. We got married at midnight in Midnight! Our witnesses were two customers who happened to be in the pawnshop. The Rev registered it with the state, as he’s required to do, but the Davy paper doesn’t print marriage notices. We checked first.”
“I’m . . . flabbergasted. I hope you’re happy.”
This sounded so prim that they started laughing again.
“When did this happen?” Fiji asked.
“About six weeks ago,” Olivia said. “Before Lemuel started looking for sources of information about the damn books. And definitely before Christine made her appearance.”
“I guess that would put a cramp on any marriage,” Fiji said. “Having another vampire with super hearing and super smell right next door.”
Olivia nodded grimly. “Not that we were doing anything different since we went through the ceremony,” she said, with the air of one determined to be fair. “But now we’re not doing anything. Lemuel is weirdly straightlaced. Nudity doesn’t bother him one way or another, but any action between him and me is strictly private.”
“Then I hope she leaves soon, for both your sakes. If my guest bedroom were light-tight she could sleep in my house, but it isn’t.” She tried not to sound relieved about that, and she left a little silence to make it clear she was switching conversational gears. “We’ve strayed away from what we’re going to do about your buddy at the hardware store.”
“Now I’m certain that Teacher is being paid by my dad or his right hand to watch me. Teacher’s really been hands-off, so I guess his orders are to keep track of me in general. He doesn’t follow me when I leave town. I couldn’t miss that. The man I killed in Dallas, the one waiting to snatch me at Rachel Goldthorpe’s house? He was definitely working for Ellery McGuire. So I’m thinking Teacher is on my dad’s payroll.”
“But why would this Lucas Evans be situated so far away from Teacher? Seems like he’d be closer for convenience.”
“But then I’d be much more likely to see him,” Olivia said. “It’s only the chance of Teacher’s truck breaking down and him begging a ride from Manfred that tipped me off.”
That made sense. “So are you going to do anything about it?”
“Eventually. Now that I’ve spilled the news that I’m married, I suspect something will shake loose.” Olivia seemed pleased at the prospect.
They rode in silence for a while, each thinking her own thoughts. Fiji was worried, for her part. Olivia might “shake loose” something she couldn’t handle. If Olivia’s father was as powerful as she had said, even someone as capable as Olivia might not be able to stay on her feet if blow came to blow. Of course, Olivia’s father’s motives might be benign.
Then Fiji decided she would leave that worry to Lemuel and the future. She should be more worried about whether the planter would fit.
Luckily, it did.
21
That night, the visiting vampire, Christine, told Lemuel that in two days she would be finished translating the text of the travelogue about Texas supernatural sites.
“It is hard work translating this,” she said. She had not grown on Lemuel. Her thin face and lank black hair did not impress him, she had no charm of conversation or character to soften his opinion, and her presence prevented him from mating with his woman.
“Who do you think wrote it?” Lemuel asked.
“Arria Auclina, obviously,” Christine said, sounding positively snarky. Then she seemed to remember she was the underdog in the relationship. “She is the only Etruscan vampire I’ve heard of. She seems to have enjoyed writing this travel journal very much, and she wanted only other vampires to read it. Writing in Etruscan achieved that neatly.” Christine sounded proud of her maker’s maker.
“What point is there in writing a magical site guide for vampires in a language only three vampires can read?”
“I don’t think Arria Auclina cared,” Christine said, hardly listening. She looked exhausted.
“How can I find her? Is your maker in contact with his maker?”
“I have no idea. Dr. Quigley doesn’t share his life with me any longer. I know Arria Auclina hasn’t died the final death. I would have felt it. But that’s all I do know. Can I go out tonight? I must drink. I can’t subsist on the artificial stuff.”
Lemuel, who hardly looked at Christine in the normal way of things, realized she did look peaked.
“Tomorrow night, if you’ve finished translating the next chapter. Here are the rules,” he told her. “No one from this town. No one from Davy. Marthasville is the closest you can hunt. You can’t kill anyone or leave them in an ‘animal attack’ state.”
The visiting vampire looked rebellious. “Do you follow these rules yourself?” she asked angrily.
“When I take blood, I do,” Lemuel said. “And I know you have to be discreet in Dallas, since the massacre.” The Dallas massacre had impressed on all vampires the need to be discreet.
“I will follow your rules,” she said, with poor grace.
“If I didn’t need to work, I would take you to a good place myself,” said Lemuel. “Do you drive? You can borrow my car, if you like.”
“I’m not a good driver,” Christine admitted. “Maybe you or your friend could take me. Since you work at night.”
“We’ll make a plan,” Lemuel said.
“So after I translate this book, I’ll be free to go back to the nest?”
“Do you want to? I don’t think Joseph will pursue you if you decide to leave.”
Christine looked startled. “You would let me go?”
“After you’ve finished the translation, you are free to go wherever you want,” Lemuel said, making a sudden decision. In his opinion, he had paid more for Christine than she was worth, considering the intrusion onto his territory by the daytime servants. It would serve Josep
h right if she chose to run, and Lemuel was sure it would not make Joseph really angry, since he clearly disliked Christine and had no respect for her.
Later that night, while Christine worked down in Lemuel’s apartment, Olivia came up to visit with Lemuel. She had a lot to tell him. First of all, she reassured him that she missed him, and she made sure he missed her. When they stepped apart, Lemuel’s eyes were not cold anymore. Olivia seemed to be very satisfied with that.
Lemuel said, “The girl needs to hunt. I didn’t think about her hunger. She doesn’t look good.”
“What’s her progress?”
“She is close to finishing, but I haven’t read the newest stuff. However, I think I must let her go hunting tomorrow night. Since it has to be blood, one of us will have to take her to a bar.” Lemuel’s mouth pressed down tight with his distaste.
“I think it would be better if I watched the shop while you drove her,” Olivia said.
“I was going to suggest the same thing. I would not have been so sure, if she had not suggested you driving her. That made me suspicious.”
“I don’t know if she means me harm or not. Probably, she does. I’m on the edge of wishing her some serious harm, myself,” Olivia said. “So if you and your little buddy want to scamper off and get some grub, I’ll mind the store tomorrow night.”
Lemuel felt relieved and grateful. “You are the best woman I’ve ever met,” he said. “All the way around.”
Olivia gave him a slight smile. “Glad you think so, husband of mine,” she said.
“I like hearing you call me that more than I ever imagined I would, wife,” Lemuel said.
“Same here. Now I’m going to have a nap, down there with Miss Dark and Crazy. If you need me, ring the alarm.” She winked at him; she knew he wouldn’t. Bobo had had to use the alarm bell a couple of times, so far. Lemuel never had. He considered himself the trouble.
Lemuel watched Olivia leave with regret. She was good company, and he liked having her sit with him during the night shift. But he recognized that she needed to get some sleep. He hoped that soon their situation would get back to normal. Normal these days? Impossible to come by. Lemuel was glad he himself could not see dead people, as Joe and Chuy could. There were more new dead citizens of Midnight than there were live ones, even with the new convenience store manager. Lemuel had not yet had a chance to go to Gas N Go to meet Sylvester Ravenwing, but he’d had a full account from Olivia.
Lemuel usually enjoyed his night shift at Midnight Pawn. But now that people had started killing themselves, he caught himself checking the landscape at least ten times a night. He’d think, Is someone out there? He’d rise, go to the door, stand on the steps, look into the darkness. And every time, he saw no one: no human committing suicide.
But that night, the rats and mice began dying. Lemuel caught a tiny flicker of movement in the darkness, one so small only a vampire could have detected it. He went out into the parking lot. When he realized he was seeing a tiny mouse run toward the middle of the intersection, he took a step back out of sheer astonishment. The next moment, he was aware that he could detect many small movements, some larger than the first.
As a vampire, Lemuel had lost what little squeamishness he’d ever possessed, but he did not like vermin. Nonetheless, he stepped out into the street. He saw a few dozen creatures hurrying to the center of the road, and there, right under the stoplight, they died. After ten minutes, there was a noticeable pile of little furry bodies. A skunk arrived. Two raccoons.
How many of these will it take to equal one human death? Lemuel wondered. The creature must feed to break out. Though Lemuel did not yet know the name of what was buried under the crossroads, he knew it was dark and hungry.
Across the street, Fiji’s front door opened, and she staggered out of her house. Afraid that she was headed to the crossroads, Lemuel threw himself across the road and ran to her, seizing her by the shoulders to stop her forward progress.
Then he understood that she was grieved for all these creatures, and she was weeping. “I had to shut Mr. Snuggly in his cage,” she said. “He started to go out the cat flap, and he said he was going to die.” There were scratches all over her arms.
“He put up a fight,” Lemuel said.
“LET ME OUT!” screamed Mr. Snuggly from inside the house.
“That’s it,” Fiji said, and he understood she was crying not from sorrow, but from anger.
Lemuel got her back into her house a few minutes later, and he made her take two sleeping aids. For once, he was sorry he didn’t have the power of glamour.
Lemuel came out of Fiji’s house, shutting the door quietly behind him, and went to borrow the Rev’s wheelbarrow and shovel from the little shed in the pet cemetery behind the chapel. It was not a surprise that the Rev was waiting for him under the traffic light, and he was praying. The mound of furry bodies was up to Lemuel’s knees, but the herd of sacrifices had stopped scurrying to die.
“I don’t think it’s any secret what’s here, Lemuel,” the Rev said after his prayer was finished.
“We just have to find out how to stop it,” Lemuel said. “The book is almost translated.”
He and the Rev began their grim cleanup job.
“Did you feel the pull?” Lemuel asked. “Your animal nature?”
The Rev nodded to indicate that was a legitimate question. “I felt a tug,” he said. “The boy, a strong one. His father held him down.”
It was a long, long night. Finally, all the animals were buried and the road was cleaned up. The Rev trudged away to his house. Lemuel, grateful they had not been spotted at their corpse disposal, went back in the pawnshop to write Bobo a note, telling him that Olivia would be in charge of the shop the next night. Lemuel went downstairs feeling more tired than he could remember being, but he showered before he crawled into Olivia’s bed before dawn. He smelled of small deaths.
When Lemuel’s eyes opened at the next dark, he felt better. Apparently, he’d taken some energy from Olivia as he slept beside her. Soon they would not have to sleep together all night. He would have his own bed back. Lemuel loved being next to her, but he feared that he would drain Olivia by his proximity if that became a nightly situation. She was not in the room, or even downstairs, his senses told him. He dressed and made himself ready in a very short time.
He found himself a little excited at the prospect of escaping Midnight, even if the odious Christine would be with him when he left. The brooding atmosphere of something bad’s about to happen was getting to him, the same way it was to the humans.
Lemuel swarmed up the stairs to find Olivia already on duty. She’d been chatting with Bobo. Bobo shook Lemuel’s hand to give him a big sip of energy. Olivia leaned over to give Lemuel a long kiss on the cheek, and that, too, felt wonderful in more than one way.
“I’ll be thinking about you,” she said. “Don’t let that bitch get you down.”
Lemuel said, “That will be the day.”
Christine stuck her head in the pawnshop. “I’m ready, Lemuel,” she called. Since he was in charge of her, however temporarily, she should have addressed him as Sir or Master, but he had not insisted. Lemuel thought, That was a mistake. He walked out the side door and back to the residents’ parking area slightly ahead of Christine, whose black hair was smoothly brushed. Christine had used the washing machine and dryer the night before, and her short dress fluttered around her legs as she made a beeline to Olivia’s car. Olivia’s Civic was way more anonymous than Lemuel’s Vette, and vampires simply could not stand out if eating was on the agenda.
“I regret that I didn’t ask you earlier about your hunger,” he said as he buckled the seat belt.
“I thought it was your way of providing me with incentive to finish,” she said, in such a matter-of-fact way that Lemuel was glad all over again that he didn’t live in Joseph’s nest in Dallas. “And I suppose it wo
rked. I’ve finished translating the book.”
A jolt of relief went through Lemuel, and he said, “At last! I can find out what to do, and we’ll be safe, maybe.”
“Yes,” she said. “Maybe.” Lemuel glanced over at Christine. She seemed faintly amused. He started to ask her what she’d read about Midnight, but his dignity stopped him. He would read it for himself, by himself, and determine his own course of action.
“Where are we going?” Christine asked him. “How long till we get there?”
Lemuel said, “I think we’ll go to the parking lot of the Cartoon Saloon. By the time we get there, plenty of drunks will be coming out, and they’re easy to sip from.”
Drunks never questioned their recuperation time, either, another plus.
“After I’ve fed, if you will give me some money and take me to the nearest hotel, I’ll work out where I’ll go next,” Christine said.
She was a strange piece of work, Lemuel thought. She didn’t sound as excited—or, frankly, as grateful—as he would have expected, considering Joseph disliked her enough to send her to work for Lemuel, who had killed every vampire in his territory for over a century.
“What do you want your life to be, Christine?” he said.
“You haven’t been interested before. Why are you interested now?” She was sullen. He could only see the back of her head as she peered out the window into the dark night. It was not as dark to a vampire as it would be to a human with regular vision, but she was certainly not sightseeing.
“I have been a bad host,” he said. “I was so preoccupied by the threat to my community that I ignored your unhappiness and your hunger.”
She didn’t turn to face him. “You’re like all men,” she said. “It’s easy for you to sound generous when you’ve gotten what you want.”
Lemuel had to admit to himself that this was true. “I’m sorry that’s so,” he said. “Olivia tells me I live in another time, and there must be more truth to that than I thought.”
“Oh, it’s not your being a vampire,” Christine muttered. “Men are the same, vampire or human or demon or . . . whatever they may be.”