Garnet Lacey - Dead If I Do Part 8

Exhaust-blackened crust covered the snow piles on either side of the highway. A murder of crows burst into noisy flight as we pa.s.sed a racc.o.o.n carca.s.s on the side of the road.

"I think you should wait," I said. "Let me gather the coven first. We'll do our spell of protection and make sure to include you."

"Maybe you could ask the G.o.ddess for some guidance," he said. I thought he sounded tired.

"You could try praying."

"I don't believe in the G.o.ddess," he said.

"I wasn't suggesting that," I said.

He glanced at me briefly. "I haven't prayed to . . . not since the excommunication."

"I've been thinking. If the exorcism drove out Tereza's illness-not her vampirism-well, what if . . . What if you could be a Catholic again?"

He shook his head. "I still am Catholic. I'm just excommunicated."

"You know what I mean."

Sebastian's jaw twitched. He reached for the sungla.s.ses he always kept in the cup holder, and his lips were tight. I'd been with Sebastian long enough to know what that meant: time to change the subject. I s.h.i.+elded my eyes as we turned eastward, directly into the sun. I felt like I must look like Nosferatu in that old, black -and- white movie. How ironic then that I sat next to a real vampire who looked relatively comfortable in the harsh light.

"You know what's weird?" I said, grateful that we'd gotten into the city, and the buildings and tall trees now occasionally blocked out the glare. "It seemed to me that Tereza was slinking off to hide this morning. Given that she's your progeny, shouldn't she be able to daywalk?"

Sebastian's frown deepened. "What are you suggesting?"

"Well, you always told me that the change didn't work, and Matyas is pretty desperate to have his mom back. Vampires have that mutant healing factor. Maybe he thought if someone else turned her, you know, more-or-less 'all the way,' she'd get better, you know, faster."

"So you think the pope healed her illness, but some other vampire got her up and walking, as it were?" His knuckles flexed on the steering wheel.

"It makes sense, doesn't it?"

Sebastian's jaw clenched. Clearly, he didn't like the idea. "I suppose it does."

"I'm just saying it's not unlike Matyas to hedge his bets."

"She responded to my spell well enough," Sebastian muttered under his breath.

"What do you mean?" I asked. "What difference does that make?"

"I was just thinking that if Tereza has another Blood Sire, then my power over her would be diluted. That would explain why she could try to kill me at all, I suppose."

"I don't know anything about this whole Blood Sire thing. Parrish would hardly talk about his."

"Well, I don't have one," Sebastian reminded me. "I'm just making guesses."

"But you knew a spell over her would work. How did you know?"

Sebastian gave me a sidelong glance through his sungla.s.ses. "I've been around for a thousand years. You think I never met another vampire in all that time?"

"So you do know something," I said. A stand of oak trees that had firmly held on to bronzed leaves blocked the sunlight momentarily.

"Not really. The vampire I met was very . . . cagey about her traditions. Plus it turns out vampires are very territorial. She saw me as a threat."

"She?" I asked. I knew Parrish's Sire was actually a lady, but I had no idea Sebastian had ever met one. I was feeling a little jealous.

Sebastian nodded; not picking up on the subtext, he stared at the road. "I learned, though, that one thing Hollywood got right was that a vampire increases in power the more progeny they have. It 's because they have power over the other person-the power of life and death."

"So, what are you saying? A Blood Sire can kill their progeny, what, with a stern glance?"

Sebastian laughed. "No, by breaking the bond with a spell."

"Can you break with Tereza?"

"Didn't you hear what I said?" he asked sharply. "If I did that, it'd kill her."

"Oh." And that would be bad because? "But there's another vampire's mark on her," I pointed out.

Sebastian glared at me. "It's too risky."

I nodded. I was right about Sebastian. He still cared enough about her not to want to hurt her. Perhaps I should try Matyas's tack. "Well, maybe if we can find this other Sire, we can enlist their help. Matyas seems to think all she needs is some direction."

"If that's even the case." Sebastian reminded me, as he adjusted his sungla.s.ses. "No, Tereza's problem is that she's been buried too long."

"Still, maybe this other Sire could, you know, take her under his wing." "His?" Sebastian asked. "You have a reason to think it's a man?"

Unfortunately, I could think of one likely suspect right away, one that was known to trade his bites for hard, cold cash.

It didn't take long for Sebastian to come to the same conclusion. "If it's that Daniel Parrish, he's going to wish he'd stayed dead."

Fifth Aspect: Semiquintile

KEY WORDS: Difficult, Blocked

At the curb, I gave my dark and brooding vampire a quick kiss good-bye. He hardly noticed me for the b.l.o.o.d.y murder in his eyes. I suspected he was going to spend the morning hunting down people who might know where Parrish slept during the day.

My only comfort was that I knew the type that Parrish attracted as ghouls; they tended toward fierce loyalty. Not only that, but I was sure any sort of bullying of another vamp 's ghouls would get Sebastian in trouble with whatever weird, shadowy organization controlled the Suppliers' Guild. He wasn't going to get very far, but he'd be able to let off some steam on a wild- goose chase. As I watched Sebastian drive away without even a wave, I thought he might need it.

I strolled the half a block up to my store. State Street is a pedestrian mall, so Sebastian had let me off at the nearest cross street. The sky was a brilliant blue. I could see the white marble dome of the Capitol building a few blocks farther up. My breath crystallized into white puffs in the air. The tip of my nose was red by the time I saw my reflection in the door of my store.

Flipping on the lights, I went through the routines of getting the store ready for opening. I had the till counted and in place by the time William came in with two large cups of coffee from Holy Grounds.

"Froufrou drink?" he offered.

"Thanks," I said, and we clinked the tops of our plastic lids in a faux toast to our girly lattes.

"Izzy's in a bad mood," William said, sipping his drink. "I think she and Matt had a fight."

"Matt?"

"So much easier to say than Matyas. Anyway, I heard her call him that once as a pet name."

Somehow I couldn't quite imagine Matyas as a Matt. That sounded like someone who was the captain of the football team in high school, not some Eurotrash son of a vampire. "Did he like it?"

"He did when she said it. I haven't quite had the nerve to try it to his face for myself."

"Wise move," I said. William followed me as I went to unlock the front door and flip on the neon Open sign in the window.

"What do you think their fight was about?"

"You're kidding, right? What do you think?"

"His mom."

William nodded. We walked back to the register and the little circular alcove that surrounded it. "Plus, I don't think Izzy likes being on the business end of you and Sebastian."

"Did she say that?" I was shocked. I never thought of myself as having a "business end," though Sebastian could be scary when he was intent on something. Still, if she spent any time at all with Matyas she must be aware that what he and his father shared didn't exactly qualify as a functional relations.h.i.+p.

"She didn't say anything. She was really grouchy."

That wasn't much like Izzy. I resolved to go talk to her during my break to see what was going on. Maybe she knew something about the possibility of Parrish's involvement in the whole Tereza thing . . . or maybe I could convince her to help me try to find out.

A customer came in looking for a good book on magical journaling, and soon I was knee-deep in the usual Sat.u.r.day business.

In no time, it was noon, and I'd missed my break.

I thought I might have lunch over at Holy Grounds and see about chatting with Izzy now. But when I went into the back office to file a few of the bills that had come in with the post, I saw the note I 'd left myself on the calendar. Today was the day I was supposed to go down to the courthouse to pick up the application for our marriage license. I was also supposed to check in with the Unitarian minister who would be officiating our ceremony to arrange getting the programs printed up.

Izzy would have to wait.

Changing out of the Converses I kept in my bottom desk drawer, I stomped into my heavy winter boots. I wrapped a fluffy pink and metallic yarn scarf around my neck and shrugged into my down-filled ski jacket. A matching pink hat snuggled in tight over my ears. Pulling my bright orange Tigger gloves on, I was set.

I let William know that I might be a little long at lunch and then braved the outside. The temperature had warmed up to a comfortable thirty degrees, but the sky had gone gray and overcast. I could smell the promise of snow in the air, and the breeze that touched my face was heavy with moisture. Nervous flocks of house sparrows pecked at the sand and salt pebbles along the edges of the sidewalks.

The bus to the courthouse was overheated with stale, claustrophobic air, but the ride was mercifully short. I phoned Sebastian from the front steps and reminded him to meet me at the church. Getting the application involved navigating a maze of government offices and prying information out of overworked and underpaid bureaucrats. Even though the whole affair took less than a half hour, it seemed to last forever. I felt drained by the time I found myself waiting for the bus to take me to the church.

I checked my watch. Either the bus was late, or I'd just missed it. I phoned Sebastian and told him just to get started with the minister and that I'd be there as soon as I could. He offered to pick me up, but I was sure the bus was coming any minute.

He snorted. "I sure hope someone buys you a car as a wedding present. If you're not careful, it's going to be me."

"How'd it go?" I asked him. "Did you find out whether Parrish turned Tereza or not?" I stepped out into the street to see if I could see the bus.

I heard Sebastian sigh. "No one is talking, but the less people say, the more suspicious I am."

"Could you do me a favor?"

"Of course," he said. "Anything."

"Would you call the coven about tonight? Maybe pick up some munchies and beer so we can have a bit of a party?" After all the ha.s.sle at the courthouse, I really wanted to have some fun.

"Leave it to me, darling."

"Thanks," I said.

He must have heard the tension leave my body slightly, because he added, "Look, why don't you go back to the store. I can handle this program thing on my own. I know how it's all supposed to go. We've talked about all the readings and hymns a million times. Besides, if I'm unsure of anything, I can always give you a ring."

I chewed on my lip. I wasn't sure whether it would make me more or less stressed not to be there. Sebastian was right, though. We'd gone over the events of the day a thousand times. "Yeah, okay," I said. "I haven't had lunch yet."

I left the bus stop and considered the options for places that might have decent vegetarian fare. As I settled into a window booth at a Chipotle, I watched the bus roll by. Ah, well. Munching on a burrito full of beans and rice and all the works, I pulled a pen from my jacket. On a napkin, I started trying to salvage my upcoming wedding plans. I reconstructed my timeline of all the people I needed to check in with-catering staff, bartenders, ushers, church musicians, outfitters-and a baker for that d.a.m.n cake!-anyone I could think of, and I started a list of ways to fix what had already gone wrong.

When I left the restaurant, I was feeling pretty confident that I had things in hand. I was going to get through this. That, of course, is when my mother called. She was in tears.

"It has to be your grandmother's dress," she sobbed. "It just wouldn't be right if you didn't have your grandmother's dress.

I've always dreamed of seeing my baby in the dress I wore. My little baby girl," she sniffed.

Oh great G.o.ddess. I'd had no idea. Never in my life had she ever told me about this dress. I 'd seen her wedding photos, of course, but she'd never made a big deal of it then. "Mom? Where are you? Do you want to talk about it?"

"I want you to wear the dress." She was hysterical. It sounded like she'd been holding on to this emotion for the past few days, and it was all finally bursting out. "Say you'll wear the dress!"

"I'm on my way over to your hotel, okay?" My folks were staying at the Concourse, which was just off State Street, only a few blocks from my work. I said good-bye, told her I loved her, and hung up. I started booking for the bus. Just what I didn't need: a Mom meltdown!

The black-and-white photo was grainy, and it was difficult to really see the details, especially since it had been folded several times to fit in her wallet. In the picture my mother looked happy in a very, very old -fas.h.i.+oned dress- Victorian, even. It was high-necked, long-sleeved, beaded, with a veil and everything. I sat on the edge of the hotel bed. My mom leaned against me, arm around my shoulder. My dad sat at the desk, his stocking feet propped up on a foot-stool. He gave me a little I-don't-get-this- girl-stuff shrug when I gave him an appealing glance.

"It's beautiful," I said, though it was totally not my style.

My mom rubbed my shoulders. "Oh, honey. You'd look so lovely." She stopped and stared at my head. I had sticky, sweaty, hat head. My mother tsked her tongue and touched the frayed tips of my hair. "If we did something with your hair, of course."

I was about to tell her that I had all that arranged. My guy, Paul, had blocked the whole morning for me and my bridesmaids.

"I called around. Your aunt Edith knows someone here in town who can get your hair back to its natural color. Then maybe we could add some curls-a nice, light perm. What do you think, dear?" She asked my dad.

"Hmm," he said noncommittally. He'd picked up a copy of the tourist magazine and was leafing through it. "Sounds nice."