Biting Nixie (28 page)

He roared. “You will not ignore me, Dietlinde Schmeling!” Claws raked my shoulder, tearing away the covers. “You will fear the name of Lord Ruthven!”

I sat up abruptly. “Trim the nails, Ruthven!” Huffing, I checked out my shoulder. Four thin red lines marked my skin, one oozing a little. “Oh, great. I just got some new blood, and now you've let it out.” I gave him a raised eyebrow. “Julian will not be happy about this.”

Beast Boy smiled, not nice. “Emerson will do nothing, not after I finish with him.”

“Don't you threaten Julian, you creep!” I lost it. Jumping out of bed, my hands went for his throat. I forgot I was naked.

Ruthven's eyes widened, and changed to a simmering blood-red. “Very nice.”

I stopped in my tracks. “Hands off.” I yanked my robe off the footboard of my bed. “Because if you touch me, Julian will be pissed. And so will I.” I threw the robe on and tied it tight.

“It matters not. I will get my way in the end. I always do.” Ruthven stalked closer. “The only question is, will you do as I say? Or will you
die
?”

“Threats,” I sneered.

“Promises. You will fear me, Dietlinde Schmeling. For I am Ruler of the Night. I am
Undead
.” He stretched menacing claws toward me.

“Ruler of the Night, huh? Now, that's a problem.” Jumping back, I evaded his grasp. Smiling sweetly, I continued edging back.

“It is not a problem. It is
power.
” Ruth-vain stalked after me.

“You might want to reconsider that.” Without warning I snapped open my drapes. Dawn flooded the room.

Ruthven choked on a scream. His eyes squeezed shut and he took two stumbling steps back. His arm raised in front of his face, as if he was blocking a blow. Little wisps of smoke rose from his skin. “This isn't over, Dietlinde Schmeling!” Turning, he fled from the room.

“Yeah, yeah,” I taunted, a little cocky. Vampires weren't so almighty infallible. And this Lord Ruthie guy wasn't such hot stuff.

I admit it. I was pleased with myself. After all, my showing this time was much better than the last. I didn't always need hulking great Julian Emerson to save me. Smug, I pulled out my cell phone to call him and give him the 411. And maybe to gloat a little.

The line didn't even have a chance to ring before Julian answered. “Nixie?” His voice was a little hoarse, but I'd made him yell a couple times last night. Kinda loud. “Is something wrong?”

So I boasted about what had just happened. Julian listened without interrupting, which I wasn't expecting. But his reaction at the end more than made up for it. “What the hell did you think you were doing? Ruthven is no fledgling, to be taunted without fear of repercussion!” He added, almost muttering to himself, “Why did it have to be Ruthven? Of all of them, why him?”

“Don't be so upset, Julian. You're the one who said he's more bark than bite.”

“I beg your pardon?”

He was so language-challenged. It was kinda cute, actually. “A real drama-llama. You know. Melodramatic.”

I heard some Boston-accented sputtering. Finally Julian said, “Melodramatic doesn't mean Ruthven's not dangerous!”

“But I beat him. Last I saw he was running for the hills.”

“Ruthven was running for
shade
. Which means he'll be somewhere close!” Julian added several words, vehement enough to be cussing, but no words I'd ever heard. Weirdly, they sounded a little like Latin.

“Julian…what do you mean by ‘close'?” The hair on my neck stood up, thinking of that creepy vampire somewhere…close.

“He's probably in your basement. But that's not important now.”

“Excuse me?! I think a vampire in the basement might be very important!”

“No. Happens all the time. The problem is that this time it's Ruthven, and he's been challenged by a pint-sized chew toy! Damn. I can't get there. Butler's out with the limo.”

“Wait, wait…this happens
all
the time? There are vampires in the basement and nobody knows!?” I couldn't help it, my voice went high and squeaky. It is a measure of how much the idea of vampires in the basement freaked me out that I completely ignored the chew-toy comment.

“Well, where do you expect them to be if they're in a human's house when dawn comes? Fuck. Ruthven's
there
and I'm stuck on the other side of town!”

“Stop, stop! What do you mean, inside a human's house? You mean humans invite vampires into their homes?”

“That's just an old wives' tale, Nixie. Vampires can break into homes as easily as humans. Easier.”

“Burglars, right? You mean vampires steal money? And…small electronics and stuff?”

“Some of that, yes. But mostly they steal blood.”

“Blood!”

“Of course. Surely you're not that naive? Not all vampires live in civilized households. But this is all utterly and idiotically beside the point. How fast can you get to the Strongwells?”

With vampires-in-the-basement motivation? “I'm there already.”

“You'd better be,” Julian said, and hung up.

Chapter Twenty-two

In the end, I couldn't leave without Oscar.

I rationalized it, telling myself I'd need my instruments for tonight's gig. In reality, the thought of my baby, alone in the house with a crazy vampire, scared me shitless. Besides, Ruthven was playing Toastie-Os the last I saw him. He'd have to hang out in the basement a while to heal, right? Maybe an hour or two?

I had forgotten it took Julian less than three minutes to recover.

It was more like five minutes before I was ready to go. Finally, Oscar in one hand, clarinet over my shoulder, I ran through the living room to the front door.

A black cloud rose in front of me. I screeched to a stop.

The mist resolved to Ruthven, fire-free this time. “You aren't going anywhere, blood-bitch.”

“That's what you think!” I swung Oscar's case hard. I was scared, I was desperate, and I was willing to bet all my chips that one hundred-seventy pounds of vampire couldn't withstand a full-bodied smack from a Strat case.

Lord Ruthie decided he didn't want to play Las Vegas odds. Fast—almost too fast to see—he moved behind me. Grabbed me by the neck. I turtled. Snatched at his fingers to peel them from my throat. Jerked my hands back in shock. My fingers felt like I'd shoved them down the garbage disposal.

His were crowned by inch-long claws. My blood dripped over them.

I nearly went all trembly-shocky again. Nearly did the great digestion ejection. After all, I was still pretty new to this whole vampires-are-real thing.

Then Lord Ruthass said, “You are now mine, Dietlinde Schmeling. You will become my helpless blood slave. You will do as I say. Everything I say. I look forward to your submission.”

“You
what
?”

My whole life people have been trying to make me conform.
Do this, Dietlinde. Do that. Why can't you be more like that nice Anna Versnobt?
Sometimes the whole of Meiers Corners seemed bent on jamming my round peg in their square hole.

I tried to fit in, for my parents. Failed often and miserably, but at least I tried. I tried for my friends. I even tried, sometimes, for Vice-principal Schleck.

But for Ruthven? Who'd this jerk think he was?

My stomach settled, my mind cleared. All I had to do was get out the door. I was small and human, slow compared to superhuman.

But I wasn't helpless.

Ruthven stood directly behind me. With the difference in our heights, I was in effect under him, like a set of Russian stack-dolls. Without warning I launched myself upwards.

I caught Ruthven good, the top of my skull crashing into his jaw. Even with his supernatural reflexes, he couldn't avoid getting a nasty crack. Oh, sure, it hurt me, too. Stars of pain exploded in my head. But Ruthven got the worse end of the deal. Skull trumps jaw, every time. Even vampire-hard jaw.

The surprise blow gave me only a few seconds. But with my training, that was long enough. I back-kicked Ruthven in the stomach. Feeling his gut implode and hearing a satisfying wet retch, I yanked up Oscar and tore out the door.

 

Julian was pacing the foyer of Bo's apartment building when I got there. The door was propped open despite the chill of the day—and despite the bright sunshine. Little wisps of smoke came off Julian's face and hands. I thought it was vampire reaction to the light, but he might have been just that pissed.

He saw me and was instantly there, sweeping me off my feet into a great hug. Little flames began to dance on his skin. He ignored them. “What the fuck took you so long?”

“I ran into a ‘spot of trouble'.” I was grinning like an idiot. “Let's get you inside before I have to find those asbestos gloves.”

“You're enjoying this!” He held me at arm's length and gaped at me. His eyes were red, his face plated as if he was fighting. At the same time his skin was flaming and he was gasping, as if it was hard for him to breathe.

“I'm not enjoying it.” I pulled him toward the door. “It's just nice to know you can lose your cool once in a while.” Especially when I actually was keeping mine.

“I lose my cool, as you put it, far too often around you.” We dragged each other into the foyer. I dumped my instruments while Julian doubled over, panting.

Elena came running into the foyer. “Nixie! Are you all right?”

“Dine and fandy. Everything set for tonight? Beauty pageant and all?”

“How can you worry about the festival? I heard that awful Ruthven attacked you!”

“The festival is my anti-Ruthass spray. How else am I going to make sure Ruthie never shows up again? This town ain't big enough for the both of us.” All right, maybe some of the cheerfulness was dumped adrenalin and delayed reaction. But it felt so damned good to be safe. So good to be with my friends and loved ones.

I meant Oscar. Loved ones, as in Oscar. And…my clarinet.

“Elena,” Bo's voice came from the kitchen. “Where's Julian? I just got a call—” He emerged from the kitchen and saw us all in the foyer. “What's going on?”

So I had to explain it again, including the part where Ruthven came on to me a second time, which Julian hadn't heard. When I finished, he grabbed me. “Damn it, Nixie. Until this thing is over, I'm not letting you out of my sight!”

That abruptly sobered me. “This thing” would be over Sunday night. And with it,
my
thing, with Julian. He would leave, fly back to Boston, I would never see Not-So-Stodgy Suitguy again.

“That's one of the reasons I came up,” Bo said. “I just took a call from the Watch. The Lestats are planning to disrupt the fundraiser tonight.”

Elena said, “Why am I not surprised?”

“The Watch?” I asked. “Your neighborhood watch?”

Elena put a hand on my arm. “Nixie…I'm sorry, but I fibbed about that, too. The Watch is a network of vampires who protect humans. They're sometimes called Lords of the Night. They have eyes and ears everywhere. Bo's one of them. So's Julian.”

While I tried to absorb this, I heard Julian speaking to Bo. “We'll have to put guards at every function.”

“Yes, of course,” Bo said. “I'll contact all my people immediately.”

“Do you have enough?” Julian asked.

“Wait.” I frowned at Julian. “Guards? What do you mean, guards?”

It was Bo who replied. “One of us will have to be at every event. I'm already on the beauty pageant. Thorvald can guard the families at the church.”

“One of—
us
?” I was shocked. “You mean vampires? You're placing
vampires
at the festival?”

Julian said, “Don't worry, Nixie. No one will know. We'll pass as humans.”

Bo said, “As would the Lestats, until it was too late.”

“It's the only way to identify the gang,” Elena reassured me. “Vampires can recognize other vampires even when humans can't. I guess it's a smell thing. So we'll have Thor at the church, and who else?”

Bo was ticking up fingers. “Steve can enter the Sheepshead Tournament at Nieman's.”

“That still leaves the beer tent, the VIP reception, and the Pie Delight,” Julian said. “And the bands.”

“Wait.” I was struggling to keep up. “
Steve
? As in Elena's brother-in-law? I don't mean to be insensitive but…isn't he dead?” I'd attended the funeral last year.

“Living-impaired,” Elena said. “The Sheepshead Tournament is perfect for him. He plays a mean leaster.”

“But…Steve's a vampire? I thought he died during a mugger's attack.”

“He and Gretchen were attacked, but by vampires. Bo got there in time to rescue Gretchen. They killed Steve.”

My head was spinning. “But…he's not dead? He's a vampire now? How long have you known? Does
everyone
know but me?”

Elena put a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Remember, I didn't know until a few months ago. And no one outside of Bo's household has a clue.”

“I can't believe you didn't tell me that Steve's still alive!” I thought our talk at the Caffeine Café had bared everything, or at least most everything. It had hardly scratched the surface. I saw why people go zip plus four, if coworkers were half as aggro as
friends
. “I'm gonna grill you like a Polish sausage after this festival is over. Fine. If no one knows Steve is semi-alive, how can he show up at the tournament? Won't people talk?”

“Nah. Remember, Steve had a closed coffin. We'll say he wasn't really dead. That when he revived, he'd lost his memory and wandered off. He only recovered his memory recently.”

“Stark will back us up,” Bo said. “He'll say he found Steve's coffin empty, but was too embarrassed to say anything, and simply closed the casket.”

I put a hand over my eyes but it didn't stop the kaleidoscope in my brain. “Stark…you mean Solomon Stark, of Stark and Moss Funeral Homes? Why would he do that?”