Coffin Fit (The Grateful Undead series Book 4) (11 page)

Ah, so this was what Dorius was up to with the fairies and elves. I could actually feel the temperature drop in the room as I turned from the computer screen and up to the blade of the ceiling fan where the others were staring.

Gibbie's wings fluttered, he gripped his sword, effortlessly slid off the side of the fan blade, and landed on his feet in the middle of the table, legs spread. He tucked the blade under the red sash hanging at his waist, but his fingers remained around the hilt.

Everyone's eyes followed as Gibbie strutted—little cowboy boots clicking on the wood picnic table—until he was inches from Dorius's image on the screen. He tucked his thumbs into the red sash, elbows out.

"Don't you ever threaten me again," Gibbie said, and his hand whipped up in front of Dorius's reflection. "And if you interrupt me before I am finished stating my case, or even look like you're refusing to take my words seriously, I'll take my leave and you'll never see me again. But you
will
know I am here." Gibbie turned and took several steps away from the screen, Dorius's image at his back. The fairy's eyes were so black, they filled the sockets. I'd never seen him that angry. He turned back to the screen, and with his voice a hissed whisper, he said, "Do I make myself clear?"

Dorius didn't answer, but respectfully nodded.

I was gobsmacked—everyone's eyes were glued to the screen. No one made Dorius respond like that.

"I am fae," Gibbie said. "We live by
our
rules. I don't have to answer to you. I choose to. Remember that."

Dorius's shoulders relaxed; his arms fell to his side.

It was quieter than a graveyard at midnight. My stomach was in my throat. I swallowed hard and wondered where Marcus was and why he wasn't poking me mentally.

"I have always been there for you," Gibbie continued. "I don't always like you, but I have always respected you, and up until now, you did the same for me. Do not insult me again. Like you said to Sonny, it takes trust and control to run a team. It's time you showed us some."

Seconds went by, but they felt like minutes.

"Duly noted," Dorius said. "Are you finished?"

"No! I want a guarantee you will never employ other fae, or elves, without consulting me." Gibbie's wings buzzed; yellow sprinkles dusted the table as he flew back to his perch above us.

Dorius's gaze followed Gibbie. He did not speak until the fairy sat with his sword on his knees, hand gripping the hilt, and then glared down at the laptop screen.

"I cannot promise you that," Dorius said, "nor would I, if I could. No one tells me how to do my job. If I feel the need to consult, or temporally employ fae or elves, I will do so—your permission be damned. However, I will consider a sabbatical, without pay, should you feel you cannot fulfill your responsibilities during such an event. And one final word:
no one
will be allowed to taunt me with advancements of a sexual nature toward my mate, or anyone else's mate. It is disrespectful. I will not tolerate it with any Otherworld creature."

"Get over yourself! I'm a fairy for Puck's sake! Pranking is in my nature. And working alone is who I am. You will, at the very least, let me know your intentions before you follow through on them, should they include other fae or elves. There is no way in hell I am buddying up with an elf or some Godforsaken fae. However, if you feel the need, I can, at the very least, be an advisor as to which tribes you employ. Got it?" Gibbie's wings fluttered madly, yellow dust falling all over the place.

Dorius, brow furrowed in concentration, paused for about three swift beats of a soaring eagle's wings and then nodded.

Holy shit!

Mom sneezed.

Sonny coughed.

I brushed at my arms. The sprinkles made my skin tingle. Sonny was still coughing, and it got my attention. I forgot about my tingling arm. I couldn't believe his eyes; they looked like deep pools of water. And his hair! I wanted to touch it—so blond, so soft looking. Why had I never noticed how frigging attractive Sonny was. Why did the man never marry?

"What is this shit?" Christopher asked, rubbing his bare knees.

"Wow!" Gibbie shrilled. The battle with Dorius evidently forgotten, he seemed to be his usual self. "It works! Is your skin tingling? Do you feel lightheaded? Is anybody swooning?"

Now that he mentioned it, I did feel lightheaded. "What the hell?"

Sonny still drew my attention.

"I got me some love dust at the convention." Gibbie darted back and forth in front of each of us like a skitzo dragonfly. "And it works!"

JoAnn pranced through the kitchen and danced up to the end of the table.

Sonny was rubbing his face, but the minute he saw JoAnn, he stopped and stared with adoring eyes. I felt a twinge of jealousy. If my heart was functional, I know I would have felt it melting. Thank God JoAnn didn't notice Sonny was still staring at her.

I glared at Gibbie. "Make it stop!"

"Don't get your undies in a wad. I only sprinkled a small amount," the fairy said. "It'll let up in a second."

Christopher was laughing. "Jesus, Chick, stop looking at me like you're hungry."

"You're a cute little shit," my mother said.

Dorius shouted, "Enough! I want the fairy to fully answer my concern!"

We all stopped playing with the love dust. I don't think any of us was looking at Dorius with adoring eyes, though.

My sister put up her hand. "Hold on. All this is stupid stuff. I just finished, um, texting with Raphael," she said, as though she'd forgotten I opened the lid to
my
casket, less than ten minutes ago and caught her sexting with her ex. That was an hour ago, Hell time. My mind shuddered and quickly moved on. Raphael was probably out of bed and dressed already.

JoAnn was saying, "So y'all can just relax. Ralphie said he will lift the curse if we let Lily stay in Hell until—"

"Over my undead body!" Christopher yelled.

"Sugar, yer talkin' 'bout a demon," Betty said, and I realized how quiet she had been during the Gibbie thing. So not like Betty.

Dorius ignored my partner; his eyes were still on Gibbie. "Fairy, I know your nature is to prank. But having a mate hundreds of miles away, unable to see to her welfare, taints my management skills and pushes me to say and do things I would not normally. However, though I stand firm on leadership with whom I choose to handle rogue issues, I agree to consult with you on matters of a fae or elf nature. I would appreciate your understanding in return. Are we good?"

Holy shit
!
Holy shit!
That's all I could think. Even my mother had her mouth open. Zaire and Resi were also speechless, love dust officially forgotten.

Gibbie bowed. "We are."

Dorius nodded, and then finally gave Christopher his attention. "Does the plan you wish to discuss with me have anything to do with getting
your
mate home?"

One of Christopher's brows arched; he was biting the corner of his mouth. I could almost hear him weighing untrue options with believability. "Yes, it does," he finally answered.

I guessed Christopher took the right angle, truthfully or not, and Dorius was quick to prove me right.

"What do you propose?" Dorius asked.

"That I accept Satan's offer and receive the irrevocable passport. Then I can go get Lily."

Dorius smiled. "What about your team? If the demon is not . . . pacified, or tricked, he may turn the women to dust."

All the hope and respect I had just acquired from my mate's brother vanished. Dorius was a master at passive-aggressive maneuvers. Evidently, our boss didn't miss Christopher's demeanor throughout the call and decided to toss it right back at my partner. Once again, the vampire that looked like a six-year-old handled it smarter than I would have.

"Dorius, don't you think Lily and I had already thought of that? That's why we're going to appeal to Lord Rahovart, Tormentor of the Affluent and Companion of Satan, to rein Raphael in. Maybe drop a threat or two if he wants my cooperation. I think that after Raphael's boss sees Satan giving me a passport, and full reign over Lily, he'll think before helping Raphael with this useless endeavor. There has to be a reason Satan wants me to be able to come and go."

Everyone at the table turned to the laptop. I was smiling. I couldn't help it. Christopher may have pissed me off a lot, but he was not as stupid as I tell him he was. I waited for Dorius's reaction.

Unfortunately, JoAnn was the one to speak. I'd almost forgotten she was there. "Y'all don't have to worry about all of this. Raphael promised."

"Sh—yeah, right, like demons don't promise things in the throes of passion. Does anyone know a demon that stands behind his promises?"

"He loves me, Susan," JoAnn said. "He also said if I took him back, he'd let me bring Lily home, and even come live with me when she's here. He said he wants us to be Firebirds." JoAnn giggled and waved her hand at me. "It was so funny, because he meant snowbirds like the humans say. Y'all know what I'm talking about, here in the winter, up north in the summer. Only, for us, it will be Hell in winter, Florida in summer. I can live with that. Can't y'all?"

"I'm not living with a demon," I said.

"Two," Mom corrected. She rubbed her stomach and farted.

JoAnn looked at Christopher and then me. "Don't be silly, Susan. He's a pussycat. He's already opened the lines of communication, so anyone of y'all can call him about the curse, or anything else. But really, you don't have to, because he said he's gonna lift the curse as soon as I get there. See, I told y'all if y'all would just pray, God would take care of everything. We're gonna be one big happy family!"

Dorius cleared his throat. "Christopher," Dorius said when he had our attention. "I will give your request great thought, but in light of our present circumstances in Italy, I do not want
anyone
to make any changes, including travel, until this is resolved." He looked at my sister. "That includes you, JoAnn."

The laptop screen faded to black.

"Well, shit," I said.

"I hate when he does that," Christopher growled.

"Yeah, and that was a direct order," Mom said.

"Uh-huh. And disobeying in times of threat to our anonymity means going before the council," Paul said. He looked right at me. "Anyone here want to do that right now?"

~~~

Nine

~~~

The car was waiting when Dorius and Marcus led the immortals off the boat at Genoa.

"No, Marcus. You are the one who is not
all right
with Christopher having free rein and a passport into the abyss," Dorius said. He paused and waved the other vampires toward the black
Suburban
parked fifty yards from the boat dock.

"I'll admit, I've never been fond of my mate being Christopher's progeny," Marcus said. "But—"

"No buts, brother, especially since you have been on the boy's bandwagon for over fifty years." Dorius started moving toward the SUV at a snail's pace. It was clear he was enjoying the conversation. "For once, I agree with the boy's needs. As soon as this is under control, I will give Christopher—"

"Enough rope to hang himself?" Marcus hoisted the pack he carried over his shoulder. Walking beside Dorius, his eyes followed their dusty boots on pavement. Their location would have made normal conversation difficult for mortals, but Marcus's soft words were not whisked off with the wind-laden clamor from the active shipping port.

"You know, Marcus, maybe by giving up control, I will finally gain the respect I need to run my department. Chick's team has always worked as a whole, deceiving me shamelessly and disrespectfully. And it seems our boy has often been the ring leader. I need to make Christopher accountable for his actions; he is not as capable as he thinks. Maybe it's finally time we prove that to everyone."

"I'm not prone to prove anything that would put the others in danger," Marcus said. "We both know Christopher is predisposed to aggressively pursue
your
esteem. He's obsessed with gaining your respect." He looked up from his dust covered black boots and past the tightness in his brother's jaw. "Let's hope your attempt to make a point by relinquishing control doesn't bite you in the ass, brother. Because in Hell you have no cohorts you can rely on. And with my mate, the Stech team, and help from Lily, Christopher may not only prove
you
wrong but unleash something we are unable to contain."

"Or," Dorius said with a power driven smile, "add something to BAMVC that would prove beneficial . . . if it's under my control."

"It might be wise to ascertain what powers he has obtained since blood-mating with Lily before you attempt to control him."

* * *

Early the next evening, while all the vampires in the Stech house were sleeping, Paul was coasting to a stop at a red light in front of the
Golden Corral
in Apopka on Highway 441. "Your mother is going to challenge me."

"I'll handle it." Jeni smiled confidently.

"With a possibility of Christopher going to Hell, a team trying to round up enough infected animals to pacify Dorius, and another trying to fix one of your family's faux pas' in Milan, I'm not sure it's a good idea to push this right now." Paul's eyes latched onto hers. "You know I can't ignore your mother's challenge, right?"

"Sure you can. I do it all the time."

A beep from behind signaled the light had changed. Paul accelerated through the intersection as he said, "You're human, and an immortal's daughter. The council will not take ignorance into consideration. If your mother challenges me, I'm bound to show just cause. And until I state my intentions, which we clearly haven't discussed, they'll confine me. The team needs our help right now."

"Does my mother know all this?" Clearly appalled, Jeni's eyebrows slid beneath the bridge of her glasses.

"Probably not, but I do. I can't ignore that." Paul's hands tightened on the leather steering wheel of his silver
Corvette
.

"Who do these people think they are?" Jeni said. "I mean, how the hell can the council dictate who I'm attracted to? This is absurd! I'm forty-five years old!"

"The council is there to protect you." Paul smiled sheepishly. "Not every wolf would have your best interest in mind while they—"

"What? Fuck me? I certainly hope that's where this is headed, anyway." Jeni brazenly stared at Paul.

Paul laughed. "Yeah, that, but I was hoping for more of a commitment before we jump into the sex thing."

Jeni sarcastically peered through her lashes from behind the thick lenses of her glasses. "That's sweet, but I'm for sex first and commitment talks post-coital. There will not be another cat and mouse game like the other night."

* * *

JoAnn listened to the sounds of the family moving around below. She poured an ounce of blood into a shot glass and set it in on her dresser. Reaching into her underthings draw, JoAnn moved a pile of neatly folded, white, waist-high nylon undies to the top of her dresser. Then reached up to pull a baggie of cocaine taped to the underside of her dresser.

With a long sigh, JoAnn hung the plastic bag eye level and shook it.

"Gotta make another run, P D Q," she told the reflection of the baggie bouncing in front of her barely visible image. "If I don't stay high, I swear I'll crawl into a hole and die. Sometimes I wish I had the nerve to just stake myself!"

She sailed the baggie around in front of her and giggled. "Pretty soon I won't know what I look like if I don't get to Hell and extend Lilith's visit."  She stared at the cocaine. "Life ain't worth livin' if you gotta live it alone." She looked up in the mirror. "Nope, it sure isn't. Oh, why do I have to be Catholic? If I push a stake through my heart, it's a ticket straight to hell for an eternity." She shook her head, felt it toss her hair about, but barely registered the reflection without a clear image on the mirror.

JoAnn shook out enough white powder to fill the rest of the shot glass and mixed it with a bendy straw she pulled out of a
Walmart
bag. When it was blended, she licked the end of the straw clean. She poured the thick liquid into a long, thin, ceramic dish she'd kept jewelry in and pulled the bendy straw straight. It made a popping noise as it lengthened.  Sliding the business end of the straw across the shallow trough of blood, she snorted the concoction, sniffed several times, and coughed before tossing the straw into a trash container by the dresser.

Raggedly, she ran her fingers through her hair, then kissed the resealed and rolled-up baggie. She set it on the duct tape and then reached into the drawer and pressed the package to the underside of the dresser. She replaced the granny undies and shut the drawer, opened it twice to check the secured package, and, finally satisfied, her mind moved elsewhere.

At a speed only an immortal would catch, JoAnn picked up a damp rag and a bottle of glass cleaner. JoAnn sprayed and wiped the jewelry tray until it shined. Then used a half a roll of paper toweling to clean the only window—two big segmented sections that covered half the wall facing the front yard. Left eye twitching, she stared out at the big oaks laden with Spanish moss in the center of the circle drive under her window. The raccoon was out there. She couldn't see it, but she knew it, felt it.

Scrubbing her arms, neck, and face with used paper toweling, JoAnn scrutinized the outline of unruly and neglected shrubs surrounding the tree trunks. There were many sets of glowing orbs like those on the side of country roads at night, but these orbs were red.

"Don't mess with me!" she growled. "I'm going to be the wife of a demon again," she told the night on the other side of the windows, then turned abruptly. JoAnn zipped around the casket in the middle of the room, arms flying, eyes twitching, head jerking. "What if he doesn't want me now that I'm old and fat?"

Raphael had been asking for nude pictures during their brief sexual interludes, tainted little Internet shags, but JoAnn had refused.

"I can't think about that." JoAnn stopped circling as abruptly as she'd started and reached into the casket. Fishing around, she pulled out her stash:
Percodan
,
Vicodin
, and
Lortab
ground to a fine powder barely a finger's width in a zip-lock baggie. "I need a lot more than an eight-ball of coke and twenty tablets if I intend to lose weight and keep up with everything." She opened the bag, fished out a tiny metal spoon the size of her pinky finger, scooped some of the powder, and snorted it.

In the blink of an eye, JoAnn was standing at her dresser and writing on the blue pad. She jotted down the time and the initials PVL. In the next second, JoAnn had reached under a linen dresser scarf, picked up a double edged
Gillette
, scored her forearms forty times, and licked before the blood had had a chance to drip.

Her eyes jerked over the razor slashes already healing on her arms. She picked and scratched until they were bleeding again. "I can't cut them out! I can't scratch them away! Satan's little parasite demons keep crawling under my skin, keep coming back faster and stronger. They're everywhere!"

Pumping her fist at the ceiling, she yelled, "Satan! I rebuke you! You will not keep Raphael and me apart! I have a forgiving God.
You
are not nice. Call back your minion parasites! I won't give up. I'm on a mission to save my family from the likes of you."

JoAnn snarled, backhanded blood dripping from her nose, and wiped it on the ass of her gray jersey shorts. "I need to hit the blood and drugs harder and stronger—poison the suckers! Wonder if I can get bigger and better quantities on the streets of Orlando?"

Scratching her head with both hands, she sent blond hair flying. She yanked her rumpled t-shirt up onto her shoulder and pulled up the stained, elastic-wasted shorts that bagged on her ass. Her legs chunked out like bubble wrap from hips to knees, and spindled to skinny ankles and small bare feet. Mocha colored toenail polish was chipped—two toenails completely bare. Her brown eyes darted endlessly. She continuously sniffled and wiped her nose with her palm or t-shirt.

JoAnn grabbed the side of the casket for support. "I'm coming down already." She reached for the small baggie with ground down opiates. In seconds, she had snorted a line and wrote the time next to the letters SVC on the blue pad, a habit she repeated each time she used.

"Where there's a will, there's a way," JoAnn repeated, and whizzed around the room, cleaning again.

Still gripping the baggie, she climbed into the coffin and cozied up with her stash. She felt the tablet under her hip, propped it on her knees, and pushed a clean bendy straw into one of the blood bags lining the wall.

Typing with one hand, she took a long pull on the straw and scanned a
Google
page with several addresses for disposable syringes. After selecting a site and waiting for it to come up, she opened another tab and typed: drug busts in Lake County.

"Woo wee," she said.
"'Major bust hits Leesburg, Florida.'
No wonder it's dry in Lake County. '
Thousands of dollars of chemical marijuana, opiates, and street Meth confiscated. Ten arrested at the scene and Jailed in Tavares in connection with the Leesburg bust',
" she mumbled incoherently, eyes scanning the arrest reports and pictures. "Darn it all to hell and back, there's Jeremy, third from the left—so much for my Lake County connection."

"You guys hit pay dirt, didn't ya? Yepper sure did. I wonder how long y'all keep the evidence at the station." She balanced the blood bag on her poofy tummy, one finger scrolling a new page on the tablet.

Typing
recipe for meth
into the search engine, she said, "Might as well broaden my sunsets," and hit the go button. "Huh, wonder if Ralphie knows how to cook up meth?" Writing notes, she answered, "If not, I'll ask Resi and Zaire so I can teach him. Everyone knows if you give a little, you get a little."

Ain't no heaven for me, but a hell
, JoAnn's Earth-to-Abyss phone cranked out
Shocking Blue
lyrics. Frantically running her hand around the casket for the hPhone, she sloshed blood on the white satin lining.

I can't let you go, 'Cus I love you so, Demon Lover.
"Damn it!" she cursed. When her fingers finally found the phone, JoAnn reached for the damp rag still hanging over the coffin lid. Wiping small, fast circles over the casket lining, she thumbed the on button to her hPhone. "Hi, hon. What's up down there?"

"You sound out of breath, my little concubine," a raspy voice teased. "Have you started without me?"

* * *

Paul turned on his blinker and prepared to pull into
the RiMar Drive-in Theater
on Clarcona Ocoee Road in Orlando. The sun was setting behind
Rosemont Shopping Center
across the highway. It was chilly inside the air-conditioned automobile, but hot and humid on the other side of the dampened auto's windows. Cars whizzed by as Paul coasted to a stop and waited for an opening to turn into the entrance.

"I can't believe they reopened this place. I think this is where I was conceived." Jeni's eyebrows bounced.

Paul barked a laugh. "Really?" he asked, rolling the
Corvette
up to red ticket booth as he pulled out his wallet.