Sips of Blood Part 20

The fangs worked as a hindrance, piercing veins way past the necessary p.r.i.c.k. The tongues lapped at the rivers of blood spreading across the corpse. One held a torn-off breast, sucking the flesh between its mangled lips, forcing its tongue deep inside the hollow it had dug.

Some squeezed portions of the body over their mouths, catching drops deep inside their throats. Gobs of flesh were swallowed with the liquid.

Cannibals, she thought. But what was she? Actually, as an embalmer she stole from the grave robbers. What did they do when formaldehyde instead of rich blood squirted into their mouths?

Mesmerized, Liliana waited. She watched. The s.e.x of each diner could be determined by the shape of the body. The faces no longer differentiated one from the other. Gentleness and strength had been leached from their features. Even facial definition blurred in the ma.s.s of sucking and chewing.

But she watched. To learn about her kind. They were all vampires. The family of vampires. They dramatically depicted the ancient peasant stories of what vampires were. Not romantic, sophisticated lovers, as her uncle portrayed himself. How had the line been drawn? And who were the freaks? The pack before her? Or the evolved lineage of her uncle? Or did it all eventually come down to the scene in front of her?

She envisioned her uncle howling and commanding even in dementia.

Like dogs burying bones, the pack gathered the waste and brushed it back into the grave. Rapidly they returned the soil to the site and stomped the muddied soil tightly into the grave.

A single member of the pack made a movement toward her. She faced the thing full-on and drove it back a step. It could smell the blood inside her veins. They all could. The pack waited for the member who dared to step back into Liliana's reach. It scowled and hissed and moved in jittery motions. Its hunger had not been sated. When Liliana put her hand out to it, immediately it tried to gnash its fangs into it. But her speed exceeded the mutant's.

The leader, tiring of the pathetic display, led the others back to the old section of the cemetery. Feeling alone and unsure of itself, the last mutant followed behind the pack.

Chapter 34.

In the morning Marie cancelled her clients' appointments. There were few clients now. She guessed it was because of her behavior, edgy and pre-occupied. Only Garrett seemed to be turned on by her indifference. But her work demeanor would change after today. She would see to it before noon.

She had chosen blatantly suggestive attire: a black lace bustier and a black half-slip that she used as a skirt. She had eliminated a layer of clothing. The spiked-heeled shoes had straps that wrapped around her ankles several times, and the hose shadowed her still-shapely legs in opaque black.

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 sungla.s.ses 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 gla.s.s 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 h.e.l.l 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 h.e.l.l 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 pa.s.s. 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 b.a.s.t.a.r.d!

"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."

"s.h.i.t, 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 s.l.u.tty teenage prost.i.tute. 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 chere, 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 a.s.sociate. 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 a.s.sure you, monsieur, that my influence is limited. But I will certainly think on it, for she has become a bit too a.s.sertive."