Coffin Fit (The Grateful Undead series Book 4) (7 page)

As Resi, Chick and Zaire paused in the entranceway, a woman with a walker barreled through. "Get your move on, girlies. I might be dead before they start calling my numbers if you don't get the hell outta the way." She plowed halfway through them.

Resi and Zaire slid aside; Chick's eyes challenged the blue-haired lady tented in a Hibiscus covered muumuu.

Before Chick could regurgitate a smart remark, a shriveled up, pasty, sallow man shuffled up and guided them over a few feet to the left of the door. He shook a finger at the drive-by. "Harriett, everyone has a first time here. You remember that, ole girl, and try to find your manners next time."

The tented Muumuu waddled into the chaos with a disgruntled huff.

The old guy pulling the oxygen tank—a bingo bag hanging from the handle—looked hard at Chick. His whitewashed, gray eyes blinked a cheerful memory before he hacked liquidly into a wadded up handkerchief and then stuffed it into his back pocket.

"Hey there, good lookin'," the man said to Chick. "Haven't we met before? You look awfully familiar, but then with the drugs I'm takin' nowadays, a park bench looks familiar."

That he found funny, shook his head and hee-hee-heed a phlegmy laugh. "Kidding aside, cutie, aren't you Concetta Stech, Grace Wilson's friend from the Dora trailer park? She died last year, ya know—you haven't aged a minute. In fact, you look twenty years younger."

"Yeah, well, I
gotta kick at the darkness 'till it bleeds daylight
," Chick said. She was quoting Bruce Cockburn, a folk-singer cult-figure from the sixties. "You know, hours grow shorter as the days go by." When the old man crinkled up his face, Chick added, "
Lovers in a dangerous time
, an' all."

This got another chuckle from the old guy. "It is you, right? I remember that song. Shared a dance at one of those potlucks."

"Shame about Wilson," Chick said sarcastically. "You'd think that woman could have talked her way out of an early grave."

Chick and JoAnn had lived in a mobile home park before hurricanes Charlie, Ivan and Jeanne caused major damage in 2004. Mrs. Wilson was Chick's nemesis during the twenty years she'd lived in there, not her best friend. The woman waggled her tongue more often than she changed her
Depends
.

Chick bounced her eyebrows at Resi and Zaire, and turned to the old man. "You wanna sit with us during Bingo? We could take a little walk in the parking lot during intermission and talk old times."

The guy's lips spread a good sized smile. "Sounds like a date. I usually hit at least second base on a first date," the old codger joked before retrieving the well-used handkerchief and using it efficiently again.

Chick handed a wad of cash to her granddaughter. "Resi, get our packages; buy me the small—three sheets—a red dabber, and get me one dollar of each of the specials.
A
nd Mr. Hell-On-An-Oxygen-Tank over here will find a good table. You better find us before they draw the first ball."

"Oh, yeah! We're playing!" Resi did a little jump and clapped her wrinkled hands.

"Alrighty then," Zaire said. Face flawless, body tight, and femininely muscular, she looked like their caregiver.

Chick watched the girls disappear into the crowded, smoke-filled room as they headed toward the buying counter and playing packages.

A thin, spry woman looking to be in her eighties pushed by with a walker on wheels. Heading toward a desk at the side of the room, she honked a bike horn and plowed through moseying seniors.

The old guy elbowed Chick. "That older one that calls you Nanna, she got all her brain cells? What did she think you came here for?" His voice rose above the chatter and shuffling walkers.

Chick answered
Dinner.
"That was a private joke. The girls usually find me a table and come back for me at around ten thirty. I guess they don't trust you." Chick winked.

His pale face brightened; a bit of mischief put a twinkle in his eyes. "Or they're afraid you'll take advantage of me." He laughed, and that had him coughing into the soiled handkerchief again.

Two hours and one very wordy fight later—some bitchy woman kept shushing Chick—the caller dropped the balls back into the air drum where they bounced around in front of a window. He pulled the microphone to his lips and winked at Chick. She smiled back.

The caller had a lisp. "We will be taking a fifth-een minute in-ther-mithion. The deli ith offering a ninthe-nine thenth burger with frieth and a thoda while thhay latht. Tho get on over thhere."

"Jethuth," Chick mimicked for the umpteenth time since the guy had started his chit. "I hope the bastard is done for the night."

The bitchy woman glared at Chick.

Chick ignored her and elbowed dinner. "You want to take that walk?"

"Been waiting two hours to take
that
walk," the old guy wheezed. He rose carefully, adjusted the oxygen thing in his nose, and looked down at Chick.

Resi sidled up between them, tilted her head, one eyebrow reaching for her hairline. "Nanna, you be careful out there in the parking lot. And you be nice to..."

The old guy stretched out his right hand, grabbed Resi's before she could wrinkle her nose, and shook vigorously. "The name's Randy, Randy Offstedder," he said with a raspy voice. "Still live at Dora Pines." After a two-minute coughing fit, he said, "Don't you worry about a thing, little lady. I'll protect Concetta and bring her back safely." A small mound barely nudged the skin on his left bicep as he pushed back his shirt sleeve and flexed.

~~~~

SIX

~~~~

The make-shift bunkroom was dark, cramped, cold, and damp. The air was stale and rank with the smell of mold, animal waste, rotting wood pallets, and dried blood. The only reason the nine vampires were crowded into the metal box-like room—door shut, no windows—was the complete privacy it afforded.

"I've secured rental vehicles in Bastia. Traveling by bus can be a nightmare," Dorius said, as his eyes scanned the men lined around the eight-by-eight storage room. "Marcus and Warren will be making their way around the island, interviewing locals in the public areas: hotels, bars, cafés, and points of interest for vacationers. The rest of us will take Route Nationale along the Bavella mountain range and make our way back up and around to the port in Calvi where Angelo will join us for the trip back to Genoa. We'll drive to Milan and join the Italian
pacchetto
before sun up.

"This is a search and flush mission to generate awareness among the
Lupus Italicus.
" Dorius
nodded at Marcus. "And also to collect local lore in connection with the wolf attacks both here and abroad. We are required to meet with the council before I . . .
we
make any attempt at retribution."

"You think this whole wolf-slash-vampire thing is directed at you," Camillio said, "don't you, Dorius?"

"I do." Dorius's jaw tightened. "The wolf and I have a history we cannot absolve."

"However—" Marcus interrupted with a firm voice. "—if any of you see a fang-infected animal and get the chance to put it down without jeopardizing the mission or getting the attention of locals, do so immediately." He looked deep into Dorius's weighted stare. "And that includes any of the lupus-shifting varieties with fangs. If there is no threat to our anonymity, it does not exclude Karl."

Dorius stood rod-still for several heartbeats, then nodded at his brother. "We have four days," he said. "Let's get the word out that—" He paused long enough for his eyes to push fury around the room. "—I. Am. Here."

"Jesus H Christ, I hate this country," Warren cut the tension. "I don't get why we all couldn't've taken an air-o-plane ride back-n-forth," he twanged as he paced a tight circle in the dank square room. "Not like there ain't four airports on this damned tourist trap of an island."

"It's too public," Marcus said.

"And too easy for the wolves to board and monitor," Dorius added. "We pay well for Angelo's protection. No one gets aboard his crafts without the proper paperwork, and several of our Italy-based immortals run the security checks."

The speed of the freighter and the sound of the engines signaled the immortals were on their way to the port of Bastia.

* * *

"Joann, get your butt signed onto that surveillance program," I yelled up the stairs, "or I'll snatch your laptop and give it to someone who cares!"

"You are not the boss of me!" my sister yelled down from her room.

"No, but Dorius is, and he was asking about you earlier. You want me to tell him you no longer work on this team? I'm sure the sunroom at BAMVC is vacant at the moment."

The door opened at the top of the stairs. "We need to end this conversation right now." JoAnn looked down on us. "I don't know if all y'all can hear it, but my sister's voice is getting bitchy, bossy, and controlling." She back stepped into the bedroom and slammed the door.

I stood at the bottom of the stairs with Betty, Christopher, and Gibbie, all of us wearing our new Bluetooth earbuds with built-in microphones, except Gibbie. Betty had his human-sized pair tucked into the pocket of her jeans. The fairy would have to turn himself into something that could wear them.

Sonny was going to give us directions from the east side of Lake Harris, where he'd attracted a herd of infected animals into a small field between the lake and woods.

"You want I should go up and get the laptop, sugar?" Betty asked me.

"I heard that!" JoAnn shouted down. "I'm signing in right now!"

We all grabbed our ears. JoAnn's last sentence had come through her bedroom door and our earbuds. She was online.

"Can you turn down the volume, Jo?" I asked as pleasantly as I could muster.

"Y'all hear that?" JoAnn's mocking voice seeped out of the earbob at a normal level. "Now we're gonna have to add sarcastic to bitchy, bossy, and controlling, y'all."

Gibbie rolled his eyes back in his head until he rocked off Christopher's shoulder and took flight.

"Let's do this," the fairy said and flitted onto Betty's shoulder.

Fifteen minutes later, we'd paired up and spread out, heading for Sonny.

"How many you got rounded up, sugar?" Betty asked Sonny through the microphone on her earbud, and we all heard it through ours.

"God," Sonny whispered, "hundreds. And they just keep coming out of the woods around the field."

"He's right," JoAnn's sharp, curt voice pecked. "He's surrounded by them." There was a long sniffling sound, an exhale, a couple of short snorts, and then my sister was back. "Betty and Gibbie will come up on the south side—" A series of short sniffles scratched the earbobs. "—Susan and Christopher will go north."

Joann sneezed three times, and then said, "Shit!"

"You want to take a minute to blow your nose?" I asked, all snotty like.

"
No
!" JoAnn said, and just about blew out my earbud.

Christopher pulled his earbud out, stuffed a pinky in his ear and shook. He had a scowl on his face when he shoved it back in.

Before I could get all bitchy on her, Gibbie's squeaky voice further assaulted. "How do you want to handle this, Susan?"

"Are you talking through a microphone?" I asked, rubbing my temples. "You sound like yourself, Gibbie, so I know you haven't morphed into something big."

"He's on my shoulder," Betty said, "talking through
my
mic, hon. And he can hear you, too. He got his itty-bitty head pushed up against my ear."

"Gibbie," I said, laced with frustration, "if you're going to keep talking to us, turn yourself into something more human."

"There she goes," my sister said. "That control bug has definitely bit her in the butt tonight."

Christopher laughed.

I didn't know if I wanted to verbally attack my sister, or aggressively ruffle partner's hair. Betty made me forget my mental conflict.

"Holy crow, darlin', you are one fine black man. In fact, I don't think I've met a man I've had such a burnin' desire to wrap my legs around an' ride till the break of dawn."

My lower stomach clenched, and a tingle spread across my pelvic area. I'd met the sexy black man Betty was drooling over on another mission. My mother was there; she just about jumped Gibbie's bones herself on that trip. I'd seen Gibbie turn into a crow that almost pecked one of Betty's eyeballs out, a badass Cyclops that plucked a gator out of a river to save Christopher, and, of course, the hunky black guy. I had never been so attracted to a man in my life. Marcus said it was part of the fairy's spell. Yeah, right? So why was I creaming myself now? I couldn't even see him.

"I'm not doin' no such thing," Betty twanged in our ears, and plucked me right out of my wicked little fantasy. "Dorius, you just go right back to sleep on that island of debauchery and come on back when you have answers for me. Until then, if I got somethin' ta tell ya, I will." She was quiet for a moment. "Should that happen—not sayin' it will, sugar—maybe you'd like watchin'."

No one said a thing. I bet everyone figured out Dorius was mind-poking Betty in regards to Gibbie's façade. I felt sorry for her. A girl liked her privacy sometimes.

Christopher slapped me on the butt and returned my attention to the here and now. He pointed to the off switch on his headset; a signal that he didn't want the others to hear what he had to say.

We clicked off our headsets.

"That was an epiphany moment," Christopher said.

"Huh?" I flushed, even though I knew he couldn't have read my mind now that I was mated with Marcus.

"Come on! I can't believe you didn't get it," Christopher said. "I knew Dorius had ears AND eyes on us whenever we're around Betty, but shit, I didn't think about the earbuds in the field. If she hears us, he hears us."

Holy crap, that thought never mingled with my daydream of sweat-dampened, rock-hard, yummy chocolate abs to die for. "No wonder Dorius wanted Betty to join us—the fucker."

"Exactly," Christopher said.

"I'm going to warn the others," I said, and reached for my headset.

". . . so, Susan, how do you want to handle this?" Sonny was asking when we flipped the communication switch to the on position.

I scrunched my shoulders and stared at Christopher with an eyes-caught-in-the-headlights face. "I don't know. You got any ideas?" I asked, checking my words. I knew we'd missed something.

"Well, since there are so many," Christopher jumped in, "Susan and I thought about getting you away from the crowd. Then use Gibbie. He could change into something that shoots fire—too bad Jake hasn't shown yet—and we'll torch the area. Gonna attract the fire department, but we'll keep it contained until they get close. Earlier, when Susan and I brainstormed this plan, she reminded me it's not like the firemen are gonna see fangs on crispy critters or anything."

At least Christopher didn't try to one-up me with Dorius listening in. I shot him a warm fuzzy smile. "Anyone wanna weigh in on how we get Sonny-the-boa-constrictor away from the others without causing suspicion?" Not bad. I sounded like a team player.

"I make a very impressive dragon: sleek, black, beautiful, and deadly." A rich, deep throaty chuckle came through my earbob. "I will swoop down and assist before charring the others."

My cheeks flushed. I knew exactly who it was—Gibbie—and I know my heart would've been thumping in my chest if I wasn't dead. Damn, I wished I could see the fairy right then, and I was damn glad Dorius couldn't see me. I wondered where Marcus was, though.

I'm right here, as always, darling. I've decided to exert my ability to trust you completely.

Bullshit, fang-boy,
I pushed back
. If tall-black-and-way-beyond-beautiful were here with me right now, you'd-

This time, JoAnn popped my train of wishing, hoping, and orgasming. "About time someone grew a pair," my sister said, not sounding like herself at all. "Perfect play since they're all huddled in the field, not real close to the edge of the tree line either. So everybody get moving. Let's wrap this up. I got things to—"

"
Except
," Christopher snapped, "we need to bring home a couple of alphas. You see any, Sonny?"

I almost harrumphed in my sister's ear. Christopher was the only one who could see my snarky smile.

"He's right," I said. "Dorius expects alphas."

Sonny answered, "Yes; three, as far as I can tell."

A swift, loud snuffle/snort/cough penetrated our earbuds and then JoAnn said, "I think Sonny should lure the alphas away from the others. He can ask for a private talk with them after he tells the other to stay put. Just like on
The Sopranos
when—"

I burst out laughing. "They don't talk, idiot!"

"No, they don't," Sonny told us, "but they do understand me intuitively when I am in snake form, especially the alphas. I can do this. I have a cage hidden near the woods behind some palm fronds."

"Just ignore Suzabella." JoAnn was on a roll. "I'm on surveillance. I'll let you know when you can make that break."

"Sexy lady," Gibbie's rich, masculine voice titillated, "I'm gonna show you the fiercest little
Draco Americanus Mex
you've ever seen, feathery wings and all."

Shamefully, I would have gotten into a classic sisterly brouhaha if it weren't for tall-chocolaty-and-sexy-as-hell.

"I don't know, darlin'," Betty said. "You're plenty hot enough for me."

"You ain't seen nothin', sugar."

"I'm swooning," Betty said. "You swooning, Susan?" she asked.

I didn't know about swooning, but my granny undies were beyond damp.

* * *

As the men filed out of the metal room of the freighter, they made their way above deck, several feet ahead of the Morizzio brothers.

Marcus asked, "Why do you always have to be so cloak and dagger on these missions, Dorius?"

"Because this is what I do best—a welcome respite from dealing daily with the antics of your mate and her prepubescent sidekick."

Marcus laughed. "And I'm sure your new wife adds very little drama to your immortality."

"She serves her purpose." For the first time since leaving Miami, Dorius smiled at his brother. "Through Betty's eyes, I have a firsthand view of
your
mate
and
her reckless family of learning disabled immortals."