Sips of Blood (19 page)

He thinks that I can't portray the sub,
does he.
She buckled a simple leather collar around her neck,
its only decoration a chrome ring meant for attaching a leash. On
her eyes she had used kohl. Her red lips bled redder than blood
onto the blotting tissue. Her cheeks were dusted a pinkish-red that
only really seemed to work on teens.

Marie couldn't decide whether she looked like
a Siren or like 'Whatever Happened to Baby Jane.' But she had tried
everything else. All that she could hope was that the harsh sun
would spend the morning behind the growing clouds.

She wore no jewelry. Marie slipped on her
Nikon aviator sunglasses and topped herself off with a
broad-brimmed Panama hat. She threw a large leather satchel over
her left shoulder, lifted her house keys from the hall table, and
left her home.

On the drive to Keith's she tried to decide
how to approach the two men. Keith didn't trust her, and Wil played
his game.

Wondering whether the two men were late
sleepers, Marie pulled into their driveway. No signs of life, but,
as she knew, that didn't prove life wasn't there.

As she climbed the steps to the porch, she
listened intently. Soft noises came from the house. At least one
person was at home.

The rap on the door received no reply. She
moved to the right and peeked into a window. Only shadows were
visible, and they weren't moving. A tap on the pane of glass drew
the angry-looking Keith to the window. He made motions indicating
that she should go away. She wouldn't.

The door opened and Wil stepped out on the
porch.

"What are you done up for?" he asked.

"I wanted to prove that I could handle both
sides." She drew a leather leash from her satchel and attached the
end to the collar around her neck. When she handed the leash to
Wil, he took it and gave it a powerful yank. Quickly Marie moved
toward him.

"You mean serious business, don't you,
lady?"

"I know what I want."

"Me? But you don't know what you're
getting."

Marie ran her tongue across her lips.

"I'm in it for the surprise." Marie
considered how unusual that statement sounded.

"Somehow I think you expect to surprise me."
He yanked her closer. "It won't be easy. Meeting my requirements,
that is."

How right you are,
she thought.

"What the hell is that?" Keith appeared at
the door.

"This is a leash, Dad."

"Give her back her leash and tell her to go
home, Wilbur."

"Aw, can't I keep her?"

"She's not properly house trained."

"But that'll be my job. I promise to feed and
chastise her if she breaks any rules. Please, Dad?"

"She's dressed like a..."

"Sub. A subordinate."

"None of that stuff will go on in my
home."

"Can I play over at her house, then?"

"No, Wilbur. Now get her the hell off the
property."

"I guess that means I can't come out and play
today."

Wil rolled the leash into a ball and shoved
it down the front of her bustier. He clapped his hands.

"Go home now, girl. Go home."

A test, she knew, but a hard one to pass.
Marie managed to nod her head and descend the steps.

"And don't you be hanging around here, girl.
I know where to find you if I yearn to play games."

Her gut clenched and a sour taste filled her
mouth, but she walked to the car and got in.

"If you're a good girl, I might bring over a
bone for you to suck on."

She had cancelled all her clients for the
day. She needed something to relieve the tension. She looked up at
the porch and saw Keith pulling his son back into the house.

You old bastard!

* * *

"I'm scared. You have to help me. He never
listens to me, but maybe you could talk your granny into leaving my
son alone."

Liliana had let Keith into her home fifteen
minutes before and still hadn't had a chance to speak.

"Wil is warped, I'd admit that. But your
grandma, no offense, is psycho."

"This is enough, Mr. Bridgewater. All you've
done is denigrate my grandmother since you got here. Your son is a
grown man and my grandmother is a mature woman. They make these
kinds of decisions for themselves."

"No, he can't. He always had very little
self-control. That's why I was always trying to save him from
disasters."

"Maybe your tendency to control his life is
what drives him into bad situations. Leave him alone. Up until now
you haven't been able to save him. Give it up. He's not a small boy
anymore."

"You don't understand. Your granny weaved a
spell around him. They're playing a game of tag, and your granny is
sure to win."

"Mr. Bridgewater, my grandmother is not a
witch. She doesn't wear silly pointed hats, she doesn't have a big
hook nose, she doesn't boil up any specialties in a pot. You tried
her food, you should know that. She doesn't even own a pet to use
as a familiar."

"You should have seen her in the hat she had
on today. It wasn't pointy; she looked more like a floozy."

"I can't believe I'm sitting here listening
to a distant neighbor recite a litany of names to call my
grandmother."

She did because she knew Mr. Bridgewater was
right. Her grandmother would win, and perhaps at an awful
price.

"I don't know what will happen to Wilbur,"
pleaded Keith.

Liliana remembered the scene in the cemetery
the night before. Not all vampires were made whole. Not only did
they lose their souls' blessed graces, but sometimes their
minds.

"You're not even listening to me."

"None of my family should be here, Mr.
Bridgewater."

"Shit, I don't care about you and your uncle.
At least you two mind your own business and don't bother anyone.
Your grandma, on the other hand, starts up trouble wherever she
is."

"Mr. Bridgewater, you took me to the cemetery
the other day to see Emmeline. Remember?"

"Sure, and I told you she is the reason why I
have to protect our son."

"Yes, but you also said that if she rose from
the grave and asked you to join her as a vampire, you would agree.
Would you really agree?"

Keith sat silently for a few moments.

"You'd really have to think about it,
wouldn't you?"

"I'd do anything to have Emmeline back and
anything to save our boy."

"Are there no boundaries?"

"When it comes to family, there shouldn't
be."

"Grandmother's my family."

"She looked tawdry and dirty this morning. An
old matron dressed like a slutty teenage prostitute. Maybe you
should think about getting help for your grandma before someone is
forced to stop her."

"Are you threatening my grandmother?"

"She threatens my son."

Keith stood. At the same moment Sade walked
into the room.

"A guest.
Ma chère,
you never told me
we had company in our parlor."

"Keith Bridgewater, sir." He even extended
his hand.

Great,
thought Liliana,
he's going
to try to enlist Uncle's help.

Sade took Keith's hand briefly. Liliana was
sure Mr. Bridgewater was not the kind with whom her uncle cared to
associate. Too peasant-like, he would say. However, if he saw a use
for the peasant, he could pretend great friendship.

"I'm here about your... mother?" Keith looked
at Liliana.

"Mother-in-law," corrected Liliana.

"Is Marie causing problems,
monsieur?"

"Yes, she's after my son. She's trying to
seduce him."

"How old is your
fils?"

"Huh?"

"Son," Liliana translated.

"Twenty-seven. Way too young for a mature
woman like her."

"You are so right,
monsieur.
She has
centuries on him."

Warily Keith looked at Sade. "I'm serious,
sir."

"I too. But what can I do?"

"If you have any influence over her, maybe
you could speak to her."

"I assure you,
monsieur,
that my
influence is limited. But I will certainly think on it, for she has
become a bit too assertive."

"She's always been assertive, Uncle."

"To family,
ma chère.
Now she is out
bothering
un étranger."

Keith immediately looked at Liliana.

"A stranger," she explained.

"Yes, exactly. Why, she came over to my house
and began chatting as if we were old friends. She forced her way
into my and my son's lives."

"Mr. Bridgewater, I don't think that's
completely accurate."

"Hush,
ma chère.
Let us not antagonize
a good neighbor and turn this thing into a petty brawl.

"We know that Marie can be difficult,
monsieur,
and will try to temper her behavior toward your
family."

"Thank you, sir. You're the salt of the
earth." Keith gently punched Sade's left arm.

Chapter 35

Marie had gone home and changed clothes.
Quickly she had washed her face, not bothering to reapply any
make-up. Now, in town, she felt lost. She needed an outlet for her
peevish anger, but she also had to practice caution.

She marched the streets looking for a victim.
Too close to home, she knew, but her driving had become too chaotic
to travel any further.

Women lunched in the old-fashioned ice-cream
parlor. Businessmen grabbed hamburgers at the local bar. But
everyone seemed to be in groups today. She needed someone alone.
Someone preferably who was a stranger.

Children balked at their mothers' reprimands.
Pets waited patiently for their masters in the hot sun.

Her gut tightened.
Wait patiently.
If
that old man hadn't been around, I wouldn't have to stalk in broad
daylight.

Soon she realized she had stopped seeing the
people passing by. Instead she squinted into her own thoughts,
blindly making her way from one end of town to the other.

Suddenly a German shepherd in a two-or
three-year-old Jeep took to barking. She turned to curse the dog
and stopped in her tracks when she saw who was causing the animal
to bark. Wil stood just beyond the Jeep, trying to get the dog to
hush up.

Could she be lucky? She had paid her dues
recently. It was owed to her. Ducking her head, Marie walked away
from Wil. She had a visit to make.

Just as Marie arrived at the Bridgewater
home, Keith pulled up in the car. He got out, leaving the motor on
and slamming the door.

"Get the hell off my property, hag."

"But I thought we were the best of friends,
dear," Marie called from the inside of her car.

Keith went up to the driver's side of her car
and smashed his fist into the back window. Web-like splinters
stretched across the pane.

Marie opened the door, ramming the metal into
the old man's stomach. Keith doubled over and stepped back.

"Keith, how rude you've become."

Keith caught his breath in a gasp.

"Damn, woman, I just want you gone."

"I've tried to be a good neighbor. Stopped by
to see how you were. Invited you and your son to dinner. Even
shamed myself in the supermarket by buying that dreadful beer
instead of spending my money on a decent bottle of wine. Introduced
you to my granddaughter. Shared special moments with you. Such as
when I had your son at my feet and pulled back his head by the
hair."

"And told him to come back 'without the old
fart'."

"You do remember. I never thought you stupid,
Keith, just absurd in your belief that you had to be the Father
Protector of your son. Especially since you've done such a poor job
so far."

"Why the hell are you here? To tantalize
me?"

"No."

"Well, my son isn't here, and I don't want
any blow job from you."

Marie struck out, dragging her long
fingernails across Keith's cheek.

"Shit!" As he spoke he sprayed saliva into
the air.

Three of her nails were clotted with his
flesh, and she turned her palm up so that he could see, then she
licked and chewed the skin free of the nails.

Keith's feet stumbled backward, encumbered by
old, heavy work boots.

"Listen, I've never hurt any woman, but you
come at me again, and I'm going to defend myself."

She watched the blood slide down his cheek.
He raised his hand to his face to feel what she was looking at. The
wounds must have burned, because she saw him wince when his fingers
came into contact with his cheek. She took a step toward him.

"I'm a lot bigger than you. What, you about
an even five feet? I've got a good head over you. I could seriously
hurt you, and I don't want to do that. Just go back to your car and
get off my property."

She shook her head and extended her right
hand. Keith tried to bat the hand away, but it was immovable.
Suddenly her nails were ripping across his throat. Again her
fingernails were clotted with his flesh.

"Want a taste?" she asked.

"What the hell are you?"

"Taste your flesh, old man." She moved in
closer.

Keith's body hit the side of his car.

"You're a real nut job."

"Taste," she whispered.

He tried to run by her, but she lunged and
grabbed the back of his head, squeezing the lower part of his skull
until she brought him to his knees.

"Have a headache, Keith? Pop any
arteries?"

Keith's face was red. His breaths came in
pants, but he tried to speak. The only sound he could make was a
mewling noise. She slammed his face against the side of his car and
bit into the back of his skull, cracking bone to reach the brain.
Her tongue darted into the folds, lapping out a small portion of
the brain. His body shivered in her arms.

"I'll not kill you, Keith. Alive, you can
watch me take your son. Your greatest fear." Marie rolled the old
man onto his back and peered into his eyes. "I can never tell how
disabled a person is. Somehow, though, I still see intelligence in
those watery eyes. Speak, Keith, speak." Marie flicked an index
finger across his lips. "Speak. Try." She lowered her ear to his
lips. Nothing but a gurgling sound. "Can you protest anymore? Can
you interfere again?" She raised her head and looked into his wide
eyes. "Scared?" She allowed his head to slide from her hands and
hit the ground.