Coffin Fit (The Grateful Undead series Book 4) (28 page)

"Okay, doggies," Zaire said, "Settle down. Crap, you guys are always on a testosterone high."

The men glared at her.

Zaire showed them her palms. "Jeni locked herself in a safe room at the house. You don't need balls to think fast."

Zaire ignored their rumbling chests and turned to me. "The safety ward you put on the door worked—glows like a bastard, burns like a bitch." Zaire glanced at her fingers. "Evidently the demon tried to get in, gave up and took JoAnn instead."

"When we left the house," Resi said, "Jeni was heading for a shower. She told us you guys had everything under control here. And after the big brouhaha there, she just wanted to get some sleep."

"What big brouhaha?" Mom wanted to know. "Did Raphael break anything? Because if he made a mess in our house, I'll kick his ass to Pluto."

Zaire chuckled. "I love this family."

"The house is fine, Nanna." Resi slid her arms around Zaire.

The sky trembled with thunder, a black swirling circle expanded over us, and lightning flashed.

We heard Raphael's laughter.

My bubble floated upward. I tried to grab it, and stood face to face with the doppelganger when it broke.

Dorius could hardly control Karl. It took Marcus, Razzo, and Randy's help to keep the pack leader from getting close.

I pulled from the lay line under my feet and popped out another shield, but all it caught was Gibbie and Jake and myself.

The doppelganger darted for Antoinette. Zaire leapt in front of her.

Raphael's laugher filled what was left of the early morning darkness. "Witchy-poo." The demon was talking to me. "I have had enough family for one day. I do so wish it were you coming for this visit." The funnel dropped from the sky and plummeted through the cement below Zaire and the doppelganger. A wicked backdraft knocked the rest of us backward as it sucked Zaire and the doppelganger into darkness. "My daughter has abjured her mother and me. So I take back what belongs to me. JoAnn and I will procreate another. Maybe this time it will be a son."

"Witchy-Vamp," Raphael called to me. "Because your sister will not allow it, I will not be sending Karl's nemesis back to prey on your family. However, you will never see Zaire again if you do not leave JoAnn and me alone. I will call on you when I am ready to draw up a contract and send the vampire home to her mate."

Resi ran for the hole in the pavement. I broke into a run—the shield falling around me. "No! Resi, stop!"

"Zaire!" Resi cried as the road closed around Raphael's fading laughter.

Karl howled. "The damn demon didn't commit to the doppelganger's death!" Razzo and Randy had let go of him. And Karl paced over the pavement where the black hole had been.

Paul put his arms around Resi. "We'll get her back."

I stared at Marcus.

Lily said, "I will be negotiating the contract, Aunty Susan. My first priority will be the doppelganger's death. If Father does not comply, Christopher and I will speak with Lord Rahovart, Tormentor of the Affluent and Companion of Satan. I swear to you on my life, Father
will not
hold the release of that creature over your heads."

"Can she do this?" Karl asked.

"Damn right we can," Christopher said. "Lily's father isn't aware of our allegiance with Satan's companion."

"Nor is he aware Satan is quite upset with the way Father handled the divorce settlement," Lily added.

Karl bowed. "Thank you, Lily." He turned to Dorius. "Can you keep me abreast of this situation?"

"Absolutely," Dorius said.

"What about your mother?" Christopher asked Lily.

"And Zaire," Resi sobbed.

"Zaire's release will be a top priority." Dorius stared at Lily, his jaw tight, eyes stern.

"She will be back tomorrow, Uncle Dorius. This I promise." The demon turned to Karl and his men. "But the doppelganger may take more time if we have to consult with Satan's companion."

Sirens sounded in the distance. The sun popped over the building.

Mom sighed. "Little girl, you better keep your promises."

"I will, Grandmother."

Karl turned to Dorius. "I want to discuss your plan of action here in the US with the infected animals. I intend to put the same plan into effect in Italy. I think we can work together to appease the council."

Dorius handed Karl three coins. "After I see to it that Antoinette is safely home in Italy with Camillo, I can meet you and your men at BAMVC Miami. We could go over this in more detail before you leave if you wish?"

"Yes," Karl said, taking the coins. "We'll meet you there."

"I'll contact Dennis right now to assure you are received well."

Karl nodded as Dorius pulled out his cell phone.

Razzo and Randy followed Karl into the storm drain.

"Marcus, Dennis is preparing rooms for the wolves. I'll stop to pick up my mate on the way," Dorius said, pocketing his cell. "I'll give you and the others forty-eight hours to contact me. We will discuss the critter control mission, and Lily's negations, at that time."

He smiled at Lily and Christopher. "Welcome to the team, Lily. You, with the help of your mate, make a valuable addition."

Bouncing a token in his right palm, he was gone.

I looked into Marcus's eyes. "This has been one hell of a week. And while I really enjoyed playing with ghosts, doppelgangers, wolves, a wendigo, and a fun night in Purgatory, I'm ready to play with you."

"I missed our bed," Marcus said.

"Chick got you guys a doublewide," Christopher said.

Jake farted a three-foot flame.

Gibbie laughed.

Lily chuckled.

"Easy dragon," Paul said. "I just put your last fire out inside the warehouse."

A smile spread across Marcus's lips. "It's good to be home."

"Another night, another fight," Mom said. "Let's go home. We have a wedding to plan."

~~~~

From the author

~~~~

I've always been weird, even as a child. Might've been influenced by all those fairies and trolls living in and around the streams behind Grandma's house. Today I live with my husband and three King Charles Spaniels on 50 acres of woods, fields, and streams in upper Michigan.

One's real life is so often the life that one does not lead.

Oscar Wilde

~~~

~~~~

Connect with me online:

https://twitter.com/Suesan0814

https://www.facebook.com/GratefulUndead

http://www.thegratefulundead.weebly.com/

http://thegratefulundead.blogspot.com/

http://pinterest.com/stecsusan/

WHAT OTHERS ARE SAYING ABOUT THE GRATEFUL UNDEAD:

They're So Vein is a hilarious and irreverent new twist on the paranormal/vampire romance genre ~~~Barnes and Noble Overview

A fresh take on the oft-bitten vampire milieu~~~Jeni Decker, author, I Wish I Were Engulfed in Flames

A unique take on all things paranormal. It's refreshing to see an author take on what is now a very popular genre and make it her own~~~Jeanne Bannon, author, Invisible

Susan Stec's GRATEFUL UNDEAD series is a rip-snorting satire on all things vampiric and paranormal~~~Carlyle Clark, author, The Black Song Inside

Irreverent and hilarious. It is most assuredly NOT your teenaged daughter's vampire story~~~ Linda Ulleseit, author,
Flying horse books
, and
Under the Almond Tree
.

WITCHY

Skylar is a good witch, a city girl full of spunk and poor relationship choices. Bek, her last guy, put her into a cat and dumped her two hundred miles from home. Well, in Bek's defense, she did torch his vintage Mustang. Still...

Revenge is on her mind—definitely not a man—and along comes Luke, rugged, all muscles, tanned skin, with a bowl of warm milk, and totally country.

Chapter one

Damn Bek to hell! If he gets within clawing distance, I'll make him remember me every time he looks in a mirror—which is way too often. I should've known better than to start a relationship with a guy I had to fight for the blow dryer.

I slink out from under a shiny new
Suburban
and check out my reflection on the automobile's side door. Lowering to my haunches and curling my tail around my rump, I turn my maw to the side; what a regal pose and exquisite feline profile.

I have never been exquisite, and the bitch inside this furball body is anything but regal. Shit, I need a cigarette.

Who in the name of Hades wants to be encumbered by a form that tantalizes curiosity, yet impedes the ability to use my powers and magic? Bek is going to hear my trills and hisses of rage the minute I get close enough to his tight, sexy ass.

I watch the fur on my stomach rise and fall with a sigh.

So I have a wicked temper. So I throw things when I get pissed. He didn't have to go all sorcerer on me, turn me into a black cat, and then dump me two-hundred miles from my home to make a point.

Yeah, I know, I went on and on and on and on. Why? Because the sex was to die for. I still want him. I really do. But I also need to spread my wings, soar like an eagle. Being in a cage is a nightmare; caging me is a death sentence. Put me in a cage and I'm suicidal. And Bek wants to cage me. I need freedom! Well, he gave it to me, all right. I'm a cat on the streets in a podunk town somewhere in BFE.

I stealthily crawl under one side of a rusty
Ford
pickup and exit on the other. A few feet away a bird pecks at a dried French fry. I suppose if I really were a cat, stalking, giving chase would invigorate me. I plop down and stretch out.

I need a cigarette.

Languishing on the sun-warm pavement in between a pristine
Jeep Wrangler
and the beat up Ford, I try to keep my tension level down. What a damn mess this is. Thoughts of lust and vengeance are hypnotically crippling. I slap my tail against concrete with an overwhelming desire to bite something.

I hear her coming; smell her long before she approaches.

"Well, aren't you a beauty." The stout brunette towers over me and blocks my patch of sun.

One eye slightly open, I watch her bend at the waist.
Walmart
bags hanging from her wrists threaten to boldly joggle my senses. I don't move. I don't have to. I'm a damn cat. If I were a Raven, I'd have cawed in annoyance and taken flight long before she arrived. Instead, I indignantly ignore her presence.

The woman gives the fur behind my ear a scratch. I can't resist leaning into her Lee Press-On nails.

"A
Walmart
parking lot is not a good place for a precious little kitty to be stranded."

I barely register the prattler, and only my predicament makes me begrudgingly tolerant of the length of time she's taking to move out of the frigging sun. Not being in a playful mood, I choose not to loosen her bowels by verbally telling her to get lost before I turn her into a toad. I can't do the toad thing at the moment, anyway.

Sizing up the chick, I decadently wallow in my state of depression. She's dressed in
Wranglers
, a sleeveless, bright yellow tit hugger, and well-worn cowboy boots. Yee-ha!

Okay, so now I am a sarcastic bitch. I want my human body back and the full capacity to use the witchy skills I was born with so I can turn Bek into a toad—the bastard. Maybe this is finally a woman who will help. If I could strum my fingers on the asphalt, I would. Claws don't work that way.

"You don't have a collar, puss," she says.

Did she say collar? I press my ears back and softly coo a warning. If this woman thinks I'm going to wear a collar, she's in for some shit. That should be fun. A soft purr rises in my throat.

The woman's breasts heave as she stands and surveys the area around us. "I can't see any open car windows close by, either, so I don't think you escaped and are waiting for your master to come back."

Master, I mentally harrumph. I am my own master.

She looks down. I blink unenergetically and go for a single eyebrow raise. I have jet fur and gold eyes. I'm sure the expression is stunning. Even for a cat.

"Will you bite me if I pick you up?" she asks, tossing her plastic bags into the back seat of the Jeep.

Man, I need a cigarette.

I want to hiss and show her my feline fangs. Instead, I take in a long breath of discursion and wonder if I should entertain an annoying flicker of hope. As I look over the Jeep, I flick my tail in annoyance, snort through my cute little feline nostrils, and wonder how much mischief I can get into with this human. I'm slowly losing the high from my last attempt to find a mortal familiar.

The brunette puts both fists on what is probably her waist and looks down at me contemplating an idea I am not privy to. Inwardly I'm so terribly amused. Outwardly, I look from woman to Jeep and try to apply a longing stare at both. If I can't use my magic to get this chick to take me where I need to be, I can sure as hell kick up some feline trouble to take the edge off my morose ambivalence.

I guess my eyes give her what she needs. "Then it's settled," she says matter-of-factly. "You're coming home with me." She tucks her hands under my body and lifts.

I'll be damned if I'm gonna make it easy on her. I grow limp, drape her hands like a furry neck collar, and pray she drops me. I love a good heart-wrenching howl and an insulted hiss before and after I land flawlessly on all fours.

Maybe we'll get
her
a collar.

Fifteen minutes later, as I just barely tolerate the country twang blaring between the closed windows of the Jeep, I pray this country bumpkin is an understanding pagan instead of a God-fearing woman in her twenties.

I'll be a good little puss, bide my time, and keep my human voice quiet. I'll make this chick love me first, and then make her a believer. I need a familiar; one I can trust to protect me and help resurrect my witchy form. She may be the one.

I'm gonna have to work on her makeup, wardrobe, and choice of music, though.

Big farm houses whiz by, cows dot open fields, and long stretches of woods make me sleepy before the woman behind the wheel slows the Jeep down and flips on a turn signal.

I moan as we pull into a dirt driveway beside a lesser two-story farmhouse that needs a good coat of paint. A small section of metal fencing squares off the front yard. The grass is knee-deep behind the fence. Not my knees, hers.

No problem, I can scale that baby in two seconds. But it will be a long trip back to civilization. I'm going to turn Bek into a mole.

As we drive by the house and circle a beautiful hedge of pampas grass, a metal shed comes into view. The back of the property is not at all like the front of the house. Wild and overgrown, the area is full of wildflowers; black walnut and apple trees flutter in the distance. More country music blares from the building.

I'm a witch in a cat's body about to enter a new dimension, not only of sight and sound but of mind. Crap, I need a smoke.

The woman turns off the car and opens the driver's door before giving me a quick glance and shutting it again.

"Well, it's about damn time, Stella," a masculine voice yells from inside the building.

"Hush your hole. I found us a pet."

Holy shit, pump the brakes! A new and improved
Marlboro
man steps out of the building. He's rugged, tan, muscular, gruff, and has an ass to die for. I am in lust.

"Better not eat more than you," he says with a baritone chuckle.

"Luke!" Stella says. Luke, his name is Luke. Could this get any better? "You better hush. Mama isn't around to save your butt from a good swift kick like when you were a tadpole with dirty knees."

Sister and brother; it just got better. I scratch at the driver's window like mad.

Luke laughs as he struts over and yanks open the Jeep door. He picks me up by the scruff of my neck and lays me against a brick-hard chest. I purr like mad, front claws kneading flannel.

"Ouch," big, strong, and sexy says, holding my squirming body at arm's length and looking me up and down. "You found us a feisty puss," he tells Stella.

If you only knew.

Luke warns, "Put those claws back, missy. You be a nice kitty and I'll take you inside and give you..."

Yeah, yeah?

"...a bowl of warm milk."

Fuck me! For a minute, I forget I'm a damn cat.

Luke tucks me under his arm and heads for the building.

"Luke," Stella yells, "you are not making her... Hey, how'd you know the cat is a she?"

"I looked," Luke holds me out again as he answers. This time he faces me toward Stella.

"You're not making
her
a barn cat," Stella frowns. "And stop swinging her around. She doesn't like it."

I open my mouth. I want to scream a few obscenities, but just spit, hiss, and trill a bit.

"See," Stella said.

Luke curls me in his arm. "She'd make a good barn cat. She's a feisty one."

"You already said that."

Why do I feel like I'm in a
Stephen King
movie?

Luke stops in the middle of a wide open door and pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his flannel pocket.

My heart stops beating.

He lights up. I stretch my nose to his chin. He blows smoke circles above my head. I paw the air, and sniff like mad.

"Looky there, she loves the smoke," Luke says and blows a puff in my face. "That's a barn cat if ever I saw one."

I inhale, shiver and come damn close to an orgasm.

*

Okay, so I'm not a barn cat. I hate it out here. Things scurry around. I miss heaters, store-bought food, and the smell of hairspray, soft comforters, indoor bathrooms, lamp light, and a warm body to snuggle. I slip through a small hole in the barn wall and find my way to the back door of the house. The place is lit up like Bek's Wiccan shop store front. I rake my claws down a sliding glass door.

Nothing.

I thump my tail against the door and meow loudly.

Nothing.

I screech and scratch, throw my body against the door, trill, howl, and scratch some more.

Stella lets me in, carries me into the living room, and laughs at Luke.

"Told you so," Stella said. "She may be feisty, but the girl is a house cat."

I purr. I don't want to, but an open beer can and Luke's pack of cigs beckon me from a table next to Luke's camouflage lounge chair. I am on a mission.

I squirm out of Stella's grasp, jump down, and pounce onto the arm of Luke's chair. He ruffles the fur on my head and attempts a sip of his beer. I see a small window of opportunity and lurch for the can. It spills down his chin, chest, and under his tee shirt. I lap up as much as I can before he pulls me away, laughing so hard he starts coughing.

"We got us a wanton hussy in a cat suit," he says in between laughs. "If only I could find me a real woman like her."

I so want to use my human voice. I have to nuzzle his bristly chin to keep my maw shut.

"I hate that she likes you better." Stella pouts.

I purr and burrow deeper into the man smell of Luke.

"I thought I could take her back to
CMU
when I head back to college in fall," Stella says.

I sit up so fast, so straight and stiff, I freak them both out.
Central Michigan University
is in Lansing. Lansing is where my apartment is, my spell books, scribing mirror, candles, wand, crystals, gemstones, oils, my big comfy bed, skinny jeans, sunglasses, sexy undies, blowdryer, hairspray, and my damn cigarettes. It's also where Bek lives.