Witchling

Page 6

Delilah grinned. Sometimes I think she loved her cover job playing detective more than she loved her real job working for OIA. "Will do, Chief."
Menolly looked at me expectantly. "What should I do?"
"There are a lot of gang members and derelicts that frequent the alleys around the bar. I think you should pay them a visit later tonight and see what you can find out." I gave her a long look. She knew what I meant.
A slow smile spread across her face. "I am hungry," she said softly.
"Take only what you need to quench your thirst," I warned her. "Wipe the memory of the others. We don't want to leave a bunch of bodies around a recent murder scene, and we don't want Chase on our backs."
She nodded, laughing, and the ivory beads of her braids sounded like dancing bones. "And you? What are you going to do?"
I closed my eyes. "The only thing I can think of. I'm going to pay a visit to Grandmother Coyote."
Menolly and Delilah stared at me, openmouthed, but I stopped any protests with a raised hand. "I know, I know—the Hags of Fate are dangerous, but we have no choice. Grandmother Coyote may be able to tell us whether Jocko's death is connected with Shadow Wing."
Menolly stood. "If I'm going to hunt, I'd better get ready."
"Not so fast." I stopped her. "Wait till after midnight when there won't be so many people out and about. Besides, you made a promise, and I'm holding you to it."
She squinted, staring at me for a moment, then turned to Delilah. "Hey, Kitten, do you know where Camille's planning on taking me?"
Delilah got very busy, very fast, studying her fingernails. "I need a manicure. My nails are growing too fast again." She began to whistle.
Menolly cleared her throat. "I asked you a question."
"And I didn't answer!" Delilah said, hopping off her chair. "Don't blame me, Menolly—it's all Camille's idea!"
"Traitor!" I yelled after her, laughing as she raced up the stairs. I glanced at Menolly, who was giving me a long stare. "Get your coat and let's go."
"I don't need a coat. I don't get cold," she said dryly.
"But you can get wet, and it's pouring out right now." I slipped into my opera coat and picked up my keys. Menolly silently followed me out to the car. As I started the ignition, she popped a CD in the slot and we went sailing down the road to the wailing tunes of Godsmack.
Our destination was the basement of an old school turned community center. Goose bumps rippled along my arms as we descended the stairs, and Menolly once again hissed in my ear, "What is this? Where are you taking me?" she asked for what had to be the hundredth time since we left the house.
"Will you just shut up until we get there?" I knew she was going to be pissed. "You'll see soon enough. Please, just go along with this? For me?"
She let out a low sigh. "All right, all right. You owe me a big one."
"And I know you won't let me forget it." I flashed her a grin, and she rolled her eyes. As we came to the end of the stairs, a set of double doors faced us. On the door was a poster, and in the dim light it read V.A. Meeting, 10:00 p.m.
"This better not be what I think it is—" she started to say as I pushed open the doors. We entered the room, and with a quick look around, Menolly let out a groan. "Holy shit. Camille, what the hell were you thinking?"
"Would you quit whining and give it a chance?" I said. "Now find a place for us to sit down. And make sure we're sitting together. I don't feel safe here without you next to me."
"Serves you right," she muttered but then grabbed my arm and looked around. "There are two seats in the third row. You'd better sit next to the aisle. You're prime meat at this meeting, you know that?"
I knew she was right, but I also knew she'd never have come on her own if I'd just told her about it.
The room was about thirty by thirty feet, with four rows of chairs facing a lectern covered with a bloodred cloth.
A folding table to one side held what looked like bottles of warm blood. There was a plate of cookies and some coffee for family members. The basement had no windows, and an emergency exit offered passage to the sidewalk, probably a good idea, considering the nature of the meeting.
The other guests milled around the room. A few hovered near the ceiling, looking almost in trance. Everyone I could see was as bone-pale as Menolly. Some were dirty and matted and smelled like they could use a good bath. Others were fastidiously clean.
One woman with shocking silver hair and a figure to die for wore a black Yves St. Laurent Rive Gauche dress and Chanel ballet pumps with ribbons that wrapped up her legs. She looked stunning, even more so due to the brilliant crimson on her lips and nails that contrasted with her wan complexion. I blinked. That was Sassy Branson, the reclusive socialite mentioned in last month's Seattle Magazine. I read several local magazines to keep up to speed with the city and recognized her picture from an article about some big charity fund-raiser held a few months ago. So Sassy was a vampire? Who would have guessed?
A couple of the other vamps in the room were staring at me with obvious interest, their nostrils flaring, but when Menolly put her arm around me, they kept their distance. One of them, a geeky-looking man with a ponytail and a layer of thin fuzz covering his chin, was dressed in a Microsoft T-shirt and a pair of holey jeans. He slowly winked as he caught my gaze and raised his bottle as if in salute.
I swallowed and pressed closer to Menolly. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea—"
She snorted. "You think? But now that we're here, why don't we stick around for a little while and see what's going down?" Her eyes flashed, and I had the feeling she was enjoying watching me squirm.
I cleared my throat. "Am I the only one alive here?" Somehow I'd expected more family support to show up.
"Don't let it bother you," a voice said from behind us. "Members are prohibited from drinking from the other guests while on the premises. You'll be safe enough, at least in body. We don't control the fantasies of our participants."
I whirled. The man who had spoken was of average height with bleached blond hair. He wore a tweed jacket with leather patches on the elbows, a pair of tidy jeans, and plastic-rimmed square glasses.
Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, "I didn't know vamps ever needed to wear glasses."
"Force of habit," he said. "The glass is purely for show. I can't seem to get used to going without them. I'm still a relative newborn. In fact, I'm the one who started this group." His gaze slid over Menolly, slowly drinking her in. "If you don't mind me saying so, you're stunning."
She looked startled, and I knew what was running through her head. It had been a long time since anyone but Delilah and I'd said that to her. Humans found vampires irresistible, but it was that old undead charm that did it. For a fellow vamp to comment on her beauty was quite another matter.
"Thank you," she said slowly. "I'm Menolly. This is my sister, Camille."
He nodded. "And you're both part Faerie, if I'm not missing my guess. We're about to get started, so please take your seats, ladies."
As we made our way to our chairs, Menolly was quiet. I expected her to make some catty comment regarding the seedier-looking members of the audience, but she seemed preoccupied.
The vampire we'd been speaking to took the podium and gazed out over the twenty or so members of the audience. "Welcome, children of the night and their guests, to the regular weekly meeting of Vamps Anonymous. For those who are new, let me explain why we're here."
Menolly squirmed in her seat, glancing around. Nobody else seemed out of place, so we were probably the only newbies around.
"We're a group of recently transformed vampires—along with supportive relatives—who are all facing the difficulties inherent with adjusting to a new way of life. Or death, if you prefer. I used to be a psychiatrist before one of my clients decided I'd be better off as a vampire. Now I counsel my peers. I'll begin the introductions." He held up a hand and waved. "Hi, I'm Wade, and I've been a vampire for five years."
The audience rang out in unison with a resounding, "Hi, Wade!"
Menolly blinked, and I could see her fighting back a smile. The enthusiasm in the room, which had been so lacking before the meeting started, now reverberated from the walls as each person—vampire—gave their name and the standard speech and was met in return with a hearty welcome.
When the round-robin came to Menolly, she grabbed my hand, giving me a Please don't make me do this look.
Wade must have noticed her reluctance because he called out, "Please, don't be nervous. I know this may feel silly at first, but it's a relief to have a place where we can discuss what it's like to be undead. These weekly meetings are open to both vamps and their living family. We also have a private vamp-only meeting every two weeks for discussions of a more personal nature."
Slowly, Menolly let go of my hand. She stood up, looking like she'd rather be anywhere but here, and in a clear voice said, "Hi. I'm Menolly. I'm half-Faerie, half-human, and I've been a vampire for twelve Earthside years."
As she sat back down, everyone shouted, "Hi, Menolly!" and that faint smile crept back across her face.
By the time the meeting was over, the vampires were doing their best to be civil to me and not stare like I was a Big Mac with fries on the side.
Menolly exchanged a few phone numbers. Sassy Branson, the socialite in the Rive Gauche dress, seemed especially attentive. She still retained enough of her humanity to be taken in by our Sidhe charm, and we found ourselves—Delilah included—invited to her annual holiday cocktail party in early December. It crossed my mind that we'd be a definite social coup for her, though she did caution us to avoid mentioning that both she and Menolly were vampires.
"My friends haven't figured it out yet, and I'd like to keep it that way," she said, a savvy look on her face. "They just thought I'd taken ill for awhile, and I play up my eccentricities to keep them guessing. It was lovely to meet you, girls. Camille, you're a good sister to bring Menolly to the meeting."
Wade also made sure to get our number, and Menolly seemed only too happy to give it to him. On the drive home, I glanced at her.
"Are you mad at me for taking you there?"
She stared out the window. "At first I was, but now… I suppose not." She shrugged. "You might be right. It might be good for me to know a few other vamps who don't seem hell-bent on playing the big, dark, and ugly like most of the ones back in OW. Sassy sure doesn't dress down."
And with that, I knew that I'd been forgiven.
* * *
CHAPTER 4
By the time we arrived home, it was close to eleven thirty. Delilah peeked out from the parlor. "Is it safe to come out?" she said.
Menolly grinned. "I'm not going to bite, and Camille is still in one piece, so get your ass out here, Kitten." When Delilah joined us, Menolly added, "I notice you weren't there lending me your undying support tonight."
Delilah let out a laugh that was almost a purr. "Undying is the operative word. I thought that I should stay home in one piece to pick up what was left of Camille when you got done with her. I'm glad that you aren't upset, though. Next time—if you go—I'll be happy to go along."
Shrugging, Menolly said, "I'm not sure if I'll go again. Maybe. We'll see. I'm going downstairs and change. It's time to go hunting." She blew us a kiss and disappeared through the secret passage that led to the basement.
I watched her go, feeling the bloodlust surround her, the hunger a palpable force that radiated like a brilliant gem from her center. It had filled the room at the meeting earlier, and it was fascinating to feel the different levels of thirst that rolled through the room. After a moment, I turned back to Delilah.
"Find anything out about the Jenkins woman yet?"
She stood and stretched, her face a mask of bliss as she rolled her neck and arched her back. "Nope. I was watching Sex and the City, but I'll get to work now. I can surf the net on my laptop while Tyra's on."
My sister napped off and on through the day in her office, but like any cat, she spent part of the night awake. She'd developed an addiction to late-night TV, a realm that I avoided at all costs. I loved movies and had been gorging on them since we first crossed over Earthside, but Delilah had a taste for the lurid that eluded me, an odd contrast to her noncombative nature. At least at night I was usually asleep. Delilah liked company during the wee hours, and she'd cajoled Menolly to sit through more episodes of Jerry Springer than I wanted to count.
"Louise shouldn't be too hard to track down. When are you leaving to visit Grandmother Coyote?" she asked, giving a little shudder. "I don't envy you, that's for sure. Those Elementals scare the hell out of me."
"You are such a wuss," I said fondly. "But I love you anyway." I stared out at the blustery night. The wind was whipping leaves off the trees. We had less than a week before the full moon. Delilah would be useless that night, Menolly would be on the prowl, and I would be at the zenith of my power and more than a little crazed. "I'd better go now. I don't think she hangs around the woods during the day—too much chance some idiot with a gun might catch her."
Delilah shuddered. "Better you than me. Be careful, Camille. People prowl these woods too, and humans can be as dangerous as Elementals. There are a lot of evil men in the world."