The Bite Before Christmas

HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS Chapter Six

I awoke to a vampire leaning over me, nothing unusual since I'd gone to sleep wrapped in one's arms. But what made this out of the ordinary was that the vampire wasn't Bones.
Ian's hand clapped over my mouth before I could snap out an indignant demand for him to leave. I grabbed his arm, intending to break it in several places, when my sleep-fuzzy vision cleared enough to note the gravity in his expression.
"Shh," he whispered.
I nodded, torn between thinking he better have a damn good reason for this stunt and being afraid that he did. Ian removed his hand and I sat up, my gaze darting around. No one else was in the room, and he had the door closed.
"What's wrong?" I asked at once.
Ian kept his voice very low. "Crispin is acting strange."
"Crispin as in Bones, or Crispin as in Wraith?" We had two of them now, and Bones had seemed fine when I last saw him.
"The only Crispin I give a shite about," Ian snapped. "Really, we don't have time for these games."
I couldn't agree more, which was why I didn't appreciate Ian sneaking into my room and gagging me just to tell me he thought Bones was acting oddly. For God's sake, his heretofore unknown brother was in town and he'd resolved to investigate that brother for possible nefarious intentions. It would get under anyone's skin.
Still, in case Ian wasn't overreacting . . . "Strange how?"
"He's inordinately cheerful, and he seems almost oblivious to anyone but Wraith. Same with everyone else. I tell you, something is going on."
If I weren't naked, I would've shoved Ian out the door right then. "I knew you were shallow, but really? Bones just found out he has a brother and he's not sure what type of man that brother is. The rest of us aren't, either. So yes, for a little while, Wraith might get more attention than you. Man up and stop acting like a brat who hates the new baby because now Mommy and Daddy don't play with him as much!"
"This isn't about my shallowness," Ian said curtly. Then he strode to the door. "When you realize that, meet me at the Hampton Inn in Asheville, unless you've been affected, too."
"You're staying there?" Part of me was relieved. Now I didn't have to deal with him through the holidays.
"Yes," was his short reply. "Someone has to find out what rock Wraith crawled out from under."
He left then, shutting the door behind him. I heaved a sigh and got out of bed. He's as shallow as a kiddie pool, I told myself, but my own niggling seeds of doubt had made me speed through showering and getting dressed. Ian was egotistical, perverted, and morally bankrupt, but he wasn't prone to overreacting about anything except involuntary abstinence. Could something be wrong with Bones?
Right, because acting jovial while trying to glean facts out of his brother couldn't be a cross-examination tactic-it clearly spells menacing omen, an inner voice mocked.
That was the most logical explanation. Still, I couldn't squelch my unease as I headed downstairs. When you've seen bodies come back from the dead as attack zombies, you pretty much realize that anything is possible. Bones's laughter rang out loud and hearty, and though the sound normally gladdened me, thanks to Ian, it almost sounded foreboding now.
Nothing's wrong, nothing's wrong, I chanted to myself as I followed the sounds into the kitchen. Ian had apparently left, but the others were gathered at the table. Wraith sat at the head, his blond hair gathered in a ponytail that somehow looked masculine, and wearing another shirt that would be in line with Renaissance festival attire.
"Cat," he said, smiling at me. "Do have a seat."
Inviting me to sit at my own table. How kind. I squelched that sarcastic response and pulled up a chair from the other room, our kitchen table merely seating six. Only after I settled in did it occur to me that Bones hadn't offered to get the chair.
Granted, I wasn't the type of girl who waited for someone to open doors or slide out chairs for me, but Bones normally got a kick out of gestures like that. Furthermore, Spade and Mencheres were chivalrous almost to a pathological fault, but they hadn't spoken up, either. It's nothing, I told myself, and pasted a false smile on my face.
"So what did I miss?"
Wraith settled back more comfortably in his chair. "I was telling everyone about the time I absconded with the Duke of Rutland's prized stallion as a lad."
Five hours later, Wraith still hadn't shut up, and aside from me and Denise, no one else seemed to want him to. I'd found exciting activities like starting the dishwasher or doing a load of laundry to avoid Wraith's droning on, but aside from that and Denise's occasional trips to the bathroom, no one else moved except to relocate from the kitchen to the family room. Denise caught my eye a few times and raised her brows as if to ask, what's the deal?
Damned if I knew. It was one thing for Bones to lull Wraith into revealing information by pretending to be interested in his background. Not his usual interrogation technique-that normally involved knives and lots of screaming-but with their probable family ties, I'd buy the gentler approach. I'd even buy that the others were onto this strategy and backing Bones's play by also pretending to be engrossed by Wraith's tales.
But it was one thing to feign attentiveness and another to look almost spellbound. Hell, details of life as an eighteenth-century aristocrat should be boring to Spade and Annette. They'd both been wealthy members of Britain's peerage, too, so Wraith wasn't telling them anything they didn't know from experience.
Right after night fell, Denise came over, her smile too stiff to be genuine. "You mind going for a walk, Cat?"
"Sure. Be back, everyone, we'll round up some firewood while we're out," I said, raising my voice though that shouldn't have been necessary.
No one even glanced up. Okay, the chair thing could've been overlooked, but three normally gallant men not commenting about two chicks gathering firewood in the dark? That was downright uncharacteristic, even if I could see at night.
Fabian gave me a helpless look, swishing around the ceiling in nervous circles. I jerked my head toward the door and he zoomed outside without further prompting. Again, no one seemed to notice. They all kept staring at Wraith like he'd hung the moon, and here he was talking about the most boring-sounding ball ever.
"Guess the honeymoon's over," Denise muttered once we were outside. "Next I suppose I'll be sleeping in the wet spot."
I walked past the stacked logs on the side of the house and kept heading into the woods. Fabian followed behind us, flitting through the trees instead of around them. No one from the house appeared to be paying attention to us, but just in case, I wanted to be far enough away that we wouldn't be overheard.
"I mean, I get that it's a huge deal that Bones's long-lost brother showed up," Denise went on. "I'm happy for him, and I'm not trying to steal Wraith's thunder. But Spade could give me a grunt every couple hours, you know?"
I kept walking at a brisk pace. With Denise's demonically-altered stamina, she was able to keep up with ease. When we were halfway down the hill, I finally spoke.
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but . . . Ian was right. Something strange is going on."
Denise stopped, her hazel eyes widening. "Ian said that? Thank God I'm not the only one thinking it!"
"Keep your voice down," I reminded her, adding, "It's got to be Wraith. Everyone is acting, well, kinda mesmerized by him, except vampires can't mesmerize other vampires."
"True. Besides, we're not affected," Denise pointed out.
"Neither is Ian."
Fabian and his girlfriend, Elisabeth, also weren't, but ghosts were normally immune to anything that affected the living or the undead. I suppose I still could have some of that same immunity in my system due to my recently absorbing a voodoo queen's powers over the other side; my unprecedented status as a vampire who fed off of and absorbed powers from undead blood had thrown a monkey wrench into things before. But if Wraith had some sort of unknown snake-charmer mojo, then Denise and Ian should also be gathered around him in rapt attention. Not wondering, like me, about what was going on.
I waved the ghost over. "Fabian, what do you think?"
"I suspect magic," he replied. "I searched Wraith's room and found a bloody symbol drawn on the floor under a rug. Why would he do that and hide it, unless he had ill intentions?"
We were in agreement about that, but I wanted to be absolutely sure we weren't overreacting before I started conspiring with Ian. Maybe Wraith was just superstitious.
"I'm going back there and pulling Bones aside. Find out right now if this is all an act or not."
Denise touched my arm. "Be careful, Cat. If Wraith has . . . I don't know, bewitched everyone, then you'll tip your hand that you're onto him."
I sighed. "Fine, I'll be subtle. After I talk to Bones, if I say that I can't find my boots, you'll know it's not an act, so you'll need to play Stepford Wives along with everyone else."
"And what will you do then?" Fabian asked.
I smiled with a touch of grimness. "I'll meet Ian in Asheville, and we'll find a way to stop Wraith."