Broken Heart 04 Wait till Your Vampire Gets Home (25 page)

“You know what would be really great?” said Patsy from her spot on the yellow couch. “If we could live in this town without some kind of asshole trying to off us every couple of months. I’d like to raise my kids without fearing for their lives every day.”

“We could build a shield for the town,” said Brady. He leaned against the wall, his eyes on all the exits. Ash was doing the same thing, but on the other side of the room. She hadn’t said much since we’d gotten back.

“I can manipulate fire, make water dance, send demons back to hell, fly around the sky, bend metal, talk to ghosts, shift into a wolf, and glamour others,” said Patsy. “But I still can’t make a whole town invisible.”

“I could do it,” said Brady.

All eyes turned to him.

“Dora says we’re staying. So, we’re staying.”

“Okay,” said Patsy. She looked at me, my parents, and Brady. “Welcome to Broken Heart.”

Chapter 28

Three months later ...

 
“Everything’s normal,” said Dr. Merrick as she stared at the monitor.

I lay on the examining table, my shirt pushed up to reveal my rounded tummy. Gel was smeared all over it, and Dr. Merrick merrily pushed her little wand all over my abdomen. Ralph stood next to me, holding my hand.

“Scales?” I asked. “Is there smoke in there? Or is she covered in fire?”

“No,” she said, chuckling. “Most shifters deliver their babies in human form. I can’t say what’s going to happen once the baby arrives. I’ve never dealt with dragons.”

I had already been imagining fire-filled burps and dragon gas that would set off fire alarms. Ralph and I were building a new house where the old one had stood. It wouldn’t be finished until the summer, but it would be bigger: five bedrooms and two and half bathrooms. We had also made plans for a swimming pool and a fort for the boys. Everything would be fireproof, including our clothes. Like Dr. Merrick said, no one had dealt with a baby dragon in a long time. Five hundred years, if Ash was right. The idea of raising our dragon daughter was both terrifying and exhilarating.

I never thought of Ash as the sentimental type, but she’d been the first to send along gifts for the baby. Her fashion wizard had created some very cute flame-retardant baby clothes. And even Brady had offered to make us some useful items from his strange techno-whatsits.

Dr. Merrick turned the monitor so it faced me and Ralph. We both peered at the image. I could make out the teeny tiny form of a baby. Oh my God. I squeezed Ralph’s hand as excitement did hand-stands through me.

Dr. Merrick pointed to a little pulsing circle. “The heart,” she said softly. “Very strong. Healthy.”

We stared at our baby girl. There she was, against all odds (An undead dad and a dragon mom? Can you say therapy?), growing inside me.

“Wow,” I said, looking up at Ralph.

“Yeah,” he said, grinning. “Wow.”

He leaned down and kissed me. His golden aura had turned red. From dragon to vampire, thanks to Ash. He didn’t have fire, not since she’d taken his dragon soul. Without the answering passion of his dragon to ignite me, we didn’t set anything on fire. All the same, we’d switched to a platform bed custom made by Brady. I wasn’t sure what the bed was made out of, but it looked like that carbonite stuff Han Solo had been frozen in. The mattress was out-of-this-world comfortable. More importantly, it couldn’t be set on fire even if you poured gasoline on it and threw on a lit match.

Ralph’s cell phone rang. My heart skipped a beat. The boys were staying with their favorite babysitter, Tamara. I was still anxious about leaving them. After all, I was their mother. A duty I shared with Therese, whom we visited every Sunday. I would make sure the boys knew their birth mother. That was the thing about love—it had no limits.

“Is it Tam?” I asked anxiously. “Are the twins okay?”

I had found that parenting held a lot of joy, frustration, and fear. I was constantly worried about Michael and Stephen, especially when they weren’t with us.

Ralph looked at the phone display and frowned. “Nope,” he said. He flipped it open. “Hello, Patsy.” He paused and his eyebrows shot upward. “What? Well, okay.”

He ended the call and looked at me. “She says we have guests, and to get to her house pronto.”

Dr. Merrick gave me some paper towels to wipe off my belly. While I got dressed, Ralph went with her to schedule the next appointment and to get a refill of my prenatal vitamins.

Twenty minutes later, we presented ourselves at Patsy and Gabriel’s mansion.

Patrick opened the door.

I gave him a hug and he returned it lightly. Vampires had quite the squeeze, so they had to be careful. Patrick and his family had become our good friends. We’d spent many a Friday night with him and Jessica and their children.

Anyway, I’d turned into a hugger. My hormones were whacked out and I felt either really affectionate or really weepy. Everyone got hugged, even the scary werewolf guys. They were a sucker for a pregnant woman’s embrace.

“What’s up?” I asked as Patrick led the way into the living room. It had been rebuilt and refurnished. Patsy had thanked me, saying my accidental demolition had been an unexpected help in the decorating process.

“You’ll have to see it to believe it,” said Patrick. He stopped and let me and Ralph go ahead of him.

Patsy sat on an oversize black velvet couch. At seven months pregnant, she was the picture of health. Or to hear her tell it, the freaking picture of when-will-these-children-get-out-of-my-aching-womb exhausted.

On the opposite couch, which was also oversized and velvet, but rather an eye-popping red, sat a teenaged boy and two older women. The auras of the females were gold.

“Dragons,” I whispered.

In the middle was a tall woman dressed in blue robes. Her silver hair was plaited into a single braid that was so long it was piled on the seat behind her. Her eyes were an odd shade of blue-green. I could sense her fire. My eyes were drawn to her gold-rope necklace, and to the fire red jewel that rested just above her bosom. I heard it singing. I didn’t recognize the song, but knew it was ancient, primal.

On the left side of this imposing woman was a teenaged boy. He wore black jeans, a Cure T-shirt, and studded black boots. His eyes were black. Not dark brown. Black. So was his hair, which fanned over his scalp in a Mohawk. His eyebrows, lips, and nose were all pierced. His aura told me he was a human. He sure kept odd company. Or maybe it was the dragons keeping odd company.

My gaze shifted to the woman on the other side of Silver Hair. She was older, too. She looked in her early sixties. She wore a crocheted white sweater with a purple dragon on it, pink knit pants, and thick-soled orthopedic shoes. Her lilac eyes were filled with excitement.

“Hello, Libby,” said Silver Hair. “I’m Raine. This is Amethyst.”

“Oh, my! It’s such a pleasure to meet you, m’dear. When we heard about your pregnancy!” She twittered and clapped her hands. “Oh, my!”

I wasn’t sure how to respond. “Ash said dragons were rare.”

“We are. There are less than a hundred of us left. And no one has mated, much less conceived a child, in the last five hundred years.”

“How old are you?” I asked.

Amethyst’s eyes widened and she clapped a hand over her mouth. Oops.

“I’m sorry,” I said hastily. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“I don’t mind,” said Raine, giving Amethyst a fond smile. “I’m the Eldest. I’ve walked the Earth for the last three thousand years. Amethyst is a few hundred years younger, give or take.”

“Three thousand
years
?” I gulped. “Holy shit.”

Raine nodded. “You have much to learn about your new heritage.” She rose and took off the necklace. “I am here to offer you and your mate my blessing. Your child has a great destiny.”

“That’s all we need,” said Patsy, her tone sarcastic. “Destiny sure has been busy knocking up a lot of women lately.”

Raine’s gaze went to her. “Perhaps you should consider why so many were drawn to Broken Heart. Why the fates of three peoples are so closely connected.”

Patsy rolled her eyes.

Raine put the necklace on me. “Within you grows the last dragon of the Oriana line. Sybina and her brother were the youngest of our kind, and they have crossed into Yalinia. Heaven.”

“Not Synd,” I said. “He didn’t have a soul. Is there a dragon hell?”

“Yes, though we do not speak its name.” Raine frowned. “Ash told us about Synd. It is most troubling.” She looked at me, her lips curving into a smile. “No worries. This necklace holds within it ancient dragonfire. Its magical properties will protect you. When the time is right, you will give it to your daughter.

“And we have another gift for you, a talented trainer who will teach you our ways and help when the young one is born.”

Dread plunked into my stomach. My gaze turned to the boy who looked like a punk band reject.

“Rand has lived with dragons his whole life. He knows everything, and it is customary for a dragon to have a sijin.”

“Right,” I said. “I wouldn’t want to be without one of those.”

Rand got off the couch. His black gaze studied me and then Ralph. He held out a hand and we shook.

“Where do I bunk?” he asked.

“I think we’ll need a few new additions to the house,” I told Ralph.

Patsy laughed. She took her husband’s hand and kissed his knuckles. Her gaze met mine. “Never let it be said that Broken Heart is boring.”

With my parents integrating into the community, Brady and Stan building an invisible force field the size of a few football fields, and several hybrid babies on the way,
boring
would be the last word I’d use to describe Broken Heart.

For all its weirdness, there was only one word to describe this crazy town I’d come to love.

Home.

 
PRIS Founders Honored at Memorial Service by Susan Rickerson,
Tulsa
Tribune

 
Theodora and Elmore Monroe, their daughter, Seraphina, and longtime friend Braddock Hayes, were honored yesterday by friends and family at a memorial ceremony held on a private
Florida
beach.

The Monroes were founders of Paranormal Research and Investigation Services, or PRIS, and were well-known investigators of the supernatural.

The four PRIS members went missing after their Cessna 350 crashed in the Gulf of Mexico. Despite an exhaustive two-week search, neither the plane nor survivors were recovered.

“We are deeply shocked and saddened by the loss of our friends,” said Ingrid Dellingham, a longtime PRIS member and now full owner of the organization. “We will carry on their work.”

Dellingham put together several psychic circles and séances, hoping her lost friends would contact her from the Other Side.

“I think their work was done,” said Dellingham. “And they had no reason to stick around, especially since Seraphina was with them.”

Dellingham says she and her team will go to
Oregon
, as the Monroes would’ve wanted them to, to investigate the area where Bigfoot sightings have been rampant.

“Well, they’re a migratory population,” said Dellingham. “When they move on to their new nesting area, there’s always a rash of sightings.”

THE SEVEN ANCIENTS (In order of creation)

Ruadan:
(Ireland) He flies and uses fairy magic.

Koschei:
(Russia) He is the master of glamour and mind control. He was banned to the world between worlds.

Hu Mua Lan:
(China) She is a great warrior who creates and controls fire. She was killed during her attack on Queen Patricia.

Durga:
(India) She calls forth, controls, and expels demons. She was banned to the world between worlds.

Velthur:
(Italy) He controls all forms of liquid.

Amahté:
(Egypt) He talks to spirits, raises the dead, creates zombies, and reinserts souls into dead bodies.

Zela:
(Nubia) She manipulates all metallic substances.

GLOSSARY 1

A ghrá mo chroi:
(Irish Gaelic) love of my heart

A stóirín:
(Irish Gaelic) my little darling

A Thaisce:
(Irish Gaelic) my dear/darling/treasure

Cac capaill:
(Irish Gaelic) horse shit

Damnú air:
(Irish Gaelic) damn it

Deamhan fola:
(Irish Gaelic) blood devil

Draba:
(Romany) spell/charm

Draíocht:
(Irish Gaelic) magic

Droch fola:
(Irish Gaelic) bad or evil blood

Gadjikane:
(Romany) non-Gypsy

Filí:
(Old Irish) poet-druid

Filíocht:
(Old Irish) poetry, i.e., verbal magic

Ja:
(German) yes

Liebling:
(German) darling

Loup de Sang:
(French) blood wolf

Mo chroi:
(Irish Gaelic) my heart