Chapter Thirty

In the storage room the fight was going hot and heavy. Three ringers and Julian were pitted against a dozen vampires. Though Julian was holding his own, the ringers looked a little the worse for wear. “Well,” said Logan, gold-flecked eyes bright on the ruckus. “This ought to be entertaining.”

“A little less talking,” Julian bellowed as he swiped his foot-long blade through a vampire’s neck, “and a little more helping, if you please.”

“If you’re sure,” Logan said. “I would hate to spoil your fun.”

“Don’t hesitate on my account, Steel.” Julian caught the falling body, dug out the heart with a quick efficiency that looked more like he was pitting a cherry. Dropping the body, he lobbed the heart into the wall. “There’s more than enough to go around.” The heart went splat. I felt sick again.

“You’re doing quite nicely without me, though,” Logan said. “I don’t want to interfere if—hey!”

Enough was enough. I pushed him. “Get the fuck in there and fight.”

To my surprise, Logan laughed. “Oh, you’ll have your hands full with this one, Emerson.” He caught the neck of a passing vampire, spun the vamp to face him.

The vampire’s eyes opened wide. “Steel? Oh, shit no, not Steel!”

“Hello. And good-bye!” Faster than I could follow, Logan’s arm moved. More blood, ick. And when the body fell, there was an alarming hole in its chest.

“Nice work,” Julian said.

“Well, ya gotta have heart.” Logan tossed something red and muscley in the air like a ball and grinned.

I groaned.

“Huh. No sense of humor,” Logan said to Julian with a toss of his blond head at me. “Now why am I not surprised?”

One of the ringers passed by, retreating from two of Ruthven’s gang. “Hey,” Logan called. “No fair herding. This is Illinois, not Wisconsin or Texas. You can’t steer around here. Leather you want to or not.” He tapped one of the gang on the shoulder. The vampire whirled, eyes red, fangs extended. “You don’t cow me.” Logan’s dagger flashed out and bit deep into the rogue’s neck.

I stood in the doorway and covered my eyes. I wasn’t sure if I was more appalled at the destruction or the puns.

With both Julian and Logan fighting, the tide turned. Soon there were only two of Ruthven’s vampires left standing. Both were from the Billy the Kid band, the keyboard player and the mullet.

Two Ruthiettes, and five of our guys. Julian, Logan, and the three ringers stalked slowly forward.

The keyboard player took one look and quit fighting, his hands held high in the air. “I give! Please don’t slice off my head.”

But Mullet guy, standing near the blood refrigeration units shouted “Coward!”

And pulled out a big red button.

Uh-oh. I had seen enough movies to know a Big Red Button was never a good thing.

“One step closer and the blood’s had it!” Mullet guy squealed.

Logan stowed rapier and dagger and leaned lazily against one wall. “Can you be any more trite?”

“The threat is real,” Julian cautioned.

“Yeah, but could Razor be any cornier? ‘One step closer and the blood’s had it.’ What kind of self-respecting villain uses such hackneyed dialog?”

Razor? What was it with these guys? Stupid-Name-of-the-Month Club?

Julian shook his head. “Whatever he says, Logan, we can’t take chances.”

“Listen to Emerson.” Razor backed toward the office doorway. “After all, he’s the smart one.”

“I think I’ve just been insulted.” Logan clapped both hands to his heart.

Ignoring him, Julian said to mullet guy, “I’m smart enough to know that button has only a limited range. How far do you think you’ll get, Razor?”

In a flash, Razor reached out. Grabbed me. Winched me in, held me tight against his body. “Far enough.”

I huffed a disgusted breath. “I can’t believe I fell for that.”

“Nixie!” Julian’s nostrils flared and his eyes were instantly red. “If you hurt her, Razor, I will tear you in pieces.”

“I won’t hurt her—if she behaves.” Razor continued backing toward the doorway, forcing me with him. “This time. But you won’t always be here, Emerson.” He cackled. “Or you, Steel. Or your precious Ancient One or any of his oh-so-wonderful lieutenants.”

“Bo will be here.” Julian was obviously holding himself in check only with the greatest difficulty. “And his lieutenants are every bit as well-trained.”

I wondered about that. Bo had Steve and Thorvald. There was also Stark of Stark and Moss Funeral Home, but he kept pretty much to himself. Dru, too, but as far as I knew, that was the entire permanent vampire population of Meiers Corners.

While Razor and the rest of Ruthven’s shorties lived less than an hour away in Chicago.

Well. Looked like I was going to have to learn to save myself.

I still had the pencil. While it probably wouldn’t do much good as a stake, it was quite pointy. Driven through a body part, it would still hurt like hell.

The particular body part I had in mind was Razor’s Big-Red-Button hand. I’d learned enough to know I couldn’t go for it directly. In a straight speed and reflex contest, a vampire would win, every time.

But I’d learned from fighting Mr. Miyagi in my black belt classes that old age and treachery win against youth and agility. So, mix those up, sort of, and you get human treachery winning against vampire agility. I hoped.

I feinted, twisting in Razor’s grip like I was going to pull away. In reality I was getting my pencil hand free. When he followed and tightened his arm around me like a vise, I let him. I’d gotten what I wanted.

A free stab.

The sharp pencil went satisfyingly deep. I felt a gasp. Razor emitted such a high-pitched squeal I thought he’d shape-shifted into a pig.

Julian peeled Razor off me in an instant, while Logan caught the button that fell from his injured hand.

“She…she stabbed me!” Razor gasped in disbelief.

“So she did.” Wrapping me in his arms, Julian’s tone was a mixture of relief and pride. “My Nixie can take care of herself, and you’d better not forget it.”

My Nixie? Face sheltered in Julian’s yummy abs, I wondered when I had become his Nixie. I also wondered at the burst of pleasure I felt hearing that. Hadn’t I already established I was only his Nixie as long as he was in Meiers Corners? Once he went back to Boston, he would become his tight-ass lawyerly Emerson again.

And I would go back to being my own punk and lonely Nixie.

The pain of that made me suddenly want to do something, anything, to make him stay. To be my Julian. To be his Nixie, maybe forever.

Oh, fuck. I was in love with the jerk.

“Nixie?” Elena’s voice, from the front door. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” I told her wearily, turning away from the beguiling, silky warmth of Julian’s skin. “As is the Blood Center.”

Hitching her SMAW on her shoulder, Elena came through the door. Behind her hovered her husband Bo, fanged and ready. “What’s going on?” he asked. “I only got part of the story.”

Julian released me. “Ruthven’s lieutenants were going to highjack the shipment of blood through a tunnel. They must have been here for some time, digging from the Roller-Blayd warehouse into the Blood Center.”

I said, “But the festival put a crimp in their plans. Especially having all those people listening to bands in the Roller-Blayd factory.”

“That’s why they wanted to play first,” Julian said. “To drive everyone from the warehouse.”

“So no one would see them bringing up the blood,” Elena said.

“Exactly. When we foiled that, they tried to blow up the evidence. Nixie saved the day.”

“Nixie?” Elena looked startled.

“My Nixie.” Julian pulled me tight.

“Your Nixie?”

“His Nixie,” Logan said helpfully.

“Well,” said Bo to no one in particular. “That explains the state of the limo.”

I blushed. “Okay, okay!” I pulled away from Julian’s possessive arms. “But we’ve got a festival to protect, people! Let’s get organized. Ruthie’s minions are taken care of, but they’re not the only Lestats in Meiers Corners! And Ruthie’s not the only member of the Coterie interested in us. Because while we’ve been dealing with the Ruthiettes—”

Behind me, Julian sucked in his breath. I have to say, the boy is quick on the uptake. “Nosferatu.”

“Exactly. So let’s get going, guys and gals. Logan—you keep the ringers here to guard the blood. Elena, Bo, Julian…let’s hope it’s not as bad as I think it’ll be.”

While we were dealing with the Ruthiettes, Nosy’s Lestats had free run. I bolted out of the Blood Center, afraid of the havoc they might already have wreaked.

“Oh, shit, there’s a couple vampires.” Bo pointed to the Deli Delight. “Four more.” In front of the Fudgy Delight.

We ran down Fifth. “Three over there.” Julian indicated Nieman’s Bar. “And I smell at least half a dozen in the beer tent.”

Nosy’s lieutenants were everywhere. Like cockroaches. Spread out all over the four blocks of the festival.

How would we stop them? Especially, how could we stop them without scaring away the tourists?

Rounding a corner, we saw Cutter and his three leathercoats—headed directly for us.

Well. Stop these four, first. Worry about scaring tourists later.

Bo and Julian tensed, eyes going fighting violet. Elena unhooked her SMAW. She looked discreetly around her, realized she couldn’t blow up Lestats without torching a couple handfuls of tourists. Put the SMAW back with a grimace.

Cutter and his gang were fangy and snarling. Red-eyed and clawed.

But people passed them fearlessly. Some of the tourists even waved and called out good-natured ribald comments. Huh. Maybe they thought fangs and claws were festival costumes.

As the Lestats got closer, though, I realized something odd.

That wasn’t snarling.

They were singing. Poorly and off-key, but singing nonetheless. They sounded amazingly like the drunken teenage geeks.

And as the Nosy Quartet reeled up, a smell of beer and brats washed over me. “Hello, pretty lady,” Cutter called to me. “Hello, pretty lady with the bazooka,” he said to Elena, a goofy smile on his face. He actually sloshed over to Julian and tried to embrace him. “Julian! My very good bestest friend in the world!”

“You’re smashed,” Julian said, holding Cutter firmly away.

Cutter’s eyes widened. “I am?”

“He can’t be,” another Lestat said. He was young and fresh-faced, sort of like I thought Bart was before I found out Bart was a puke. “He didn’t have any beer. Or liquor or Red Specials or antying…anthying…anything.”

“What have you all been doing?” Elena asked suspiciously.

“I don’t remember.” Cutter blinked. The other Lestats echoed him.

“Do you remember anything?” Bo asked the fresh-faced Lestat.

“Nothing much,” the vampire said. “We were supposed to cause trouble. So we bit a few people.” When Bo growled, the young vampire added, “Not much! Not to hurt them or anything. Just to scare them a little.”

“Oh, no,” I said, a giggle bubbling up.

“This is hardly a laughing matter, Nixie,” Bo said.

“No, of course it isn’t.” I was trying to control myself and failing utterly. “So you bit a few people?” I asked the Lestat.

“Just a little,” he admitted, eying Bo warily.

“Which people?”

“Well…” He waved his hand vaguely around him. “People. Tourists,” he added, as if he’d just thought of the word and was proud of himself.

“Tourists. On the streets?”

All four vampires nodded.

I pursed my lips. “Hmm. Tourists…at the festival events?” They nodded harder. “At Nieman’s bar?” They nodded like spring-loaded goony birds. “In the beer tent?” They nodded so hard Bludgeon threw up.

Both Elena and Julian were laughing by this time. Even Bo was starting to smile a little. “Tourists with a blood alcohol level well into intoxication,” I said. “Do you suppose a vampire could get crunk on alcohol-laced blood?”

Julian and Elena were laughing too hard to answer. Bo said, “We learn something new every day. In fact—”

He was interrupted by a loud bray. “Mr. and Mrs. Strongwell! Mr. and Mrs. Emerson! Nixie, nice to see you and your little hubby!”

Julian took one look at Lew Kaufman, bearing down on us, and turned heel to run. He was stopped by Bo’s and Elena’s wide-open mouths. “Mr. and Mrs. Emerson?” Bo gasped, starting to laugh. “Oh, now that is rich.”

I blushed. Elena clapped an arm around my shoulders. “Congratulations, Nixie! You got yourself a keeper.” At that I flushed hot. I couldn’t look at Julian.

“Mr. Kaufman!” one of the Lestats called, distracting me from my embarrassment. “Mr. Kaufman, remember us?”

“’Course I do, m’boy!” Lew said. “I always remember a customer!”

“Customer?” I echoed, more to turn the subject from me and my little “hubby” than anything.

“I was at the Deli Delight and couldn’t believe it,” Lew said. “Someone packed all those perfectly good cheese balls away in back!”

“Cheese balls?” I asked faintly. “Which cheese balls?”

“The LLA’s, of course! Well, we couldn’t have that, could we?”

“We couldn’t…? Oh no. Lew, what did you do?”

“I sold them!” Lew chortled gleefully.

“Sold…them?” I asked in horror.

“Sure. Well, the head cheese and blood sausage ones.” He shook hands with all four Lestats. Gestured toward the other vampires reeling around. “My new best cheese ball customers.”

I looked around me with fresh eyes. Sure enough, several people were bent over like they were sick. Only now I knew they weren’t people.

They were vamps with tummy aches.

“Here’s the money, Nixie.” He handed me an envelope. “Well, got to run. Got to make sure the regular cheese ball shipment is good for tomorrow.”

 

 

 

Monday morning we sat in Bo’s kitchen, Elena and me, Julian and Bo. Counting money. “Four hundred ninety thousand, four hundred ninety-one thousand.”

“Here’s another three thousand,” Elena said, pushing a stack of money over.

“And the bank just called. We got a thousand in change.”

“Four hundred ninety-five thousand.” Bo stared at the money. “That’s not enough.”

“Damn.” I’d failed. Tears gathered in my eyes. I had worked so hard. But I had failed.

“It’s okay, Nixie.” Julian put an arm around me.

“No it’s not!” I wiped my eyes. “Fuck. I didn’t want to run this. Why did the mayor put me in charge? I know about organizing, not fundraising and shit. Did he want us to bomb?”

“We’re not beaten yet.” Elena squeezed my hand. “We’ll get the other five thousand somehow.”

“How?” I said bitterly. “Raise taxes? Ask for a donation from Chicago? Put on a relief telethon for Needy Attorneys?”

“Nixie.” Julian rubbed gently between my shoulder blades. “We’ll figure out something.” The soothing hand moved down. Rubbed my spine, the small of my back. Tickled my hair further down. Slid into my low-cut jeans…stopped suddenly.

“What’s this?” Julian pulled out an envelope, held it in front of my face.

I took it from his fingers. “Oh, just the money from Lew. For selling those god-awful cheese balls.” I tossed it onto the pile, unopened.

“But how much is it?” Elena asked.

“Come on, Elena. We’re talking LLAMA pusballs. We’ll be lucky if it’s not a class-action lawsuit.”

“You should at least open it,” Julian said.

“Forget it. You open it. I’m done with this being-responsible shit.”

“Pouting doesn’t become you, little girl,” Julian said softly.

“Who cares?” I groused back.

“Aren’t you even curious?” Bo asked. “I know I am.”

“Then you open it.”

“I think I will.” Extending claws, Bo slit the envelope. Pulled out a sheaf of bills.

Two Ben Franklins were on the outside. I snorted. “A Kansas City bankroll.” Lew was a salesman to the end.

Bo fanned it open. “No. Looks like turtles all the way down.”

“What?” Sure enough, even from across the table I could see every bill in the pack was a Franklin. “Fuck. How many?” My heart beat faster.

“Well, let’s see, shall we? One hundred.” Bo laid down a bill. “Two.” Another. He made ever so sure the edges of the two bills were square.

“Stop that.” Elena smacked her husband in the shoulder. “Just count the damn things.”

Bo looked across at Julian. “No sense of drama.”

“It’s the shorter life span. Always in a hurry.”

“Ah.”

“I’ll give you drama,” Elena said, eyes narrowing.

“How’s that?” Bo peeled off another $100, set it carefully on top of the other two.

“No sex,” Elena said distinctly.

“Well, that’s different, isn’t it?” Bo began to count quickly.

Fifty Franklins later, I was ready to kiss Lew Kaufman. “We did it,” I said, hardly believing it. “We made five hundred thousand dollars!”

“Ironic, isn’t it?” Bo slipped the stack of hundreds back into their envelope. “That the funds that put us over the top were contributed by Nosferatu’s own gang?”

“I’d say justice,” Julian said.

And so Meiers Corners had a happy ending.

But not me. I tried to be grateful. Truly I did. Meiers Corners was safe from the bad guys. The public had won. And Guns and Polkas would get their shot at stardom.

But at an astronomical personal cost. My baby was gone.

Oscar had died nobly, saving my life. But I was a little lost without him. It felt like part of myself was missing. I’d bought Oscar with the first money I ever earned. He was with me most of my life. I loved him more than many people.

I missed Oscar, terribly.

I had a feeling I’d miss my snarky lawboy more.