Accidentally Demonic (7 page)

Wanda latched onto her forearm and snatched Casey’s fingers from her wrist while Marty jammed a finger between her teeth, and Nina tugged at her feet to keep her at eye level. “Casey! Get a grip. Please. Relax. If you don’t stop this right now, we can’t help you.”

Frothy saliva had begun to foam at the corner of her mouth, snatching her hand back from Wanda; she ran her thumb over her lip to wipe it away. “Help me? Help me? How is what
she
just did helping me?” she spat at Nina. Gazing at the two of them with hard eyes, she accused, “What have you done to my sister? What kind of sick psychopaths are you? Wanda—what the hell have you gotten into? Did you do that to your teeth, too?”

“Oh, Casey. I didn’t do that to my teeth. It just happened when I was—”

“
Turned
, right? Is that the word you’re going to use? Is this some kind of cult you joined where they use crazy catch phrases like
turned
and
bloodletting
? I thought I’d seen everything there was to see with the two undisciplined, spoiled- rotten brats I babysit, but this beats even that place called ‘The Dungeon’ they talked me into going to by telling me it was a cool medieval fair. So you know what, Wanda? I don’t think I’m the one who owes you an explanation at all! It’s you who owes me one because whatever you’re into is sick. It’s sick, Wanda—do you hear me? And if I ever get down from here, I’m calling . . . I’m . . . I dunno, but it’ll involve an intervention and a long stay somewhere tranquil with lots of medication in big syringes.”

Out of nowhere, Nina threw her head back and laughed, right in the middle of Casey’s meltdown. “You know, I gotta give you your props, Casey. You’re sort of at a disadvantage here, and still you’re all feisty from way up there. And you didn’t even pass out when I showed you my teeth. I thought for sure you were the kind of chick who’d need a cold washcloth and a wake-up slap to the head. So I’m going to cut you some slack because I admire your stick-to-itiveness. So here’s the thing: my teeth are for real, dude. I haven’t had implants, and I sure as hell didn’t have them filed. I’m a vampire. Marty’s a dog, and Wanda’s half vampire, half dog. If you want, I can latch onto a vein to prove it to you, or Wanda can shift into her werewolf form. So let’s get over this ‘Oh, my God, you’re all nuts, what did you do to my sister’ bullshit and get to figuring out what the fuck is going on. In other words, suck it up, buttercup, and let’s figure this shit out so I can get the hell away from you tards.”

“I
can
show you, Casey,” Wanda offered, her words solemn and low. “And I’m not a dog. Neither is Marty. There’s a huge difference between werewolves and dogs. Nina’s just rude and likes nothing more than to create chaos, as you’ve already seen. Now, are you going to lay off the crazy and cooperate so we can try and figure this out, or are you going to continue to go the route of cults and brainwashing? Honestly, I’m having trouble with the fact that you’re having difficulty believing us. You are the only one in the room levitating.”

Score one for team bipolar.

She was indeed hovering like a hot-air balloon with absolutely no explanation. She had to give that much up.

“Don’t forget the fireballs,” Nina reminded. “Which brings me to another point here, sunshine.” She held up a lock of hair on the side of her head that had been totally fried not twenty minutes ago. “You did set my hair on fire. You did see that it was burnt like a forgotten hot dog on a barbecue on the Fourth of July, didn’t you?”

Casey’s eyes widened. She had.

Nina twirled the glossy, totally unfried black length around a slender finger. “Now? Not so much, right? So how do you suppose that happened? Wanna know why that happened? Because I have healing properties. All vampires can heal themselves when they’re injured.”

“Well, unless they’re staked through the heart with something made of wood and their heads are chopped off in one simultaneous act of depravity,” Marty offered helpfully, smiling.

Oh.

Score two.

“So how about you suspend your disbelief for the moment and we try to figure this out?” Wanda took Casey’s hand between hers and rubbed, warming the frigid tips of her fingers.

“O-okay.” Her ears seemed almost surprised at what her mouth had just agreed to. Casey rolled her head on her neck to loosen her stiff muscles while stalling for a moment to rationalize. On a somber note, what choice did she have? Wanda was right on all counts, and if—
if
what they said was true, it explained why they weren’t running around calling on the Lord and throwing holy water at her. If what Nina had shown her was real—really real—it was only another piece of evidence to back up their story.

Wanda’s smile was determined. “Okay. So let’s put our heads together.” She turned to her friends. “She’s obviously not vamp or were because none of us can levitate or shoot flames from our fingers. Though, Nina, you can fly.”

Bet that’d piss Superman off.

Hold up. Fly? Nina could fly. Panic began to rise once more, and it was all Casey could do to force it to back down.

“Yeah, but I can’t hover like she does. She’s been up there forever like the Goodyear Blimp, Wanda. Did you guys see her eyes when she had her back up? Dudes, they glowed—red.”

Marty gasped, nodding her head. “Yeah, they did. Oh, Jesus . . . maybe she’s possessed? It was sorta shades of Linda Blair. The only thing she didn’t do was spin her head around.”

Casey blanched. Of all her fears in this lifetime—being mugged, losing a limb, dying a long, drawn- out death—she’d never considered possession had the kind of potential to make all those other things seem like frolicking on a white, sandy beach.

Wanda nudged Marty. “Stop. You’re freaking her out. We’re just talking this out, Casey. Don’t panic—”

Wanda was interrupted by the buzz of Casey’s intercom. “Miss Schwartz?” a deep baritone called.

“Shit,” Casey whisper-yelled, “that’s Roosevelt. He’s the doorman downstairs. Damn it, damn it, damn it, if Lola and Lita are at it again, I swear, I’ll kill them. Wanda, press the button and let me answer him, please. Hurry, before he calls Mr. Castalano.” Oh, Christ on a skateboard, if he woke up her boss, the shit would fly.

Wanda zipped to the door and pressed the black button. Casey called out, “Yes, Roosevelt? Is everything okay? Is it the girls?”

“Right as rain, Miss Schwartz,” his ever-so-slight Southern drawl assured.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“There’s someone here to see you.”

To see her—or someone pretending they were here to see her but really wanted to see one of the “blonde-tourage?” The twins had pulled that crap on her more than once, using her name to sneak someone upstairs. It better not be that rapper with the gold teeth, or, given the op, she’d set more on fire than just his hair. “Who?”

“A man. A big man, Miss.”

“A man?”

“Thass what I said.”

“What man?”

“A big one.”

She sighed. “His name, Roosevelt. What’s his name?”

“He says his name is Clayton Gunnersson.”

Nina ran to the door, pulling Wanda’s finger from the button. “Clayton’s here?”

“You know him?” Casey asked.

Her glossy head dipped. “Yeah, he’s my husband’s best friend. Oh, shit. Maybe something happened to Greg?”

Casey’s eyes sought Nina’s. “How could he know you were here?”

“Grab your panties again, fruit cup—vampires can read minds. It’s sorta like a GPS, and if we need to contact each other for help, we send out a signal. A brain wave or some crazy shit, and if Clay’s here, it’s urgent. Unless you’re mated, vampires don’t send out signals unless shit’s going down, or it’s an emergency.”

Concern riddled Nina’s features, prompting Casey to ignore the surreal nature of one more paranormal detail and urge Wanda to let her tell Roosevelt to send this Clay up. “Send him up to the back elevator so he won’t disturb anyone, please.”

“Yesssss, ma’am, and you have a right fine evenin’, Miss Schwartz.”

“Wait!” Casey held up a hand to the women. “We can’t let him see me like this. I’m floating.”

“I told you, he’s vampire. He gets it,” Nina said over her shoulder, running for the door.

So really, who wasn’t? But the worry written all over Nina’s face kept Casey’s mouth glued shut.

Nina pulled the door open, stepping to the side to allow a tall, sandy-haired man into Casey’s apartment.

Casey’s eyes went wide when he stepped out of the shadows and into the entryway light. Her stomach shifted to the point of discomfort and her heart began to pulse.

Shazam.

“Is it Greg, Clay?” Nina asked, her expression vulnerable, a stark contrast to the seething fury of before.

Clayton Gunnersson’s eyes said surprised when he saw Nina at the door, but then he placed a hand—a big brawny one—on Nina’s shoulder, making Casey twitch with an odd emotion she didn’t know how to compartmentalize. “Nope. He’s fine. So, heeeeeey. Funny meeting you here?”

Nina sagged against the door in clear relief. “Christ on the crap-per, you scared the hell out of me, Clay.”

“Everything’s fine. Greg’s playing poker with some of the clan. Aren’t you supposed to be getting mud baths and seaweed facials this weekend?” Clayton’s throaty question to Nina made Casey fairly glow. It wasn’t the question that did it, either. It was the scratchy, throaty tone to his reassurance.

“Yeah, and do you remember when I told you and Greg I’d rather do almost anything else than go to some stupid-ass spa?”

The corner of his lips lifted in a smirk. “I do.”

“I fucking lied.”

Clayton chuckled, but as quickly as he let loose that sensual growl of amusement, his lips returned to a thin, grim line. “What are you doing here, Nina—with her?” He tipped his head in Casey’s direction.

“She’s Wanda’s little sister, Casey—and we have a problem.”

Clayton’s eyes strayed to Casey’s, locking with her bewildered stare. Shards of heat rose from the tips of her toes to land on her cheeks. “Yeah. I guess her floating midair is problematic—or cool, depending on if your glass is half full, or half empty, but color yourself relieved of the problem. Now she’s
my
problem.”

“Excuse me?” Casey finally found her voice.

“I said you’re my problem,” he answered back, all man, all serious, but then he grinned. “I’m here because I did this to you. You’re floating because of me.” He paused, watching Casey’s eyes react, then nodded. “I know, right? It’s crazy, but it’s true. I’m sure right now you don’t like me much, seeing as you’re tied to a chair, but maybe, in a week or so, you’ll thank me, because you have to admit—it
is
wicked cool.”

“What are you talking about?” Wanda crowed, reaching around Nina to give Clayton a quick hug and a questioning glance.

Clayton winked at Casey’s sister with a casual smile as though a woman floating was all part and parcel of a vampire’s day. “Hey, Wanda, how’s Heath?”

Her eyes brightened at the mention of Heath’s name. “He’s good. So how is my sister your problem?”

“I’m the one who did this to her.” He said it as if he owned it, and again, Casey twitched with a discomfort that might be described as deliciously decadent. And that was ridiculous.

Nina was the first to respond with the slap of her palm to forehead. “Go figure. In how many lifetimes do ya think shit like this goes down not once, but four times? Un-fucking-believable,” she muttered.

Marty turned to Clayton, her blue eyes deep in confusion. “So is she a vampire? Because, hoo boy, is Nina ever going to be pissed that Casey can shoot fireballs and she can’t. That’s some neener-neener, huh, Elvira?”

Nina flipped her the bird.

But hold the phone. “I’m tied to a chair because of
you
?”

“That you are—with pantyhose. My deepest apologies.”

As much as she wanted to be hacked off about that, who could be hacked off at a guy who looked like this Clayton did? He was stone-cold fine. As fine as fine could be, and while she should be focusing on his declaration, she wasn’t. Things were beginning to get distorted internally again—totally out of whack. Wobbling, she asked, “What exactly did you do to me? I don’t even know you.” That sounded completely lucid and held together despite the inner boil of her intestines.

“True enough. We don’t know each other, but we did bump into each other the other night in a club called Crimson Lips. Know it?”

Marty looked up at Casey. “Wasn’t that where you were arrested, Casey?”

Clayton didn’t let her answer. “She was. It was bedlam. But you look like you’re okay—well, except for, you know . . .” He waved his hand upward along the length of her body.

Casey frowned. “But I don’t remember seeing you. . . .”

Rocking back on his heels, he wrinkled his nose and squinted his dark eyes. “Yeaahhhh.” He let the word draw out, adding some drama. “I’m guessing that’s because you were otherwise occupied with a photographer, a man who was only trying to help you, and a wall. But to your credit, you were awesome in action. Very Jackie Chan.” He whipped his hands around in a karate move.

Closing her eyes, Casey forced herself to try to remember the visual he created, but she came up dry after the photographer. “I don’t remember much from that night.”

“That’s what I figured, and that’s why I’m here. To explain, and hopefully, to help.” He took two strides, holding his hand out to Casey. “Take my hand and I’ll get you down.”

The. Hell.

On the outside, she shrank away from his touch. Ah, but on the inside, her girlie bits were all woo to the hoo. Wait. What were her bits, or for that matter, any bits, doing showing up at this soiree? She’d forgotten she had lady parts; it’d been so long since she’d last had time to even pay attention to a man.

“He won’t hurt you,” Nina reassured.

Casey’s lips tightened and a spike of fury rocketed along the back of her neck. “And you know that how? By your vampire GPS—or did your fangs tell you that?”