Honeymoon of the Dead (29 page)

“Who are those guys, anyway?” I asked Dominguez as the door slammed on the waiter’s face.

Dominguez looked at me as if to ask if I was kidding around. “Your kidnappers, right?”

“Um, wrong,” I said. “My kidnappers were nerds with positive political message shirts and curly hair. Kind of cute in their own gawky way, but not ruggedly handsome like that guy.”

“Are you sure?”

Well, actually, I wasn’t. “Okay, actually, I never saw my kidnappers. I had my eyes closed. But I assume they were the same guys that jumped me in the parking lot, although, honestly, other than their shirts, I didn’t really get a good look at them either.”

“So what you’re saying is that these could be the guys.”

I looked over to where William and Mátyás sat in William’s car, and sighed. “I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right.”

“Don’t give me that mumbo-jumbo. These are the guys I’ve been after,” Dominguez said matter-of-factly. “These are the people running the vampire- hunter front that are working with James Smythe. You’re not going to have any trouble from that quarter anymore.”

He sounded so convincing that I didn’t have the heart to disagree. I shrugged. “Okay.”

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. Sebastian is out on bail. He’s waiting for you.”

 

 

We met Sebastian at a Jewish deli across the street
from a Catholic women’s university.

The restaurant was at the back of the store. A husky guy took us to a seat in a narrow room. The tabletops were Formica and the chairs could have been taken from a cafe in the 1950s. On the walls were oversized pictures of someone’s family, presumably the owner’s, in various professionally done photos.

Sebastian looked a little rough around the edges—a bit too thin, with dark circles under his eyes—but his expression brightened when he saw us. Mátyás, William, and I wrapped him in a giant bear hug.

Over several cups of coffee, we caught up on everything. Turns out Sebastian’s lawyers convinced James to confess. Between that and the concealed weapon and the antistalking laws in Minnesota, he’d been extradited to the U.K.

He was a little shocked at what we’d been up to, though.

“Shot at you?” he repeated, and then he said something in Romany that made Mátyás chuckle.

I shook my finger at Sebastian. “You’re teaching me that language as soon as possible.”

“Yeah,” said William. “It would have been nice to have a heads-up before Mátyás sacrificed his immortality.”

Sebastian, who had been sharing a secret smile with Mátyás, blanched. “You what?”

Mátyás shrugged it off with a casual lift of his shoulder. “Oh, Papa, please. Living forever has been such a hassle. I’m glad to be rid of it. Now I can finally grow older—”

“And die,” Sebastian finished, grief heavy in his tone, as if he’d lost Mátyás already.

Weirdly, I don’t think any of us at the table outside of Sebastian had really considered the implications of that particular cost of Mátyás’s sacrifice. William’s eyes were wide. My hand covered my mouth in horror. Mátyás tried to act nonchalant, but the hand that held his coffee mug trembled.

“Everyone dies,” he said with a sniff. “It’s natural, Papa.”

“What’s natural is for a father to die before his son, not live on long after.”

“Oh, Sebastian,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”

But Sebastian wouldn’t be consoled. He got up and walked away from the table, leaving William and I to stare at Mátyás.

“Are you really ready to die?” William asked.

“Of course not, stupid,” Mátyás said a bit harshly. “I’m not doing it anytime soon either, so you can all stop burying me already.”

So we left it at that and talked about the weather and what their plans were now that the excitement was over until Sebastian came back from wherever it was he’d gone off to.

He gave Mátyás’s shoulder a brief squeeze before sitting down but otherwise didn’t mention it again.

William and Mátyás explained that they’d had enough adventure and were ready to head back to Madison. They offered to caravan with Sebastian and me, but Sebastian had another idea. From his coat pocket, he pulled out two airline tickets.

“Paris,” I read. “Are you sure?”

“We need a vacation from our honeymoon,” Sebastian said with a tired smile. “It was what I could get on short notice. Unless you think we’ll be haunted by Gods and Goddesses . . . ?”

I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be having double vision now that my second Goddess had gone, but I’d also embraced the fact that “normal” life for me was anything but. “We’re always going to be haunted,” I said. “So we might as well do it in style.”

 

 

Speaking of style, I was a little dismayed at Sebas
tian’s choice of replacement hotel. The place was called the Thunderbird and the entire building seemed to be decked out in what could only be called Native American-inspired, politically incorrect tackiness. There were totem poles in the reception area, for crying out loud.

“This is a little different from the Saint Paul,” I muttered quietly. While the concierge printed our receipt and key cards, we leaned our elbows on the desk.

“Kind of cool, huh?” Sebastian smiled broadly enough to show off the pointed tips of his canines. “We should have come here in the first place, don’t you think?”

“Sure,” I said somewhat wanly, not being nearly as fond of kitsch as he was. “Well, it’s only until we can get a cab in the morning for our flight to Paris.” Now that I
was
excited about.

Our room was a sight to behold. A ginormous throw rug decorated in faux Indian designs covered a large section of the floor. The light fixture was a rustic-looking wagon wheel, and over the bed hung an overly romanticized Western-style picture of a Native warrior on horseback.

“Is this place for real?” I asked as I set my suitcase on the floor near the TV.

“This is one of those it’s-so-wrong-it’s-right places,” Sebastian assured me. He flung open the window blinds to let in a view of Highway 494. We could see the airport’s Humphrey Terminal and the large stretch of Fort Snelling military cemetery’s precisely spaced white headstones.

“Great view,” I said, coming up beside him. Cars and trucks stood in bumper- to-bumper traffic. I sighed. At least it wasn’t snowing. The day had stayed cold, which meant the sky was crystal clear—not a cloud in sight. The sun shone so brightly it hurt my eyes.

“I don’t care what you think.” Sebastian sat down on the bed with a happy bounce. “This place is cool.”

“I wonder what Micah would think of it.” Micah was a sometime friend who was Dakota Indian and, as it happened, the embodiment of the Trickster God Coyote.

Sebastian lay back and tucked his arms under his head. Apparently noticing the wagon-wheel light fixture for the first time, he snorted. “Are you kidding? Who could take this seriously?”

Seeing Sebastian stretched out on the bed—the lean lines of his body outlined against taut fabric—caused Lilith to quiver along my nerves. I think I must have growled seductively, because he looked up quizzically at me.

Well, it was our honeymoon, wasn’t it?

He must have understood the look on my face, because a slow smile spread across his.

“Do you want to watch some cable?” I teased, as I lowered myself onto the bed and proceeded to crawl up the length of his body.

“Or how about some sightseeing?” A broad smile spread across his face.

I kissed his chest chastely. “Great idea. I mean, it’s worked out so well.”

“Honestly, I am a little sad we never got to the theater or that park with the giant cherry in it,” he murmured in between the soft pecks on his lips that I gave him. Reaching his arms up, he caressed my shoulders.

“Too cold,” I said, nibbling lightly on his lower lip.

“Still, the Guthrie is supposed to be pretty good,” he said, pretending disinterest.

“We can come back,” I said, deepening the kiss. “Or see something in Paris.”

“I don’t know. I think we should really go—ah!”

His suggestion was cut off by a well-placed squeeze. I straddled Sebastian and put my hands on his chest as though to hold him down. Lilith purred deep inside, combining Her strength and mine. Sebastian’s eyes widened in surprise, but his smile was wolfish.

Leaning down, I kissed his lips. He opened his mouth to mine, and I felt the sharpness of his fangs against my tongue. The sensation excited Lilith. At Her prompting, I slid my hands down Sebastian’s body until I caught his wrists. I pulled them up over his head and pinned them there with all of Lilith’s strength.

“Oh my,” Sebastian said, his body clearly responding to his enjoyment of our turnabout position. His cock strained against the fabric of his jeans and pressed into my mound. I ground against it slightly, making Sebastian struggle against his bondage. His resistance only served to arouse me.

I felt the tips of my nipples stiffen. I kissed him again, deeply, and let my body leisurely stretch across his, teasing my own sensitive breasts. Sebastian arched his back urgently. Our bodies pressed together hotly.

And we hadn’t even taken our clothes off yet.

That needed to change, fast.

Letting go of Sebastian’s wrists, I pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it aside. I allowed Lilith’s strength to tear my bra off with a snap. Sebastian’s hands instantly cupped them, his thumbs stroking the sensitive areolas. Shivers ran down my spine, deep into my core. I threw my head back and rocked against him with the rhythm of each caress. He groaned.

Taking pity on him, I lifted myself up just enough to unzip his pants and free his cock.

I gripped his shaft in my hand, and Lilith flashed him a toothy, possessive grin. Sebastian actually looked a bit nervous, if also hopeful. I don’t think he was disappointed when I took him into my mouth or with the fierceness of my . . . er, Her . . . or was it Our skill?

The disorientation I felt wasn’t the ground-swaying sort of having two Goddesses fighting over bodily possession of me, but it was more than a little disconcerting to be awake at the same time as Lilith. It had happened before, but rarely have we been quite so integrated, and, shall we say, in tune.

Lilith and I were having fun.

Quickly shimmying off him, I tossed off my pants and underwear.

But Sebastian was ready for me. Taking hold of my wrists this time, he flipped me onto my back. The bed bounced on squeaky springs as we switched positions. I felt Lilith retreat slightly, as he pressed his lips into mine hungrily. It was my turn to play.

Arching my back, I returned his probing, strong kiss. My nipples tickled against the fabric of his shirt. My legs stretched to receive him. We met each other in a pounding, heated rush. I gasped, but he held on tightly.

His head bent to nip lightly at my neck, but he only taunted me with each soft bite. He drew no blood, but his intense rhythm took my breath away.

It didn’t take long at all until I came and he followed shortly after.

“Wow,” I heard him say under his breath as I fell into a deep, satisfied sleep.

 

 

We had an easy morning filled with a complimentary
continental breakfast and a lot of sheepish grins at each other over the breakfast table. “You know,” Sebastian said finally. “We could do that again anytime . . . the three of us.”

Lilith purred deliciously at the idea, but I couldn’t help but shake my head with a little laugh. How lucky was Sebastian? He could have a ménage à trois anytime he wanted. Of course, it had been nice to have Lilith there. It felt strangely complete, like more of me had participated.

“Yeah,” I finally said into his smiling face, which was beginning to show a trace of anxiety over my slowness in responding. “We’d like that.”

In fact, Lilith was already imagining all sorts of scenarios involving Sebastian-Lilith shows of strength. My cheeks burned deep crimson even as I leaned over to whisper some of Her more tantalizing ideas into his ear.

We got so excited by the possibilities that we managed to miss the shuttle to the airport. Miraculously, an unhired yellow taxi waited just outside the door.

I was so pleased that we weren’t going to have any more airport mishaps that it wasn’t until we we’d missed the turn into the terminal that I noticed our cabbie was a troll. Not just any troll either. He was the mossy- haired bus-driving troll I’d seen earlier.

“Um, sir?” Sebastian was saying, pointing to the rapidly retreating International Terminal. “I think you missed our exit.”

“It’s a troll, Sebastian,” I explained, my voice nearly cracking with frustration. “We’re going to miss our flight. He’s probably going to eat us or whatever it is trolls do.”

The car slowed into a steep turn as we headed for the Mendota Bridge. It was a huge, ornate stone bridge that spanned the Mississippi.

“I demand a toll,” said the troll in a voice that sounded like gravel. The car continued to slow, and we veered onto the shoulder. He hit the emergency blinkers as we came to a stop in the middle of the bridge.

Sebastian was frowning and seemed to be gauging whether or not troll blood was poisonous to vampires. At least, that’s what I figured, anyway, when I saw his fangs descend.

“What do you want?” I asked.

The troll turned to face us. His skin was the color of slate, and his eyes glittered darkly, like obsidian. Large ears drooped from a deeply wrinkled face. “I want your other Goddess. Where is She?”

His eyes seemed to search my whole body, as though I might be hiding Athena in my jacket pocket.

“Um, Greece?” I had no idea where She went after She stole Mátyás’s immortality.

“Bring Her back,” the troll demanded.

I didn’t really want to.

Beside me, Sebastian’s head swiveled suddenly, like a predator tracking prey. My eyes followed his gaze and I saw three young men clambering up over the railing of the bridge. They had on matching navy hoodies, but I could see the curl of a goatee on one sharp chin.