Coffin Fit (The Grateful Undead series Book 4) (5 page)

Marcus had authority in his words as he mentally pushed
My brother is more distraught than I have ever seen him. A major event since we have been immortal for over one thousand years. Ask my suggested question before he sends his rogue hunters to round all of you up and toss you into the sunroom at BAMVC!

"What's the mission Betty was talking about?" I blurted. "And who are you leaving to run BAMVC? I want to know who we take orders from."
I better not hear a snicker, fang-boy, or I'll be driving my mother to Miami with some major attitude of my own.

I felt Marcus's sigh inside my head.
You will not make it in time. The jet leaves in thirty minutes. But I am willing to discuss ways to soothe your anger while I am in the air. Will it help if I go over, explicitly, what you, your body, and your-

"Screw Betty's mission!" Mom said.

I snickered.
How about you go it alone? I've got a migraine. Its name is Mother.

"I'm going to Italy!" Mom shouted and sprang loose. She grabbed the laptop before I could and lifted it over her head. It was the fifth laptop that year. I kept telling my mother to toss pots and pans—we didn't use them, anyway—and reprogramming a laptop was a pain in the ass.

We all froze except JoAnn. "Don't you dare throw that! I just washed the screen and used the canned air to blow the keys free of dust!"

Dorius's voice wafted down from above our heads. "Dennis will be in charge in Miami. Jeni and JoAnn will be doing ground communications with individual teams in the field."

Dorius paused. I looked up. His brows were holding each other over the bridge of his nose as he asked, "Was that wolf head always mounted by the fireplace?"

Mom lowered the screen until it was directly in front of her face. "Yeah, but I'm gonna trade it out with the head of a prick."

"Figuratively or literally?" Dorius asked.

"Both," Mom said.

Dorius smiled. "Large packs of the infected animals follow Sonny—our trip to New Orleans confirmed that—therefore, use him as bait to create masses. You have all witnessed what looks like alphas in individual groups communicating orders to the masses. The fact that they form packs and follow Sonny is confirmation of this. So organize, use Resi to manipulate the leader's minds, and then train them to help hunt and kill the other immortal animals. If this does not work, mass murder will be your only option; congregate and destroy."

I thought about the day three Jehovah Witnesses came to our door. A herd of immortal animals formed a little Conga line around their car after the raccoon and squirrels tossed chirps and chatters at each other. They definitely communicated that day. The raccoon JoAnn originally bit seemed to be their leader, too.

"If we can get the individual packs under control," Dorius said, "you can cull the herds and train the most receptive. The rest must be eliminated; in this field, Chick is in charge. Paul will be communicating your progress, through Dennis, to us. Christopher and Resi will guard, train, and care for the captured alphas."

Dorius shifted his gaze and locked eyes on Christopher. "And Christopher, I want you to keep an eye on Sonny." His eyes scanned the rest of us in front of the laptop. "Are we all on the same page?"

Mom perked up and set the laptop back on the table next to Christopher. "I bet I can get my country under control first. You cocky enough to bet me?"

"I don't think that is necessary, Chi—"

"Yeah, right. You're chicken!" Mom boisterously challenged.

"Very well," Dorius agreed, eyebrows elevated. "If you take care of
your
half of your family's blunder, you get to keep your heads. I'll even throw in a 'no day in the sun' clause. I hear you are becoming completely sun sensitive."

I noticed JoAnn's reflection was washed out on the sliding glass door. It disturbed me. While I was trying to shut out Marcus's chuckles, a mental list was forming: Take down all crosses. I'd have to use the asbestos gloves Mom had bought for the hPhone before Raphael removed the 'burn you' clause when JoAnn was returned home. Buy downstairs window treatments—we only had sheers up now. Bring out the coffins. Mom had ordered us each a coffin; one of her campaigns to get me to sink my fangs into her neck when no one wanted to turn her immortal. Mom had used one from the day they arrived, undead or not. Well, we did bury Tootles—my first meal and JoAnn's treasured toy poodle—in JoAnn's coffin when she refused to use it. We'd have to dig that one back up at night or order another.

Christopher was tossing me facial expressions that suggested I pay attention.

Jeni walked briskly past us. "Getting in the shower. Paul's coming by," she sang on her way through the kitchen.

"Go get your team ready, Concetta," Dorius said. "We are leaving in twenty minutes and I've yet to—"

"Properly say goodbye to your mate." Betty had finally found her voice. She tugged at Dorius's sleeve. "I might be ready to give it up if you leave me the
Amazon
card."

"What about Gibbie, Dorius?" I was ignoring Betty and watching Jeni bounce down the stairs to the shower. I wasn't fond of her dating Paul, the resident werewolf.

"Gibbie will be at your disposal in a few days," Dorius answered. "He's still at the Faery Ring Retreat in the Everglades. But Paul, Mort, and Jake are available immediately."

"Oh, hell no! Not the dragon!" Mom shouted. "I just got the fart smell out of the furniture!"

Jake was a shifter and part of our team. He had flatulence problems, which was major if you were a dragon. We scared him and that exacerbated the issue. The farting was obnoxious, but the fire burps were lethal.

Christopher laughed gleefully. "I can't wait to see what new magic Gibbie brings back from the annual Over the Rainbow, Pixie Dust, and Elf Spells convention."

My head jerked toward my partner. He smiled at me.
First I heard of a Pixie-Elf convention. Anything I should be worried about, Marcus?
I mentally pushed as I smiled at Christopher.

Not usually, darling,
he pushed back,
but this yearly event frequently generates a series of practical jokes; mostly itch, rash, and sneezing powders, and silly spells that fade quickly. Just be on your guard for skin eruptions, stomach problems, or unusual behavior from your family members.

You've met my family, right?
I pushed, eyes scanning the motley clan in my living room.

Marcus laughed, and a picture of the entrance at BAMVC flashed behind my lids. Marcus was entering the office building. A few seconds later, my head felt lighter and I could tell my mate had shut me out. Damn, I wish I could do that!

"Anybody home?" Paul's booming voice came from the foyer.

"Ah, is that the wolf I hear?" Dorius asked. "I believe it is. Excellent! Since he has been briefed, I'll sign off. I have a plane to catch." The screen on the laptop turned a dull gray.

Paul strutted into the living room right off the cover of a bestselling paranormal romance novel. He wore tight jeans, tight black tee, shit-kicking cowboy boots, long black hair, sky blue eyes, and a wolfish smile. "Where's Jeni? I have a deep rooted desire to howl the night away with the best looking woman in this family."

I had a deep-rooted desire to rip his throat out.

~~~~

Four

~~~~

BAMVC's jet flew over the Atlantic as Dorius's fingers tickled the keyboard on the laptop in front of him. He'd angled the screen so it reflected his image, allowing him to admire himself as he worked. He wore a black shirt, black jeans, and a leather bolo around his neck with an ornate, hand-tooled, silver heart cinched under the collar.

Goatee recently trimmed, Dorius worked his lips to get different angles of the clean, tight, black line of hair decorating his lower face. As he typed a memo to the Italian Council, his teeth worked his lower lip and hardened a chiseled chin. Dark jet eyes flashed veins of red across his irises.

Dorius stretched his legs, crossed charcoal boots at the ankles, and silver tips caught the gold lighting along the walls of the main cabin.

Marcus reclined in one of the leather chairs across from Dorius; feet stretched out and decked in worn brown leather boots. A tight pair of blue jeans, a brown belt, and a long-sleeved white dress shirt that was unbuttoned at the collar showed off his physique. "Tell me again how it came about that one of JoAnn's creations made its way to Italy, Dorius."

The interior of the cabin was rich, decorated in gold and black, but all business. Computers, printers, phones, and surveillance equipment lined one side of the cabin, making it a click away from all corporate offices throughout the world. Couches and recliners upholstered in soft black leather sat on the other side with ebony tables scattered in between. The carpet was thick and rich, red like dried blood, and the cabin walls, gold with black trim. Beautiful sconces made of copper glowed on the walls every few feet.

Marcus's brother stopped examining his cuticles and reached out and brushed the laptop screen with his fingers. The document he was working on slid off the screen. A screensaver popped up with the BAMVC bat logo. It flew circles around the computer screen.

Dorius swiveled the computer chair, slapped a leather-secured ponytail off his shoulder, and locked eyes with Marcus. "Is there a personal motivation in your line of questioning? Or could it be that you just don't understand the issue in the first place?" Dorius pulled on the cuffs of his silk shirt and silver cufflinks tossed reflected light around the walls of the cabin. "Because if you are going to spend the next nine hours trying to defend your mate and her family from being the sole factors in this horrid affair, I have neither the time nor patience for the conversation we were about to embark on. Do I make myself clear?"

"Always, brother dear, always." Marcus took a sip of blood from the crystal glass, dabbed his lips with a black linen napkin, and continued. "However, amuse me, will you, Dorius? Give me just one scenario where I could fathom the possibility that an infected animal found its way across the Atlantic, to Italy, and then directly to one of the highest mountains in the Appennini range. And furthermore, precisely selected the most feared creature in Italy—and our primary enemy—to bite and infect. Because, Dorius, any other assumption would be just that. Not one member of Chick's team has visited Italy in their immortal lifetime, nor are they aware of our relationship with the alpha of the Italian wolf pack." Marcus carefully set his glass on a gold coaster resting on an ebony table beside his chair. The intricate gold trivet mounted by faceted crystal and bathed in red looked festive on the lacquered surface.

Dorius waved down one of the attendants, who, in turn nodded and then scurried toward a door at the back of the cabin. Turning to face his brother, Dorius sighed frustration.

"The point is, no matter how the creature made its way to our homeland, it originated from the blood of your mate's sister. They brought this plague down on us. The rest has generated situations exploiting that blunder." Dorius glanced at Marcus's glass of blood and licked his lips. "Unless, of course, you can give me
another
assumption
other than exploitation,
as to how my nemesis, Karl—not only a werewolf but the
blight
of my existence—has more than upped the ante by acquiring bloodletting fangs? While you are at it, please tell me why his pack has attacked the populous of Milan, which, might I add, just happens to be near the airport where we house our Jet and a few Italian colleagues?"

Both of them glared a silent settlement to agree to disagree.

As the previously summoned attendant quietly stepped out of the room at the back of the cabin and whispered, "She is ready, sir," Dorius rose without taking his eyes off his brother. "I will be supping in the aft cabin, should a need arise for you to continue to disturb me this evening."

* * *

As the sun set on the horizon on the other side of the lake, and the rest of the house was waking, I puked another cup of coffee into the sink.

"How many evenings are you gonna try that before you give up, Mom?" Resi, dressed in a pink sweatshirt and gray cutoff sweatpants, got up from the table and padded barefooted toward the front windows. Her dark auburn hair was pulled up in a big floppy knot on the top of her head, and it wobbled with her butt as she walked. She was filling out her cutoffs and reminded me of the old Resi; the daughter I had before immortality reached up and bit us in the jugular.

"Don't squash my dreams, Resi."

As I turned to heave the remainder of my stomach contents, Resi called from the living room. "Oh damn. Puke faster, Mom. You're gonna want to check out the scene in our front yard."

In between gags, I stared from misty green eyes at a luminescent reflection of myself in the window above the kitchen sink. Red curls rioted around a heart-shaped face. Marcus's
Born to be Bad,
Stewie-tee, dappled with regurgitated coffee, hung off one freckled shoulder. "Be a dear and describe it to me," I suggested.

"Well, first, there's a big-ass
Suburban
parked in the circle drive. I'm guessing Betty and Sonny are in it."

"So," I croaked and ripped three feet of paper toweling off a spindle under a cupboard near the kitchen window. I dampened half the towel under the faucet and wiped my face. Flip-flops clacking, I shuffled my way into the dining room and I made it to the picnic table. I looked over at Resi. "And?" I grunted, eyebrows pulling my eyelids up.

"Remember the Jehovah witness showdown?"

"Oh-my-God," I moaned. "I am so not ready for act two."

"Actually, it would be act three. The Jehovah's showed up in New Orleans, remember? Anyway, the infected animals are three deep surrounding the Burb. I don't think we should wait for Betty and Sonny to open the car doors. I bet the little buggers smell Sonny in the vehicle."

"He's like a friggin undead Pied Piper," I said, and then heard my mother trudging up the stairs. "Mom," I grunted as she stepped into the kitchen. "Grab my cell. I want Resi to get a video of the flocking critters for Sonny."

"Why are they sitting in the car, anyway?" my mother asked, dragging poufy leopard-spotted slippers into the dining room.

Mom tossed her chin at the gator in front of the leather couch. "Your
iPhone
is on the coffee table, right there, Suzabella. Get it yourself."

I ignored Mom's usage of my dreaded nickname because Resi scurried over to pick up my cell phone. I watched my troublemaking mother sit on the other side of the picnic table. She wore a red silk kimono cinched somewhere between a bulbous tummy and two sagging sacks of flesh. One side of her face and hair was pillow smashed, and she covered it with her hand as she placed an elbow on the oak table and cupped her jaw.

"I'm starving." Mom tossed her free hand in the air. "I went over to my usual feeding grounds last night. The first guy I approached called the cops. All I did was ask him to look into my eyes and told him he was about to have the best piece of ass in his life."

"Nanna," Resi said. "I could've gone a long time without hearing that.

Mom rolled her eyes. "The guy told the first cop on the scene he thought I came from Shady Pines, that assisted living place. What the hell? Like someone who looks as old as me could have walked that far. That's a stupid ass theory if I ever saw one."

"Heard one," I corrected.

"You know," Mom said to me. "I don't know what's worse: your sister's complete lack of brain cells or your constant necessity to try and exercise your two."

Mom hissed at me. "S
aw
one, okay?
And
, while I was looking the cop up and down, I noticed a bad cut on his left thumb. To change the subject I told him he should doctor it up with some neosperm. The bastard laughed at me. And if that wasn't frigging annoying enough, after he stopped laughing, he took my elbow and guided me into the backseat of his police vehicle very gentle like."

"Nanna," Resi said over giggles, "that's because the antiseptic ointment you were talking about is pronounced Neo-spor-in, and sperm is—"

"I know what sperm is!" Mom slapped the table. I hated when she did that. I always jumped a little. "It's the shit that cursed me with Susan, who in turn, infected me with you!"

Resi cackled.

I cringed.

Smirking, Mom's gaze popped off each one of us with a look usually reserved for my sister, daring a crassness comment. We knew better.

"Anyway," Mom said, "at the police station while we waited for Jeni and Paul to come get me, everyone laughed at everything I said. My mind-control thing wasn't working for shit. I was ready to fang all of them, but I didn't want to spend the night in the clink." Mom shook her head, one corner of her mouth tilted upward. "I think they thought I had Alzheimer's instead of vampireness."

Her eyes glazed over and she stared right through me. "So much for ridin' sexy guys 'til I walk like a bow-legged cowgirl on hot pavement."

After a second, Mom's eyes focused and she said, "I'm thinking I should do breakfast over at the bingo hall tonight. You interested?"

"Maybe," I said. I hadn't been totally tuned into the conversation since Mom said Jeni and Paul picked her up at the station. "You saw Jeni?"

"Yeah, they were headed to Paul's after they dropped me off here," Mom said and looked at the kitchen. "I'm beginning to hate the smell of coffee when I wake up."

"I know, right?" I said, not wanting to get into an argument about Jeni spending the night with a sexy wolfman. "I almost stayed under the covers for another hour, or so. You?"

"You're still not sleeping in your coffin?" Mom asked.

"Nah, I couldn't find it in the garage." The left side of my lips rose sadly. "I'm gonna look in my old butcher shop out in the barn. I put it somewhere after Marcus moved in."

"Excuse me," Resi said. "I hate to interrupt a mother-daughter moment, but a light just came on in the
Suburban
."

"So?" Mom said.

I looked longingly in the direction of my burbling coffeemaker. Damn shame I couldn't toss it in the trash. Jeni still used it.

"The critters are now six feet deep and have the
Suburban
surrounded," Resi told us.

Mom laughed. "This just might make getting up worthwhile. Keep the film rolling, Resi."

"Be nice, Nanna," Resi said, "or I won't go to bingo with you later."

Mom's eyebrows rose. "You will?"

"If you promise not to get us arrested," Resi said, eyes on the phone pointed out the window.

"Is there enough light out there?" I asked.

"Yep," Resi said. "The sensor lights in the front of the house are blaring."

"They've probably been sitting in that vehicle all day," I said. "I bet it's hotter than hell inside."

"Their own stupidity," Mom said. "I didn't tell them to stay out in the car until we woke up. Did you?" Her facial expression didn't read sympathetic. She looked elated.

"Sonny's a nice guy. He probably suggested it." I stared out the back sliding-glass doors and watched the day settling; and the moonlit a landing strip across the lake. "Betty probably bitched all day—the poor guy."

A blue heron landed on the end of our dock, ten feet away from an otter eating a fish. The heron's long spindly legs lifted slowly as it stalked toward the otter. The otter, a regular visitor this time of day, scooped up the rest of the fish in its maw and rolled into the water by the cypress knees.

"It's getting pretty dark," Resi interrupted my thoughts. "I think we should go out and scatter the critters before Betty or Sonny open the Burb's doors."

"
Va bene! Va bene
! I'll turn the damn porch light on so they know we're awake," Mom said, grunting her way into a standing position, "but that's it."

"That should stir things up," I mumbled. I was betting the vamp critters were already putting attack-strategy tactics into motion.

"THE RACCOON WITH THE SPLIT EAR IS BACK!" my sister screeched from the second floor before she pounded down the stairs and staggered to a halt in the kitchen.

JoAnn jerked open the refrigerator door and started stacking blood bags in the turned up hem of her pajama top. She had major bed head. Her dirty-blond hair, now peppered with gray streaks, was greasy and stuck out this-way-and-that, showing parts of her white scalp. She had on a pair of pink, terrycloth-slippers over white slouch socks, and they both matched the jersey jammies covered in roses and speckled with dried blood.