MisStaked (13 page)

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Authors: J. Morgan

BOOK: MisStaked
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With sleep far behind him Breathred got up. Scratching those parts that needed scratching, he headed toward the bathroom. Maybe a shower would heal his aching head. Lord knows, it couldn't hurt.

He eased the door shut behind him, not wanting to wake his friends. Breathred winced at the ghost that greeted him in the mirror. One should never look at oneself, until after nine o'clock. Reflections did funny things to a person before that all-important hour.

Hastily averting his eyes, Breathred shambled over to the commode. This was the tricky part of his morning regime. Normally, it was the easiest, but not today. With Luna in the next room those parts usually operating at peak efficiency rebelled.

He couldn't blame them. There was a girl in the next room—not just any girl, but
the
girl. In his mind he knew she, too, had bodily functions she tended to. She busted in on him enough to know it to be bona fide fact, but Breathred didn't want her to know he did those functions, as well. Somehow it pained his sensibilities for her to know those intimate things about him.

At the point of bursting, he reached over and turned on the shower. Hopefully the sound would camouflage whatever his body might toss out. Once relieved of at least one bodily burden, he turned his attention to a quick shower.

Ten minutes of steam did much to clear his mind. The pounding had reduced itself to a dull throb. He could deal with a throb. His mind again focused, he saw his way through the day. The slamming of the basement door ended his moment of clarity. Draping the towel over his nude chest, he exploded through the bathroom door. Visions of day-walkers and zombies filled his fractured brain. Instead a sight worse than his worst nightmare awaited him.

His father, sans shirt—like a shirt could contain those raging man-breasts in the first place—stood at the bottom of the stairs. The remains of powered donuts freckled his chin and chest hair. A look of bemused spite sat upon his face, like a stale pickle. Upon seeing Breathred, the look turned ugly.

"Boy, am I blind or is that a girl in your bed?” His father asked loud enough to scare Stud from his sleep.

"Yes, sir,” Breathred mumbled meekly.

"Shit fire, and save the matches. Thank God, I was beginning to think I had a fruit roll-up for a son,” R.J. howled.

"Dad, it's not what you think."

"She's with the monkey? Don't tell me she's with the monkey. If you tell me she's with the monkey, I may have to shoot you myself."

"No, I'm all Breathy's, Big Daddy,” Luna unrolled herself from the bed.

R.J. raised an eyebrow. She looked normal, but looks could be deceiving. He let his eyes stay on her for a little bit longer. She was a man. She had to be. No, those were definitely breasts. At least they looked like breasts. These days you couldn't be too careful, what with all them transcombobulators, running around.

Short of asking outright, he wasn't going to be sure. The best thing to do was run upstairs and send the old lady down to ask. Damned if he would. What if the whatsit said she was one?

He would hide in his bedroom until she, or it whatever the case may be, left. Then, he would change all the locks. His idiot son could go live with his ex-wife. She was crazy as a Bessie bug, anyway. Let her deal with their son and his whatsit. Thirty-five years of dealing with him was quite enough for R.J. It was her turn. With any luck he'd be dead before she kicked Breathred out.

"Look, I gotta go,” R.J. said, twisting to mount the stairs.

"Dad, did you want anything?” Breathred asked. His father never came down here, so for him to be here something had to provoke it.

"Ah, yeah. There's another one upstairs,” his father yelled from the top of the stairs.

"Another what?"

"Another whatsit. I mean another woman,” R.J. slammed the basement door shut.

"Would you like to explain to me why there's a woman upstairs?” Luna asked in a feral growl.

"Yeah, Muttly. Is there something you need to tell us?” Stud piped in, as he plopped himself in Luna's lap.

A rapping on the basement door saved him. He'd hoped the noise would distract them from him. The looks on their faces told him no such luck. With twin sets of eyes boring into him, Breathred beat a hasty retreat to the safety of the basement door.

Breathred opened the door, half hoping for a creature of the undead to end his soon-to-be suffering. It wasn't a vampire waiting on the other side of the door, but his visitor did end his suffering.

"Mr. Petrifunck, I'm sorry to disturb you at home, but I couldn't get hold of Ms. Walking Batch, and you weren't answering your phone.” Professor Grayson poked her head through the door. “I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time."

"No, please come in,” Breathred said, swinging the door wide so she could enter.

"Your father is quite the character. Do you know why he would have that girl ask me if I was a whatsit?” She squeezed past him.

"No, I wouldn't.” Breathred shot a stinging look back toward the door, as he started down after her. That old man was just asking to be put in a home.

"Oh, Ms. Walking Batch,” Dr. Grayson said, when she caught sight of the girl. She turned to Breathred. “Are you sure I didn't come at an inopportune moment?"

"No, ma'am. It's not what you think.” Breathred blushed.

Her eye brow rose up her forehead. “Frankly, it does look like what I think."

"No, it's the truth; we were attacked by vampires at the mall last night. Breathred thought it best if we all stayed in one place in case they came after us,” Luna said, the look on her face saying she didn't like the conclusion the professor jumping to.

"My word! You don't think it's because of the dig, do you?” Dr. Grayson asked, shocked by the news. Really, she couldn't believe she was in a stranger's basement actually discussing vampires as if she was discussing the evening news.

"You bet your ass it was, Sweetcakes,” Stud said before anyone could stop him.

"It is rather suspicious they chose to attack us right after you hired us.” Breathred let the implications hang in the air.

Grayson seemed confused by his statement. “But only you and I know you're even a part of the team."

"Someone had to give the okay for us to be added to the team. It could mean someone in the main office could have leaked the information. From there any number of people could have found out,” Luna theorized.

"I guess you're right,” the professor responded. “Which might help explain the reason I dropped by."

"Do you want to clarify that for us,” Stud snorted, untangling himself from Luna.

"I received a letter from the man funding the dig late last night. It seems a snafu in his office resulted in an error in our departure time. Instead of leaving on Monday, we are leaving on Sunday."

"But how does that connect to the vampires from last night?” Breathred pondered aloud.

"If I hadn't verified the information myself over a month ago, I'd say nothing. Something fishy is going on here,” Grayson stated.

"Do you think the guy funding this is in league with the vamps?” Stud stopped scratching his ass to ask.

"I don't know what to think, but I can't dismiss the possibility.” She didn't know how to answer the question. A week ago she wouldn't have even considered the possibility, but now she just wasn't sure of what she believed.

"Then, as far as I'm concerned this trip is over. Cancel my reservation, ‘cause this chimp's momma didn't raise no fools.” Stud pushed past the professor in a huff.

"Stop it right there, King Dong.” Luna grabbed him by the back of his shirt. “If the vamps are behind this, it's even more important for us to go."

"How do you figure that?” Stud tried to pry her fingers loose.

"Because if the vampires know about the tablet. That means they know about the Mother. We can't let them reawaken her. That's why we are going to do just what we said we were going to do,” Breathred said, bringing them all to silence.

"He's right,” Luna said.

"Of course he is. Don't expect it to make me feel any better about it,” Stud said. He stopped struggling.

Dr. Grayson obviously didn't like the way this conversation was headed. “So, what are we going to do, now?"

"Just what I said we were going to do. We have the most dangerous weapon of all in our hands—knowledge. We know they're onto us, but do they know that we know? I don't think so,” Breathred answered.

"This is just too unbelievable. How do expect me to act normal with all this rolling around in my head?"

"You have to otherwise they'll know we're on to them. The only chance we've got is to keep them in the dark for as long as we can, so we can have time to figure all this out. Can you do this, doctor?” Breathred asked, wanting to see how far the doctor was willing to go to see this through.

"When you put it like that, I have to, don't I?"

"We all have to. If anyone here doesn't have the stuff to do that, say so now,” Breathred said, turning to Stud and Luna. He wanted them to understand just how serious this truly was. “Because, if you can't, then you need to stay in Seattle."

They all turned to him. The face that greeted them was far from the giddy schoolboy they were used to seeing. Breathred's face was cold and hard. No trace of give was painted in the lines weathering his face. He looked older and wiser for some reason. It was almost like there was an entirely different person staring out at them from the face they all knew so well.

"I'm coming,” Luna said without an ounce of fear.

"Count me in too. Can't have you two lovebirds spooning when there's work to be done.” Stud smirked.

Breathred looked her square in the eye. “Doctor Grayson?"

"I started this, so count me in. What's the worst that can happen?"

"We can all die,” Stud shot before he thought about it.

"No, that's not the worst,” Breathred said ominously.

All three looked at him. It took them a minute to figure out what he was talking about. When they finally did, three sets of hands went reflexively to their necks. Leaving them to their thoughts, Breathred went into the bathroom. He noticed all he had on was a pair of tighty-whities and a hand towel. Somehow, he didn't think his almost nudity was the proper attire for mixed company.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Twelve

I don't want to discourage any of you future slayers, but most insurance companies refuse to pay death benefits to those in our profession.

Before leaving, Dr. Grayson had one more bomb to drop on the friends. The faculty mixer had been moved up to tonight. The trio's already frazzled nerves were in no way prepared to deal with the hazards of meeting potential vamp sympathizers in a social setting. The volatility of the situation was not lost on any of them, Breathred most of all. Just thinking about Stud around normal people was enough to send him running back to his basement for good.

With little else to do but muddle through it, they set about making plans. Breathred and Stud would gather as much knowledge as they could over the course of the day. Research was the best way to help them recognize any sign of either infected team members or vampires who might be lurking on the fringe of the group.

Luna, on the other hand, would get a list from Dr. Grayson of those attending the meeting, right down to the janitors cleaning up afterward. Then, she would use her contacts in the computer lab to do background checks on each and every one of them. All the way back to their grandmothers’ baby-sitters, if need be.

When they finished their assignments, they'd meet back up at the Jumper an hour before the meeting. With Edith as their unofficial fourth Beatle, they would then make a plan of attack. Breathred figured Edith was far enough removed from the situation she should be able to give them the insight they might have overlooked. At least he hoped so.

With a plan firmly in place, Luna headed out. This was the only part of the plan Breathred had a problem with. Luna was going to be the most open to attack. While it didn't worry her, it worried Breathred. Even though it was his plan, he had to fight the urge to tell her to stay. The only thing stopping him was the fact he knew little to nothing about the college. Despite his reservations, she was the only person for the job.

Breathred threw himself into the stacks of books that sat on his shelves. Stud started on his own investigations using the internet. After two hours of futile searching they had all but decided that it was impossible. Every single passage they read all basically said the exact same thing—vampires inherently revealed themselves before the need for such a device was required.

To Breathred, that smacked of lazy research by somebody. The time to strike was before the undead got a foothold in your community. If you waited for them to reveal themselves it only meant somebody wasn't doing their job.

In the end, Breathred decided to improvise. Combining all the elements vampires were (for lack of a better term) allergic to, Breathred came up with a concoction he hoped would put a crimp in a vamp's digestive system. He began by using a dollop of silver nitrate, a healthy dose of garlic concentrate and a generous amount of holy water, just to be on the safe side. He came up with a cocktail when mixed with whatever punch they were serving should indicate if there was a vampire present and prove non-fatal to normal humans.

Breathred had his doubts the makeshift Mickey would work, but Stud seemed satisfied, which startled him. For the chimp to think it would work, gave Breathred a peace of mind he hadn't enjoyed since this whole mess started.

* * * *

Luna had a lot to think about after she left Breathred's place, the problem at hand being the least of it. The truth was she never intended to rope Breathred into a relationship. It just sort of happened. Not complaining, mind you. She had known it would happen sooner or later. The fact it had happened this quickly was what her confused.

She had to wonder if he would have come to that particular decision on his own. It might have taken a few years, but Luna was sure Breathy would have come to accept the inevitable. Now things were strained. Neither of them needed the complication right now.

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