Dead Vampires Don't Date (3 page)

I squinted. No luck. It was inside-the-kettle dark.

"This will work."

I jumped two feet in the air. Morgan had moved to my other side.

"Here, I'll take that." She yanked the shovel out of my hands. I pressed them both over my heart and began whispering the words to a calming spell.

I don't know why I'd been so worried about the repercussions of a dead body on my doorstep. I was about to die from heart failure.

A loud crashing noise interrupted my spell.

I shrieked.

Morgan laughed.

"Even I can't shovel with a dead body in my arms, Kate."

She'd dropped the prince. UDBF or not, I began to give some serious thought to a more permanent death for her. Now I couldn't even remember the words to the spell. I tried a breathing technique from a yoga class. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Crap. I was just breathing.

Maybe I shouldn't have left in the middle of the first class. Then again, that stupid instructor would have caused permanent damage to my body if he'd been able to maneuver me into that position he'd wanted.

"Kate."

I screamed. Loudly. Again.

Damn it, I really hated acting the girl.

"You are about five minutes away from a major heart attack."

I
knew
that. Did she have to sound so cheery about it?

"Hold the shovel." She thrust the handle into my stomach. "I'm done digging."

She'd dug a hole big enough to fit a six-foot tall body in while I struggled to breathe in a non I-am-going-to-pass-out-any-second manner? I could practically feel all of my issues dancing on my ego.

"I'm going to remove the branch now."

Fine. I didn't care what she did, I simply wanted to get the hell out of these woods . . . warmish drops of a very wet something hit my face.

Ah. Eew.
Uh, uh, uh.

"No upchucking on the highly illegal grave."

"You could have warned me!" I wiped my sleeve over my cheek, grateful beyond belief that it was too dark to see.

"I did."

"NO."
Breathe. Just breathe.
"Saying that you are removing a branch is not a warning. BLOOD SPATTER IMMINENT is a warning."

"I'll try to remember that the next time you ask me to help you bury a body."

I shut up.

"Hand me your jacket. We'll need to bury that now too."

I removed the wet garment, turned it inside out and scrubbed my face. I gave her the piece of evidence without a word.

"Shovel again." This time I left out the extra shrieks.

Go me.

Ten seconds later Morgan said, "Just a little natural scattering of pine needles and we're done."

Ten seconds. I'm not kidding. And she said "we".

She really is my best friend.

She scattered. I pondered.

I'd given up on the breathing thing. Not
actually
breathing, mind you. Just the normal kind of . . . never mind.

Burying dead bodies late at night in the middle of the woods affects logical thought.

"That's that."

The shovel whacked me in the middle again. I clutched it gratefully.

"I'll lead the way back out."

Smart thinking on her part. My eyes had adjusted to the utter darkness of the woods, which meant I could see . . . zip.

Total. Utter. Darkness.

Morgan's cool hand gripped mine. She squeezed it. My fears regarding our friendship melted faster than an icicle in the outer realms of hell. I hate it when my fears overtake rational thought. A little tug and I followed that hand like a lost lamb.

UDBFs. What would we do without them?

We'd almost reached the car – I'd let go of her hand once I could see – when Morgan stopped and turned around. She stood totally still, eyes focused on the woods we'd just left.

"What is it?" There went my nearly calm breathing.

"I don't know. Something."

That left a really big playing field wide open, in my opinion. I pulled my keys out. We stood three feet from my car.

Hell.

"Is this "something" something we need to worry about?"

We'd just buried a body. A royal one. We could not afford witnesses. From matchmaker to potential assassin in one point two seconds. My aunt was going to kill me.

After a long – ten-years-just-passed-and-my-hair-turned-white – moment, Morgan shook her head.

"Whatever it was, it's gone now."

3. Channeling Chihuahuas
.

I waved to Morgan as I slid the key in the lock of the first floor door. She gave me a quick salute and then took off.

Into the air.

It would be nice to have a convenient means of air transportation. I always had to find my broom first.

I stood for a moment, enjoying the quiet, the cool night air, the lack of dead bodies. Unbidden, an image of the demon shot into my mind. Big body, sculpted muscles, intricate tattoo and scars that I had yet to see. I could picture his amber eyes blazing into me as if he stood three feet away. I shivered.

What did he want?

With a shake of my head, I banished him. Call it my witchy intuition, but I
knew
it was only a temporary exile. He wanted something from me. I knew it. Could feel it like a hot cauldron in my hands.

He'd just have to wait. I'd reached the end of my broom tonight.

I trudged up the steps to my second floor apartment. I tried to be very, very quiet as I turned the lock. A quiet snick. I sucked in air as I opened the door just wide enough to sneak through. I did NOT want to wake him up. It was almost six in the morning, well past his usual bedtime.

Almost there.

Closing the door, breath held tight in my chest, I turned the lock again.

Whew.

"I smell blood."

I yelled, twisted, lost my balance and fell. My butt hit the hardwood, my head the door. At least this time I hadn't jumped three feet.

My ass informed me this was not an improvement.

I should have expected it. My nerves must be more rattled than I thought. More than likely. I'm an expert at sublimating.

My overwrought nervous system wanted me to lie completely down. It sounded like the best idea of the evening so far. I slid and turned until I lay on my side, bent at a ninety-degree angle.

The firm floor reminded me that it had been a long and somewhat challenging walk and I was not in shape. I really didn't care for that reminder
.

"Yo, Doll, you reek of it."

His voice echoed in my ear. I swatted at him. I
so
did not need this right now.

"Who'd you kill and why didn't you bring me along?"

It suddenly occurred to me that I had somehow managed to surround myself with death in one shape or another - my UDBF and my
roommate
being my two most constant companions.

And now a real dead body. Well, more dead I guess.

I sincerely hoped this was not the start of a new trend in my life.

I did not need or want another complication – of any sort.

"Doll?" The deep, growly voice nudged at me.

I opened my eyes to meet his watery, dark chocolate brown ones. They bulged outward from either side of his head, as if someone had squeezed him a little too hard.

His pointy ears twitched, a sure sign of his concern. He leaned forward, licked my cheek and then the corner of my mouth.

I smelled the manicotti he'd had for dinner. My aunt spoils him shamelessly. She watched him while I'm at work.

"You hurt?" He ran up and down alongside my body, sniffing. Apparently satisfied that none of the small patches of blood that stained my pants – and probably my hair,
EW
– belonged to me, he planted his tiny body in the curve of my throat.

"You need me to take care of someone?"

I'd laugh, but he was utterly sincere.

My aunt had given me the Chihuahua as a congratulatory present a little over two years ago when I opened my agency. You'd think she would have bought me a cat. Oddly enough, I'm allergic to them.

He'd begun channeling the ghost of a New Jersey mafia hit man named Big Al approximately four months after I got him. Up till that point I had called him Choo-Choo.

.

.

I know.

There really are no words.

"The guy's already dead, Al."

"You shoulda brought me along. I got experience in these matters, Doll."

Black and tan fur covered Big Al's body. He stood approximately nine inches from floor to head. Plus another two if you count his ears. He measured fourteen inches from front end to back.

I got the impression that Big Al had been about one thousand times bigger in his past life.

"You leave any witnesses alive?"

I thought of Morgan's tense body and unnatural stillness.

"No."

"Good. You let me know if you run into trouble with this."

Again, another person who did not ask
whose
body. Yes, I know I said person, but try talking to an intelligent – albeit ruthless and lacking any semblance of a conscience – Chihuahua for a couple months. A person's perspective changes.

Or warps. Take your pick.

"I'm here for you, Doll."

Almost immediately upon the start of the whole channeling thing, Big Al had developed a rather large crush on me.

.

.

I know. I know.

I've tried reasoning with him: I'm a nice witch from Idaho, you're a hit-man from Jersey. I generally try to help people, you used to shoot them in the head.

I hadn't made a dent in his persistence.

I'm seriously thinking of pulling out the species card, but . . . Big Al has size issues. As well as fur issues.

Not that I blame him.

"Look Al, all I really want right now is a hot shower and bed." I nudged him to the side and sat up slowly.

"Want me to wash your back?"

I could not for the life of me figure out how he made his little voice go so deep and strangely seductive. When he's not channeling the ghost, Big Al utters high-pitched yips and odd growling noises that remind me of a flock of pigeons coo-ing.

I glared down at him. "I can manage."

I pushed myself off the floor, stifling a groan.

"I could wash your hair," he offered.

Logistics and reality do not exist for Big Al. I
was
beginning to blame him for that.

"Thanks, but no thanks, Al." I walked down the hall toward my bedroom.

My apartment has two - quote unquote - bedrooms. I passed the first one on my left right away. It's large enough to hold a desk and a bookshelf.

An opening to my right leads into the living area. I had the standard sofa, two chairs, coffee table and TV. The best I can say is they all fit.

The bathroom separates the two bedrooms with the door opening into the main hallway that bisects the entire apartment.

I ignored it for now as I trudged another five feet past to my bedroom. A closet, one double bed, a small chair, narrow dresser and another bookshelf competed for floor space.

The kitchen across the hall held a small eating table as well as the typical kitchen appliances and counters. I'm quite positive that the builder played a game of random darts to decide where the appliances would go.

I live in what realtors optimistically refer to as a "cozy space".

The balcony at the end of the hall, however, more than made up for everything else in my mind. Three doors led from the inside out - one in my bedroom, one in the hall and the other in the kitchen.

The covered deck ranged the entire width of my apartment. I'd splurged on two gorgeous sets of brown wicker furniture with thick fuchsia cushions and coordinating striped and floral pillows, as well as a small grill and strings of white twinkle lights. Five round pink Chinese lanterns hung down the middle of my balcony.

I loved it.

Morgan claims it's way too girly. I'm a girl so that doesn't bother me. Besides, I've watched her run her hands over my pillows when she thought I wasn't looking.

Right now, even my balcony didn't appeal.

Exhaustion crept up my legs and lodged itself in my spine. I had about twenty minutes before it launched a full-scale assault.

I shut my bedroom door on Al's face, stripped off all of the clothes I wore, put on my robe, detoured into the kitchen for a trash bag and bundled them inside. I set the bag in the hall to dispose of in the morning.

Next, I grabbed my favorite T-shirt and headed into my minuscule bath. I started to shut the bathroom door, shoved Al out of the opening with my foot and slammed it closed. I locked it too.

"A little look wouldn't hurt," he yelled.

That's just so weird.

A second later I heard the tap of his tiny claws on the floor. Turning the water to near boiling, I got in and yanked the red curtain shut.

Nirvana.

I closed my eyes, tilted my head up and let the water pelt my skin. Only once I felt certain the water would run clear, did I open my eyes and start to shampoo. I shampooed twice and conditioned once, before I used my favorite brown sugar body wash to scrub the rest of my body.

By the time I shut off the water and reached for my towel, my legs were starting to shake. I rubbed in some body lotion – brown sugar as well – and added enough leave-in conditioner to get my pick through my hair.

The nice thing about curly hair is that you don't have to blow it dry unless you want to resemble a fluffy dandelion. Going to bed with wet hair is not a problem. I have to wet my hair down every morning to try to control it. I was also entirely too worn out to even care about the discomfort of my damp locks.

I stumbled back into my bedroom, flicked back the covers and simply crashed. A moment later a tiny ball of warmth made its way into
the space between my neck and my shoulder.

Since he gave me several little licks, but didn't say anything, I figured Al had channeled his way back to wherever he went when he wasn't with me.

I had two thoughts as I pulled the covers over us.

1. I might want to start looking into life-insurance policies in the morning. And 2. Who or what had Morgan sensed in the woods with us?