Days Gone Bad (12 page)

Zola was one of the most well mannered people I’d ever eaten with. It all changed when the ribs came out. I gawked at the smears of barbeque sauce around her mouth and on her chin and shirt and forearms and … “Good god, are you starving?”

Her dark, wrinkled skin stretched as she smiled over a huge beef rib, bits of meat sticking out of her teeth here and there. “Mmm,” was all she said as her head jerked and she tore another strip of rib meat off the bone.

I laughed and took a deep breath. The smell of wood smoke and barbeque was intoxicating. I took a bite of potato salad and chased it with a gulp of Amber Bock. We went on in quiet, slurping, glorious overindulgence.

Zola crumpled up a wet wipe and tossed it onto a pile of bones substantial enough to impress a werewolf. “So, you’ve met an old god now, outside of your dust bunny.” She smirked.

“Aeros. Yeah, you kind of let that one slip. He seemed nice.” I shrugged.

“Aeros is one of the more benevolent old ones.” She rolled her wrist, creating a symphony of pops and cracks. “There are many more just as likely to eat you as talk to you.”

I stared at her for a moment. “You’re not joking, are you?”

She shook her head.

“Gah, I’ll stick with Aeros, thanks.”

She leaned back as her smile faded. “Ah worry where the talisman at Fort Davidson has gone.”

“Hell, I’m more worried about wherever whatever was in the talisman has gone.”

“And that is wise of you.” She took another sip of coffee and her mug clinked as she sat it down.

“Why were all those ghosts there? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Horror, terror, Ah can only guess. Ah have seen it many times before on battlefields. Fragments of souls left to await the end of the world or perhaps wait beyond it.”

 “Souls?” I said as a weight sank in my chest. “That’s why they could see me, isn’t it?”

Zola nodded and I shivered in revulsion.

“No one deserves that.”

“No, they do not.” She sighed and sipped her whiskey laced coffee. “Some say a gravemaker walks that battlefield.”

I paused and narrowed my eyes. “Gravemakers aren’t real.” I waved my hand in dismissal. “I’ve read stories in some old texts, but everyone believes that’s all they are, just stories. They’re boogeymen for vampires. They’re not real.”

“Yes, they are.” She cocked her head slightly. “Ah’ve seen them, Ah’ve fought them, and Ah’ve watched them kill. Ah wouldn’t think a small battlefield like Fort Davidson would be enough to attract one. Ah’ve only seen them in places with a death toll of tens of thousands.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” It didn’t. “Shit, Zola.” I said as a shiver ran down my spine. I couldn’t even bring myself to ask anything else about them. The stories she used to tell me when I was a kid, bloody hell, even demons stayed away from gravemakers.

“Well, are you okay to drive, boy?”

I blinked a couple times and looked up from my empty beer. “Yeah, I’ll be fine on one beer.”

“Good, Ah’m anxious to get back.”

I pulled out my wallet to pay and asked, “Alright, where to?”

“Ah would like to speak with Sam’s Pit. You can drop me off there as Ah doubt they’ll take issue with giving me room and board.”

“No fear in a house full of vamps, huh?” I laughed.

“A smart vampire fears the old necromancers,” she said as a grin crept over her face.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I dropped Zola off before I went home. Vik answered the door for her between the pillars of the front porch. A broad smile was etched across his pale skin as he pulled her inside with an arm around her shoulders. Sam must have talked Zola up pretty well over the years. Vik wasn’t exactly the bubbly smiling type. His mostly stoic expression only recently began softening around me, and I’d known him for years now. I waved from the street and went on my merry way.

I passed several grocery stores on the trek home, knowing I needed to stop for breakfast foods or I’d be pissed at myself in the morning. No store was able to distract me from my all-important goal of getting home and sleeping until I was finally lured in by a two for one Frappuccino sale at Walgreens. Two for one!

Twelve minutes later I emerged from the fluorescent oasis armed with twelve Frappuccinos and four frozen breakfast burritos. I knew I’d be able to love myself in the morning, so I finished the journey home.

The little red light was blinking on my answering machine when I walked in and dropped my keys on the narrow table beside it. I hit the button and was happy to hear Samir’s voice.

“Vesik. Samir. Your car, it is done. Come pick it up tomorrow after nine.” He laughed a bit on the recording. “What am I saying? Just pick it up when you are awake.”

 I smiled and deleted the message. The tires had come in and Vicky was ready to go. After that bit of good news I sat down on the couch, watched some Discovery Channel, and eventually enjoyed a solid four hours of sleep.

***

My alarm clock met a bloody end when it went off at seven the next morning. I waved my hand at it with a half open eye and mumbled,
“Incidatto.”
A blade of ley line energy slashed it into two sparking piles of rubble. I smiled and unplugged the power cord. My smile drooped a little when I noticed the huge gash I’d just put in the end table. “Dammit.”

I donned an Army of Darkness t-shirt and then my jeans with a one-legged hop on the way to the kitchen. I left two and a half minutes later with a freshly microwaved breakfast burrito and Frappuccinos in hand. It’s never good to owe your vampire sister too many favors, so I was off to get Vicky back on my own. The burrito was gone before I even climbed in the rental to leave.

It was a thirty-minute drive to the shop in Saturday traffic, accompanied by the occasional burst of whistling from the hole in the SUV. Of course, there were repair shops closer to me, but I trusted the crew at Samir’s. The small podium outside the front glass window was actually staffed by the rental company that day. Samir had a stroke of genius when he partnered with them and offered rentals on his own parking lot. The weather was getting hot, but the skies were beautiful, crisp blue with a handful of clouds.

I parked to the right of the podium and the attendant’s eyes widened as he saw the side of the car. He straightened the tie on his suit and crouched down to look a little closer, his scalp showing through short-cropped blond hair. I slammed the door and smiled, dropping the keys into the man’s hand.

“What the hell happened?”

I shrugged, “Not sure. I came out of the movies and it was like that.”

“Jesus.”

“Glad I bought the insurance.”

The attendant blinked at me and ran his fingers over the tablet computer in his hand. “Yes, yes you did.” He deflated at this new and terrible knowledge. “Sign here.”

He handed me a stylus and I signed.

“Thanks,” I said.

He only nodded as I walked toward the front doors. Samir himself was working the front counter when I walked in off the hot and somewhat pungent blacktop. He glanced up and smiled, putting his pen down. The day Samir stopped using pen and paper would be the day the world would end.

“Vesik, my friend, welcome, welcome.” His accent was thick but I never had a problem understanding him.

“Hey Samir,” I said as I shook his hand. “How’s the car doing?”

“Good, good, four new whitewalls, no extra charge.”

I raised my eyebrows. “And the catch is?”

“No catch, you’re my best customer, enjoy them. I’ll have James bring your car around.”

I paid Samir, after a gratuitous round of thank-yous, and left the shop several hundred dollars lighter. I stared at my wallet and muttered to myself. “Ow. Off to the tux shop for more damage.” The rental clerk was already pulling the Blazer into the body shop. I tried not to laugh.

James pulled Vicky around the corner; the deep rumble filling a musical void I hadn’t even realized was there. My lips pulled up at the sight. With four fat white walls on Vicky, the financial damage didn’t seem so unbearable. James gave me a nod as he got out and headed back into the shop.

I ran my fingers around the steering wheel and put Vicky in gear. The trip down Manchester Road wasn’t too bad for a Saturday. I think I may have even hit twenty-five a few times. It was always surprising how much smoother a ’32 rode with thick new tires. Of course, having the suspension gutted by Frank’s friend when he rebuilt it probably didn’t hurt either. He’d introduced me to Samir as someone who loved to work on older cars and hot rods. I was thankful for his advice about Samir, but I couldn’t even remember the guy’s name. James, Jason, Jackson? I’d have to ask Frank sometime.

Parking was tight so I headed up to the top of the West County Mall parking garage. There generally weren’t many people on the roof, unless it was the holidays. I’d highly recommend staying the hell away from
any
mall during the holidays, but West County always seemed worse than most.

It was a short walk to the tux shop. Auntie Anne’s was flooding the area with the enticing smell of fresh pretzels. My willpower wavered but held out as I walked by and entered the tux shop.

I stood ever so patiently in front of the counter waiting for the salesman to hang up the phone. I know, it’s shocking, but I really didn’t care if he got so smashed he ‘couldn’t remember anything past the first five minutes of the movie last night.’ He hung up the phone a few minutes later. Customer service is dead.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes!” I said as I raised my eyebrows and pointed my finger at him with what I’m sure was an insane grin.

He jumped so bad he almost fell off his stool. It made me smile.

“I have a tux reserved for Vesik.”

The salesman nodded and continually shifted his eyes toward me in quick glances as he flipped through a little box of index cards. Index cards? Who the hell doesn’t use a computer to run their shop these days? He pulled out a card, scanned it on the computer I hadn’t noticed before, and headed into the back. A minute later, he came up with a black bag filled with my torture device.

“You’ll need to try this on before you go.”

“Ah, no,” I said as I squinted at his nametag, “Bobby, I don’t think so. I’m in a hurry.” His smile fell.

“My name is Robert.” He tapped his fingernail on the nametag.

I just smiled and blinked a few times.

His voice turned into a thin, plastic replica of its former glory, “Well, sir, I apologize, but it is store policy. You try the tuxedo on, or you don’t take it with you. I can call the manager if you’d like, but he’s out to lunch for the next twenty minutes.”

I guess I deserved that, but still. “Well, since you’re such a charmer, Bobby, and gave me such prompt attention.” I grabbed the tux and headed to the fitting rooms. Had I stayed with Bobby much longer, I may have tried pulling his skull out through his scraggly red hair.

I let out a slow chuckle as I closed the fitting room door before catching my reflection for the first time all day. With the t-shirt, pale skin, circles under my eyes, and rat’s nest of black hair, I looked like the poster child for Old Gothic People Incorporated. I sighed, hung the tux up on the wall hook, and stripped.

The scars on my chest pulled my eyes back to the mirror. I touched the diagonal line of four slashes from a vampire that ripped across my left bicep, carried over to my chest, and down to my navel. Rough skin adorned my right shoulder, where I’d been caught off guard by a pyromaniac blood magus. Some people don’t like bartering. I sighed and ran my fingers across the scars on my wrist from Sam’s first night as a vampire. I shook my head to clear it and started pulling on my fancy wear.

Sam had ordered the tux for me and it fit like a glove. After strapping all the pieces on, I couldn’t help but laugh. I think she was trying to torture Beth. I wasn’t scrawny, but I was by no means an Adonis. The tux accented my already broad shoulders and the jacket cut down in a loose V to accent my waist. The rest just worked.

I’ve had a lot people compliment my eyes over the years, usually noting their color. Almost everyone thinks they’re blue gray, but they are actually the pale gray of a born necromancer. I’d groaned when Sam added a shiny gray vest, but I must admit, it made my eyes stand out like bloody gemstones. “Not bad, Sam, not bad.” I ran my fingers down the lapels and grinned.

I modeled the tux for Bobby, who shook his head and waved me off. I changed back into my Army of Darkness getup.

Bobby eyed me from head to toe and said, “You should really purchase the tuxedo insurance, sir.”

“Really, Bobby?”

“It may be a little expensive for someone of your, well …” he paused for a moment. “It covers all incidental damages.” He picked up a pair of scissors and continued his sales pitch in a drop dead monotone voice. “It’s only seventy-five dollars, and even if you take these scissors and cut a sleeve off right now, we won’t charge you.”

I nodded and signed off on the tux bill. Oh, hell yes, I bought the seventy-five dollar insurance. I was tempted not to buy it just because the jackass salesman was offering it, but I’d lost too many clothes over the years to worry about having to pay for a whole freaking tux. It was right about then I realized I’d left the wedding present at my shop.

“Fuck!” I slammed the pen down on the counter and turned toward the door.

My exclamation garnered a few nasty glares from the mothers in the area. Bobby was already on a personal call again by the time I walked through the door. I stepped back into the thick smell of fresh pretzels and my frustration managed to dismiss what little willpower I had left. I climbed back into Vicky with two cinnamon pretzels in tow and hauled ass back to Death’s Door.

***

I stopped dead in my tracks when I found Cara on the counter talking to Frank. Not threatening him or throwing him across the room, or even giving him a nasty glare. I took a huge bite of pretzel on the way in and said, “This one’s for you, Mom.”

She looked up and smiled. Her wings fluttered in silence as she said, “Ah, cinnamon. Would you like half, Frank?”