Chapter Twenty-five

Before leaving the Deli Delight, I phoned Elena to ask about the Blood Center. I breathed a sigh of relief when she told me Bo had sent Stark there. Stark could keep an eye on things until either the Ancient One’s ringers came to relieve him or we figured out how Ruthie thought he was getting the blood out. Then, because none of us could guess why the Ruthiettes wanted to be opening band, Julian and I decided we might as well finish our rounds. Five of Ruthven’s lieutenants were accounted for. But that left a whole lot of Nosferatu’s hench mutants to cause trouble.

We got to the beer tent, where we met yet another disaster.

People were weaving around the tent, glasses, bottles, and cans in hand. Already drinking. I gaped in horror. “The festival’s not open until four thirty!”

“Apparently they don’t know that,” Julian said.

“We’ve got to stop them!”

A tourist, carrying a tray laden with two pitchers of beer and six glasses, passed. Julian tried to pluck the tray from him. Despite Julian’s lightning-fast vampire reflexes, the tourist was faster, jerking away and running. He growled as he escaped, a hunter protecting his kill.

Julian shook his head. “I don’t think we’re going to be able to stop them by ourselves. We’ll need help. Who’s the protector assigned to the beer tent?”

“One of the fill-in fangs.” Like the cheese tasting, this was one of the events guarded by a ringer. Sent by the “Ancient One”, whoever that was. Someone in Iowa, which left out George Carlin. Yes, I knew he was dead. That was the whole point to being a vampire, right?

“They won’t be here until sunset. Four thirty, at the earliest. Who’s the chairperson?”

“Daisy Mae Sattel. But this isn’t her work.” My mouth set in a grim line, and I put hands on hips. Knuckles smacked skin; I was wearing superlow skinny jeans with spike heels and spangled sports bra.

“No?”

“No. Donner and Blitz, Meiers Corners’s town crunks, have been at it again.”

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” Julian said. Not “I’ve never met them” or “whozat”. Which just shows you can sleep with a man/vampire for literally days and still be surprised by him. Who said a marriage has to be boring?

No, no, no. I did not just think that.

“Nixie? Why are you hitting yourself on the head?”

“Uh, no reason. Look, we’ve got to find them. Can you do your supernatural senses thing? Sniff them out?”

“I’m not sure locating those two would be the best solution, if crunk means sloppy drunk. Far from being helpful, wouldn’t they cause more trouble?”

“Oh, no. If ever there were such a thing as gentlemen drunks, Donner and Blitz are it. They’re responsible drunks.” At Julian’s frankly skeptical stare, I added, “No, really. I can prove it. The bartender at Nieman’s didn’t want to serve me beer with the rest of the Common Council after meetings. But they talked him into it.”

“How old were you?”

“Well…fifteen. But I suffered through those meetings, same as the grownups. It was only fair.”

“You don’t know everything at fifteen.” Julian shook his head, obviously not agreeing with me that this nominated Donner and Blitz for responsibility. “What do they look like?”

“Like a perfectly matched carriage set. Donner’s the horse and Blitz is the carriage. As polite as eighteenth century vicars—and a touch more mellow.”

“Well, I don’t see—Nixie, look out!”

I hit defensive stance, expecting fangs and claws. I also expected Julian getting all pushing-me-behind-him overprotective. But to my surprise he just stood there. That stunned me so much that I didn’t see the kid until he bear-hugged me, picking me up and twirling me until I almost puked.

I looked down. Holding me was a skinny, pimply teenager. He gave me a big sloppy kiss. “You’re cute!” he burbled, grinning like a maniac. “Are you a freshman?”

I gaped. Who was this little creep? “Put me down!”

He hugged me and continued to bubble. “I’m in high school too. I like your curly yellow hair. It looks like a doll’s.”

“I am not a doll! And I’m not in high school! And put me down!”

He giggled. “What’s your name? I bet you’re Barbie. My name’s Bill. Like Bill Gates, the Alpha and Omega of computers. Did you know that’s why you click on ‘Start’ to shut down?”

“Your name will be Dead if you don’t put me down!”

That apparently did it. He finally set me down. I took a deep breath, winding up for a good lecture. Just as I opened my mouth he planted another big sloppy on me. I stood there, completely speechless. Julian was also apparently dumbfounded.

The kid’s power of speech was unfortunately fine. “Are you in middle school then? I’m a junior in high school. You’re cute,” he repeated happily. “Do you know why computers get Halloween and Christmas confused?”

“Now listen here—”

“Because October thirty-first equals December twenty-fifth!” The kid guffawed like a maniac, actually slapping his leg. “Get it? Thirty-one in base ten is the same as twenty-five in base twelve!” As the kid’s chortles disintegrated into hiccups, I rolled my eyes at Julian, who returned my look with sympathy.

“You’re drunk! How old are you? Where are your parents?” I demanded, for once almost sympathizing with my mother. “Do they know what you’re doing?”

“Ms. Meier knows,” the kid said with a hiccup. “She’s our advisor.”

I slapped my skull. The mayor’s sister, advisor to the twenty little geeks I’d foisted off on my mom. Only the geeks weren’t so little—and at least one was definitely drunk.

“I don’t believe you. I can’t believe a respectable matron would introduce you to alcohol!”

“She didn’t,” the kid said, hiccups increasing. “Mr. Donner did.”

Didn’t that just figure.

“Ms. Meier only bought the second pitcher.”

“What!?”

“Well, gotta go. We’re going to see the bands later. You’re cute!” The kid ran off, weaving a little.

“I’m doomed.”

“It’s all right.” Julian pulled me tight, caressed my hair.

“No, it isn’t! Do you have any idea how much the insurance deductible is for this gig if we have to make a claim? What kind of crappy parents do these little hoodlums have? Can’t they control their own kids?” My mouth dropped open in horror. “I cannot believe I just said that.” I stared at Julian. “Did you change me?”

He shrugged, making his pecs jump nicely. “If I did, it was Newtonian.”

“Newton…oh. The apple-dropping guy.”

“Newton didn’t drop the apple.”

“Yeah, I know. The tree did.”

“Actually, I did. To get back at him for the time he dumped a bucket of ice water on my head.”

“I do not want to hear this. Leave dead dry guys alone. The idea of Sir Isaac playing tricks is just wrong.” I narrowed my eyes. “I thought you said you emigrated by 1625.”

“I went back for a little visit in the 1680s.”

“Sure you did. I suppose you helped Newton develop calculus, too.”

“Of course not.” Julian looked a little offended. “That was twenty years earlier.”

I shook my head. “No. This is wrong on so many levels.”

“All I’m trying to say is that if I had an effect on you, you had an equal and opposite effect on me.” Julian pointed to the earring.

As yummy as a chocolate chip in a cookie. And even more distracting. I smacked my lips.

Julian smiled. “Come on. Let’s check out the rest of the venues. Maybe it’ll give us a clue as to why Billy the Kid’s band wants to go first.” He took my elbow and started to lead me out.

“But the drunk little geeks—”

“Will be fine. Ms. Meier and Donner and Blitz are with them.”

“Oh, good. That’s so reassuring. Dante and Randal, minding the store.”

Julian cocked a questioning eyebrow at me. “Was that a pop culture reference? Some sort of television show?”

I let him guide me. I was starting to like the feel of his square, competent fingers on my arm. “Movie. Say, want to play Scene It? I’d whomp you.”