Necromancing Nim (21 page)

This was different. I turned toward one, then the other, taking them both in, tracing their faces with my fingers. They were beautiful in repose, though in different ways. I was beginning to get used to the temperature, the texture. Maybe I’d eventually muster the courage to touch them while they were awake.

Darkness surrounded me, but it was the dark of a night with a full moon. Or not quite full, I realized as I craned my neck to take in the star-flecked sky. The vague light fell on a broken-down house in the middle of an overgrown lot. The tall grass seemed to tug at my legs as I walked.

Something drew me, pulling me toward the ramshackle old house. At the same time, though, some part of me was withdrawn from the scene, observing it with more than a little skepticism. I mean, please. A broken-down old house in the middle of an empty lot? How lame was that?

It seemed overly real, though. Like something was happening outside the realm of an ordinary dreamscape. In fact, there was something just plain hinky about it.

Curiosity drew me on, deeper into the dream, across the gloomy courtyard toward the gloomier house. Odd sounds drifted past, like distant screaming, or maniacal laughter. It was too cheesy for words, yet I felt like I was supposed to be taking it all seriously.

The movement around me suddenly rushed forward, until, with a jolt, I was standing in front of the dilapidated house’s front door. There was a number on it, silver metal pieces tacked on the doorpost. 2136, it said, the three hanging lopsided. 2136 what? I wondered, and my body spun around to face the road. Beyond the weedy yard was a road sign, wavering in an atmospheric wind that seemed not to disturb any other element of the tableau. Winchester Terrace, it said. Pretty fancy name for the kind of road that would have a piece-of-shit house like this on it. But I noted the information, absorbed the appearance of the place. Somebody wanted me to experience this house in real life.

I felt myself starting to wake up. It was a strange sensation, like trying to struggle up out of deep water while your clothes dragged you back down. There was no panic reaction, though; I just floated with it. In the end, consciousness won, and I opened my eyes to see daylight slanting in between the blinds. An odd smell filled my nostrils, then dissipated—sour, curdly, then sickly sweet like rotting fruit. I wrinkled my nose and sat up.

Okay, so—what the hell? Dream, or something else? I had a feeling I knew. I also had a feeling Colin and Sebastian would be able to offer further enlightenment. Not for a couple of hours, though. They were still snoozing, lying on their backs on either side of me and not breathing or dreaming or doing anything other than looking dead. Creepy.

I was pretty much snoozed out, though, after the dream and the weirdness and—yuck—the smell. Plus, as pleasant as it could be lying between two not-warm guys when they were talking to you, it wasn’t nearly as fun when they were just lying there like useless corpses. So I rolled out of bed, let Rufus out and went to make coffee.

It was becoming a ritual, I realized, the coffee thing. A vestige of normality while reality mutated all around me. Vampire zombies, weird rocks, vampire whammies and immunity thereto—they could all fade into the background while I measured out beans, poured water into the reservoir, hit the button and waited for the rich odor to fill the house. Coffee made me feel like things could be okay. Especially Sumatra extra bold.

Calmed by the growing smell and the building sound of percolation, I fried an egg and put bread in the toaster. My stomach was still off-kilter, but at least I could eat again. I wondered if the vague nausea was a side effect of the stone and the water and if it would prove to be a permanent condition. Maybe I should stock up on Maalox.

Colin wandered into the kitchen just as I was finishing my breakfast. A faint sliver of daylight still lay against the western horizon, orangey-pink, and outside everything seemed to have taken on the same hue. He scratched his head blearily.

“You’re up early,” I commented wryly. His hair was rumpled, his T-shirt even more so. He wore loose cotton pants, and his feet were bare. He also seemed blissfully unaware of the erection tenting his jammies. I wasn’t. I tried not to stare, but damn. First off, I hadn’t known vampires got morning—well, evening—wood. Secondly, he was hung like a Percheron. That was…intriguing.

He grunted to acknowledge that I’d spoken to him. He scratched himself absently, still seemingly unaware of the state of affairs in his pants, and went to retrieve a mug.

I shook my head. God help me, I was stuck with him. At least for now. Strangely, it didn’t seem like such a bad thing anymore.

He poured his coffee and drank it black, wincing at the first swallow. I like my coffee good and strong. I ignored his reaction; he should have figured that out by now.

“I had a dream last night,” I ventured as he sprawled over the couch.

His mouth twitched. “About me?”

“Not really.” I heard Rufus scratching at the door and went to let him in, then settled into my good chair. “It was about an old house, run-down place…” I related the details of the dream while he perused me, sipped his coffee and finally, thank God, crossed his legs.

“It’s Pieter,” he announced when I’d finished.

“I thought as much. Is he…getting into my head?” The thought made me want to shudder, appalled at the idea, but I drew back from it, not allowing it to touch me.

“Something like that.” Colin drained his coffee mug and set it down while I shifted in my chair to accommodate Rufus, who wanted to sit with me. “At a guess, I’d say he was assuming the bite worked.”

“By turning me into a zombie?”

“Yeah. If his bite had worked on you the way it should have, he’d have considerable power over you. Not complete power like he had with Therese, but enough to plant compulsions and send you on unsavory errands. But it didn’t work.”

“Because I have whammy immunity?”

“Because of the holy water, and the stone, which healed your bite, stopped the transformation, and gave you whammy immunity, yes.”

“Same difference.” I frowned. “But he can still get into my head?”

Colin mulled that, rubbing his chin. He was stubbly; I hadn’t realized vampires had that problem either. He looked good in stubble. I had a sudden urge to chew on it.

“He obviously sent you the dream,” he said thoughtfully, “but I’m not sure he was actually in your head.”

“What do you mean?”

“He transmitted, but he didn’t influence. See, the way this would normally work is that you’d have the dream, but wouldn’t consciously remember it, but it would compel you, and you’d lead us all to this house or whatever without really knowing why, and we’d all die a horrible bloody death.”

I winced. “Ah.”

“But instead you remembered everything, and now we can make plans. We have the element of surprise on our side now.”

“What if we don’t? If he sent me the dream, maybe he could tell I wasn’t responding right.”

“It’s possible, but I’m betting he doesn’t have a clue.”

“Who doesn’t have a clue?”

This was Sebastian, also just rolled out of bed, but a bit more presentable than Colin had been. No gigantic crotchal tent, for starters.

Colin took a moment to get Sebastian up to speed, while Sebastian took a seat and scrubbed a hand over his scalp. He still looked pale to me. It seemed like he’d been off his game for too long. I found it worrisome.

“So that’s where we’re at,” Colin finally finished.

Sebastian nodded almost absently. “So we need to find this broken-down house on Winchester Court, go there and catch Pieter unawares.”

“Sounds about right.”

“Using Nim as bait.”

Colin paused, then nodded. We’d touched on this idea before, but stated boldly like that it didn’t seem like nearly as good a plan.

“Are you up for that?” Sebastian asked me

“Sure.” The word held more bravado than I felt. I laid it on even thicker. “Asshole tried to turn me.”

Colin’s mouth twitched; then he covered it with his hand. I had a feeling he found me amusing. At least he had the decency to disguise it a little.

Sebastian frowned, mulling. “It does seem like our best chance of getting him out of our way.”

“He’ll expect us soon,” I put in. “If we wait too long, he’ll get suspicious.”

“Good point.” Colin seemed ready to head out immediately, but I waylaid him.

“There’s no way this’ll work,” I protested. “The minute he sees me, he’s gonna know I’m not his vampire-zombie bitch. Probably before.”

Sebastian chuckled. “Not if you play it right. After all, you’re a freshly minted vampire-zombie bitch. You’re likely to be a bit disoriented.”

“He’ll know that?

“He should. He’s done this before.”

That made it sound easier. “So I just have to act a little disoriented?”

Colin’s mouth curled a little. “Which shouldn’t be too hard for you.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Shut up.”

He chuckled, making me feel less like bludgeoning him in the head. His eyes were almost warm.

“Fine, then,” I conceded. “Let’s get it the hell over with.”

Colin softened a bit, as if finally ready to acknowledge my nervousness was genuine and provide some sympathy. Or at least advice. “For now, just try to manage a little confusion here and there. And if he tells you to do something, do it. At least until we get there to clean his clock.”

“Clean his clock?” The phrase seemed ridiculously quaint coming from Colin, especially since in this case it probably meant something horribly violent and bloody. Colin seemed unimpressed by my opinion of his choice of words. “Can’t he control me with his mind?” I went on. “I mean, won’t he notice if he can’t?”

“Not necessarily.” Sebastian spoke softly, some reluctance coloring his tone. “If you’ve just been turned, and you’re disoriented, it’s hard to establish that kind of connection. If he can’t quite get to you, it won’t seem unusual.” Leaning back in his chair, Colin nodded and seemed about to make another comment when Gwen appeared in the hallway, wearing her customary tank top and tap pants and scratching her scalp through a bird’s nest of black hair. She still managed to be hot. I kind of hated her.

“Morning,” she mumbled, unaware of both Sebastian’s and Colin’s gaping male gazes fixing to her ample cleavage. So much for my problems. All my supposed saviors wanted now was to stare at my sister’s tits.

“What about…” I trailed off suggestively, trying to pull the boys’ attention back to the matters at hand.

“What about what?” Colin managed to force himself to acknowledge me.

“You know,” I answered, making a shape with my hand that I hoped communicated the contours of the stone. Colin stared, frowning, obviously flummoxed. At least he was paying attention to me now. It made me feel good that I could distract him from Gwen’s display of pulchritude. Sebastian switched his attention as well. Score two for me. But neither of them seemed to be able to figure out what I was talking about.

“The rock, you idiots,” I burst out finally, drawing a curious stare, complete with tilted eyebrow, from Gwen.

“What rock?” Gwen asked.

My temper flared. “The one you threw in the yard and then let Rufus bury so I had to drink holy water and almost got turned into a vampire zombie, that’s what rock.”

Gwen just blinked at me blankly, the epitome of
what the fuck?
“I didn’t let Rufus have that rock,” she finally managed.

“You put it in the pile of eggshells—which, by the way, is in no way a compost pile—and he buried it and it took us forever to find the damn thing.” In my raging brain, the whole fiasco had become her fault. “I almost died!”

Gwen turned to Colin, beseeching help and possibly protection from her obviously insane sister. “It’s not just a rock,” the vampire offered. “It’s a mystical artifact.”

“It was a rock,” Gwen protested. This time she turned to Sebastian, as if he might provide a more sensible explanation.

“Mystical artifact,” he repeated. “Makes vampires invincible. Some bad guys are after it, they almost killed your sister, we managed to pull out a win, blah blah, et cetera.”

For a long moment, Gwen was silent, eyes wide and gaping. Then she said, enunciating firmly and carefully, “You people are flipping nuts.”

“It’s true.” Sebastian’s sincerity was so unwavering the most skeptical of skeptics would have believed without question.

“And,” Colin added, his tone gone shrewd, “I think you can help us out.”

“Oh no.” I shook my head vehemently. “No. No way. Do not drag her into this.”

“She can stay here with Sebastian. We can’t take the rock with us.” Colin returned his attention to Gwen, as if there’d been no protest at all. “Don’t answer the door. Don’t let anybody in until we get back. And do whatever Sebastian tells you.”

“Why would vampires come here?” Gwen seemed to still be a couple of pages behind on the program. “I mean aside from you guys?”

“The bad guys are after the rock,” I explained, figuring small words to be the best approach. “But it’s hidden, and they won’t be able to find it. They shouldn’t even come here.” I searched for confirmation on Colin’s face.