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foretold in the Book of
Revelation . . ."
"And not Marinette Bois-Chèche, who she pretended to be while enslaving the
other Loa to use as supernatural power sources for her sorceries," I added.
" . . . and in the process of unraveling her secrets, defeating her evil
schemes, and freeing the Loa from her sorcerous imprisonment, you've put our
address into the database of every vampire enclave in the world, the
government, the so-called gray men, and made us a stopping point on the
grateful dead's map of the homes of the stars . . ."
"Well " I said.
" . . . you've tasted vampire blood . . ."
"Vampire blood?" J.D. wanted to know.
"Deirdre's. I can smell her coming out of his pores," she explained. "And
she's tasted his: He's leaking out of her quite strongly."
"Um " I had forgotten about the acute sensitivity of a werewolf's nose.
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"He was dying," Deirdre tried to explain. "And some of that blood was
second-generation vampire blood "
"Not to mention the scent of human blood fresh from the vein and not
refrigerated in plastic as well as something more. Chris?"
"Demon infected," I answered. "I thought it was Loa-laced at the time."
J.D. looked at me with renewed respect. "Cséjthe, you dog!" His eyes shifted
to Lupé's less than admiring expression. "Sorry, ma'am."
"I come home to find the house in a shambles. It was probably a lot worse than
what I found, but I
arrived to find a cleanup crew of corpses washing down walls, mopping floors,
and hauling away trash bags filled with what, I don't even want to guess!"
"We might as well move anyway," I said dejectedly. "I think I lost my job."
"Move? How are we going to sell the house in this condition?" She got up and
walked over to the answering machine by the telephone. "At least I have a
little good news to give you in exchange for the devastation and chaos you
provided for my homecoming."
She pressed the playback button and the dean's voice crackled from the tiny
speaker. "Sam . . ." I
didn't hear the next few words, I was trying to figure out whom he was talking
about. Then I
remembered: To the university and most of the rest of the world I retained the
carefully forged identity of
Samuel Haim. " . . . must confess I was not amused when I was told what you
were doing. Using theatrical makeup and costuming to transform yourself into a
corpse while lecturing on Themes on Death in American Lit well, at best it
seemed like pandering and, at worst well, as I said, I was not amused.
But the registrar has reported a three hundred percent preenrollment increase
for your class next semester and I dropped by the other night to see for
myself. And I must admit that I was impressed.
Even from the hallway I could tell that the students were alert and paying
close attention. The discussion was spirited and insightful. I'm not keen on
gimmicks but the content was scholarly and comprehensive while engaging the
entire class. I think I can soothe any ruffled feathers from the rest of the
faculty if you'll commit to two or three compromises. First, think about
toning down the makeup. You weren't just unrecognizable, you were positively
ghastly. And lose the rotted-meat smell. I think the visual stimulus is quite
sufficient without layering on any olfactory realism. And, finally, no more
references to the preponderance of 'dead white males' in our curriculum." The
recording beeped and started on a message from a telemarketer selling aluminum
siding. Lupé hit the delete button. "No point in keeping this one:
aluminum isn't bulletproof."
I stood up as the teakettle began to whistle from the kitchen. "Baby, I'm . .
. sorry."
"Sorry?
Sorry?
" Even in her human skin I could see the little hairs standing up on her arms
and the nape of her neck. "I come home and have the hell scared out of me,
thinking you're dead, and all you can do is say you're sorry!" She grabbed the
front of my shirt and jerked me off my feet pulling me against her. "I didn't
want to go on living! I couldn't " Her eyes were brimming with tears as she
crushed her lips against mine and kissed me passionately.
* * *
Kurt and J.D. wound up sharing what was left of the foldout couch in the den.
Deirdre refused the guestroom, insisting on keeping watch downstairs while we
slept.
The sheets and pillowcases had been changed on our bed and if Lupé's nose had
detected anything of a suspicious nature, she had yet to mention it.
It was nearly eight a.m. when I closed the bedroom door and thumbed the lock
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for the illusion of privacy. I turned and looked at my werewolf lover who had
just emerged from the bathroom, brushing her long brown-black hair. The powder
blue nightgown that she wore softened the athletic lines of her slender torso
while the baby oil she had rubbed on her arms and chest made her skin glow
like polished cherry wood. She was what I affectionately call a big-nosed
girl, the features of her face carved more for piquant sensuality than
delicate beauty.
As she saw me she smiled and her features were transformed from comely to
dazzling. "Christopher,"
she whispered, "how I've missed you!"
"How?" I echoed. "How have you missed me?"
Her lips curled into something truly extraordinary. "Let me show you." The
nightgown was up and over her head in the blink of an eye. She was on the bed
before it hit the floor. Although she probably crooked her finger almost
immediately, it was all of another minute before I noticed that particular
detail.
A couple of minutes more and the very best detail was revealed: all was
forgiven.
* * *
"Chris?"
"Mmm?" While my preternatural biology did not require me to sleep during the
day, the last few days and nights (not to mention the previous forty-five
minutes) had taken their toll: I could hardly keep my eyes open.
"Explain the part about how you are now the Doman of the East Coast undead."
"Mmm. You want the how? Or the why?"
"The why, I guess. Assassination is the political advancement method of choice
in most enclaves and
New York makes Machiavelli look like Mary Tyler Moore."
"That's why I'm not relocating to the Big Apple." Her expression made it clear
that that was not going to cut it. "Look," I said, "if I don't take the
position, whoever does is going to come after me anyway.
And the ensuing battle over that vacancy will guarantee the rule of the
biggest, baddest neck-biter around. While I'm in charge, I can try to
institute some changes that might save human lives and protect my own
backside, as well."
"Why don't you just declare the East Coast demesne disbanded?"
I gave up on my slow slide into dreamland and sat up against the headboard.
"Are you kidding? Even if there was a chance that the majority would accept
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