Ten, p.15
Ten, page 15
“—Oh, I agree, Geoffrey, Lilian simply has to admit her feelings to the contessa,” Georgia overheard.
“Geoffrey,” Georgia mouthed. “Oh, my, this is getting serious.”
Georgia’s father gave his daughter dagger eyes. He made double sure that everyone was completely engrossed before motioning her to join him by the sink. “Can you give me a hand with these?” he asked as he pointed to an impressive pile of china.
Ren moved first. “Why don’t I take care of the animal-fat-coated plates, while you two catch up?” he offered. “I’m sure you both have a lot to say that doesn’t involve lipstick shades and turnover recipes.”
“Yeah, I could use a smoke,” Shane sighed.
Georgia dutifully followed her father out to the porch where her mother had thoughtfully cleaned the leaves off the patio set and put a bucket of sand and some tea lights on the table. “I hate daylight savings time,” Mr. Sutherland muttered as he surveyed the already darkened backyard, even though the second football game was only in the first quarter.
“And I hate that you didn’t quit smoking. . . again,” Georgia muttered.
“Your boyfriend seems nice enough,” her father said as he fought with his lighter. His face softened after he took a few long drags of his cigarette.
Georgia coughed as the first batch of menthol-scented fumes wafted towards her. She waved the smoke away with her hands and made a point to sit in a seat upwind. “Is that all you had to say, Dad?” she asked. “He’s not just nice. He happens to have a genius IQ and speak almost a dozen languages.”
“I loved the look on his face when Ted asked if he knew Kung Fu,” the elder Sutherland snorted.
“I’m surprised Mom didn’t ask if he was in the Yakuza.”
“Her eyes did nearly pop out of her sockets when he showed off his sleeves. I mean, he’s not in the Japanese mob, right?”
“Dad!”
“I like seeing you smile, even if it’s only because I’m annoying you, kiddo,” Shane sighed. “It’s awkward, but I’m glad Maggie made us both drag our asses over here today.”
“Even though you’ve spent most of the day omitting the fact that you seemed to recognize my boss,” Georgia asked with a raised brow.
It was Shane’s turn to cough. He busied himself by tapping the ash off his cigarette and rubbing his stubble until the words came to him. “That obvious, huh?” he finally asked.
“Dad, you are many things, but subtle is not one of them,”
Georgia sighed.
“Subtle, I might not be, but I am perceptive.”
“Oh?”
“Like how your nice boyfriend either has one hell of a cocaine habit or something really wrong with his nose,” Mr. Sutherland said between puffs. “He was flushing a lot of bloody tissues, kiddo.”
“He’s getting over being sick,” she muttered.
“The kind of sick that has you chugging little flasks of red liquid,”
Shane offered.
“I don’t know what—” She trailed off as her dad pulled a flask out of his blazer pocket. He took off the top and watched his daughter recoil after taking just one sniff. “Dad,” she gasped.
“They always say that little girls look for guys that remind them of their fathers,” Shane said sadly as he stared at the rising moon. “I just wasn’t expecting you to pick up another damn bondsman. Don’t pretend anymore, Georgia. We’ve lost too much time for you to keep up the charade.”
“Dad, you’re a bondsman?” she choked out. “That means that. . .
that—”
“How long have you known about vampires, honey?” Georgia’s father asked.
She just stared at him, dumbstruck. He finished his cigarette, and only once it was snuffed out in the bucket did he dare speak again.
“Even in Massachusetts it was all but impossible for same-sex couples to adopt a kid in the nineties, and Mitch and I weren’t the poster children for being dads. We were young and idealistic and had more hope than money.”
“Oh, Dad,” she whispered. “So that story about you having some side fling so that you and Mitch could have a kid, was all just a terrible lie? I mean, Mitch said he left you because he was always going to be jealous. I hated him for leaving us, you know. I even hated you for a while because you pawned me off on the rest of the family because I thought you blamed me—”
“Oh, kiddo—” He said. “You know when you start down that path of lying—”
“But you lied to me,” Georgia spat. “Why did Mitch really leave?
Are you even my real father?”
Shane shook his head slowly. “Yeah, there is no way to sugarcoat this, is there?”
“No, not really. I’m still trying to fathom what exactly you are about to tell me—since you’ve lied to me my whole life about how you gave me up for adoption because you had a drug habit and your boyfriend left you. That was somehow less fucked up than the actual truth?”
“Hey, watch that language,” he said giving her a paternal stare.
“You’re about to hear me conjugate words far filthier than that if you don’t start giving me answers, Dad.”
“Like I said, it was all but impossible if you wanted to adopt. Both Mitch and I had a pretty good business doing costumes and makeup, but we had a pretty good side business making sure that certain special individuals looked lively enough to pass among us.
Eventually we worked almost exclusively with one—”
“You dressed up vampires as a side job,” she snapped. “Is that where you saw my boss?”
Shane nodded. “I only saw him once or twice. We usually worked for a lady, she seemed rather fond of him, but we tried to always stay out of her business.”
“A lady vampire. Oh, god,” Georgia said.
“I know what you must be thinking, but she was always kind to us,” Shane said. “We saw her fight once with that. . . man in the other room, but then she would laugh and say that boys would be boys—”
“Let me guess, she was tall, beautiful, Indian—”
“How did you know?” Georgia’s father asked.
“Mina,” Georgia muttered. “You worked for my bosses’ mom. How ironic is that? What was I, some sort of payment? Oh, my god, I was payment to you from a vampire—”
“You make it sound so terrible. You have to understand, these vampires have laws—”
“Oh, don’t you dare lecture me about those stupid, god-damned four fucking laws—! Wait, are you about to chastise me on my
language again? I’m not even close to finished—”
“Georgia, please!”
“You don’t get a ‘Georgia please,’ Dad. Do I even still call you dad?”
“Legally, no, you don’t have to call me that anymore since the adoption went through, but I’d like to think that after all the years I looked out for you—”
Georgia slumped in her chair. “I don’t know what to think right now,” Georgia muttered. “Just tell me, did Mina Thakkar give me to you?”
“No, she wasn’t supposed to know anything about the arrangement. Please, if you ever see her, you can’t say anything, promise me, kiddo.”
“Dad, we have lunch dates when she’s in town,” Georgia sighed.
“I take care of her damn son! What aren’t you telling me?”
“We always worked for Mina, but there was another one of those things, a far scarier one who visited her. He always looked miserable in her presence, as if he was in constant pain, and he dressed like one of those Goth kids. He had green eyes that would put your boyfriend’s to shame, and I remember how pissed off I was because Mitch was all but drooling over his English accent.”
“Like he looked perpetually pissed off? Let me guess, pale English-looking guy, longish, black hair?” Georgia said as she started laughing uncontrollably.
“He approached us with a proposition, kiddo. He said that he had to clean up after a terrible tragedy—”
“What terrible tragedy?” Georgia snapped.
“You’ve obviously met some vampires. Would you ask? I got the impression from the coldness in his voice that he might have been responsible, but he offered us a deal. We would get all the blood we needed without any more contracts, without any more risk, and we would get the little girl of our dreams. As long as we said we’d take care of you—”
“I was just some vampire’s mess, some evil vampire’s mess,”
Georgia choked out.
“Honestly, for the first few years, we were just happy you started walking and talking again. The child psychologist we took you too said it was extreme trauma—”
“Well you’re lucky I didn’t end up a serial killer, aren’t you? I don’t remember any of this other than you being my dad. I mean, what happened to Mitch?”
“He ran off to be a blood bag for a vampire in France,” Shane spat before lighting another cigarette. “Believe me, it had nothing to do with you. Sometimes things just don’t work out.”
“And if you’re a bondsman, that means—”
“I partied a little too much in the eighties. Vampire blood was my alternative medicine. I figured anywhere from five to fifty years was better than the drugs at the time. Oh, kiddo, believe me when I say that I had to lie. If they thought for even a second that I told you that vampires exist—”
“You’d have broken the second law. Here I was thinking about how I’d have to hide my life from my family, and it turns out that my family has been the one hiding things from me. Are you now going to tell me that Mom is really a werewolf or something?”
“That’s ridiculous. Everyone knows werewolves don’t exist,” her dad snorted. “Please believe me that the only thing I ever lied to you about were the circumstances of how I got you and why Mitch had to leave.”
“And the drug addiction?”
“The addiction was real, but it was um, vampire, um fluids not heroin—”
“You can get addicted to—”
“I really shouldn’t be having this talk with my daughter, but you should know that certain vampiric secretions can make you high—”
“Yes, I know all about hallucinogenic vampire semen,” Georgia blurted out.
“You do?” Shane said before all but swallowing his butt. He looked through the window and stared in horror at the pasty redhead chatting up his youngest sister. “Georgia, are you and—”
Georgia stared at Mr. Lambley in horror as well. “Eww, no!” she snapped. “And you’ll excuse me if I don’t discuss all my escapades
with you, Dad, but I may have gone on a few dates with a handsome young soldier boy. . . from World War II.”
Both sat in stunned silence again. Georgia started rubbing her arms as the cold night breeze began to whip around the pair. She closed her eyes, listened to the rustle of the leaves, and smelled the toasty aroma of a nearby turkey fryer mixed with fire-pits and smoldering tobacco.
“Sounds like we have a lot more to talk about, kiddo,” Shane sighed.
“On one condition,” she said as she dared to reach over and take his hand.
“Name it.”
“We never talk about hallucinogenic vampire semen ever, ever again.”
“Deal.”
“I think we have finally discovered the scientific limit of what a human stomach can hold,” Kyle moaned as he set his fork down on the patio dining table. Paige groaned in agreement but continued to gnaw on her turkey leg, while the entire dinner party stared at a mountain of poultry carcasses.
“I could be quite content drinking this gravy for the rest of my life,”
Toy said as she licked her plate.
“Speak for yourself, I’ll keep my martini,” Nadia laughed. Kayleigh tipped her glass in agreement, while Bernard and Billy drooled at the pretty young werewolf gals in gauzy sweaters and low-cut dresses.
Paige finally set down her stripped clean bone and let out a tremendous belch. Morgan fanned in front of his nose and tried his best to pull away from her, but she wrapped her arm around his waist and slid him closer.
“Oh, you are not getting away that easily, Mr. Blaylock,” she cooed in his ear.
Sammy mimicked the move and snatched his boyfriend by the waist. Unfortunately, the larger werewolf’s mass combined with beer and their proximity to the end of the bench sent both boys toppling onto Tina’s deck. The entire pack burst into howls of laughter as peas landed in Kyle’s hair and turned his wild mop into something rather like a Christmas tree in reverse colors.
“That is so gonna win the internet,” Toy proclaimed as she took a picture of the fumbling pile of bodies.
“Wow, I’ve seen fraternity parties with more class,” a snide voice sighed from the deck railing.
“Indeed, American celebrations do tend to get obnoxious rather quickly,” a British-accented voice chimed in.
The werewolves settled down just long enough to glare in unison at the pair of pale strangers judging them from their perch. Lorcan and Steve clinked their own glasses, and both took gulps of thick red liquid that reeked of detectable alcohol, even over the pile of bones and token vegetables.
“Oh, I’m sure vampire parties are just to die for,” Paige sighed.
She gulped down the rest of her martini. “I can’t believe I just said that out loud.”
“Well, you’re gonna find out just how to die for they are, aren’t you Shorty Spice?” Toy blurted out. The elder vampire’s face instantly hardened as he glared at the other dinky werewolf.
“What’s she talking about, Paige?” Morgan asked.
“I saw the invitation, chica—”
“You were looking through my things, LaToya?” Lorcan asked.
“You left it out—”
“Hey, Pops, let’s not ruin a good night,” Steve said. “I’m guessing that you had something to tell me, so let’s go off and talk all civilized and stuff.”
As the vampires disappeared into the night, the stares returned to Toy and Paige. Paige whimpered at her empty glass. “Apparently, I’ve been invited to a vampire party,” Paige confessed.
“Well, you can’t go,” Morgan said without skipping a beat. “Was this his idea?”
“No, he’s just as against it as you are. It has to do with his family politics—”
“He’s the head of the damn family. How can there possibly be politics—?”
“Yeah, I think it’s time to start bussing the table,” Nadia said as she picked up her plate. “You guys want to help?”
“Thanks, Toy,” Paige growled as the table cleared in a matter of seconds. With his arms already crossed over his chest, Morgan, however, remained defiantly settled in his seat.
“It has something to do with Merlin—”
“The Merlin?” Morgan hissed. At the same time both werewolves picked up a Brooklyn accent exclaiming the exact same thing. “When were you going to tell me about this?”
“I was trying to get through a holiday without vampire drama as a side dish!” Paige snapped. “I had family to see, human family, and I just needed my biggest worry to be if we had enough cranberry sauce for twenty-four hours. Oh, and I had a bunch of bullets taken out of me and tried my best to introduce my sole vampire relative to his dying, estranged human son, so I’m really sorry I didn’t have time to discuss my social plans with you.”
“When is this party again?”
“June,” Paige said flatly.
“So, I have plenty of time to talk you out of it, and you’re right.
Now is not the time—”
“Now is the time for wine and pie,” she said.
Morgan eyed her pile of bones. “Are you sure you can handle my pie?” he asked.
She leaned against him and listened to his steady heartbeat.
“Yeah, I’ve had about five minutes of rest. I’m totally ready for pie.”
“I’ll go get some then,” Morgan said as he bussed both their plates. No sooner was Paige alone at the table then she heard some Italian swearing followed by a meaty thud.
She darted from the bright, fairy-light-covered deck and out into the lawn. She let out an exasperated sigh as she saw her great-grandfather rolling on the patchy grass; while Lorcan wiped blood from his freshly split lip. The elder vampire stormed past the
dumbstruck girl but paused just long enough to shake his head and mutter, “You can’t have a conversation with a Jaeger,” before wandering back onto the deck.
“What happened?” she asked as she darted to his side.
He flopped his arms and legs wide as if making a snow angel and laughed as he shook his head. Even in just the moonlight, Paige could see the swelling already starting around his darkened right eye.
“I never realized Lord Pendragon had such a mean left hook,” the vampire sighed.
“You couldn’t even let me have my pie, could you?” Paige sniffed.
“You come from a long line of assholes, Pipsqueak. The sooner you accept that, the more at peace you will be.”
“Do I want to know why you two decided to have a fistfight right after Thanksgiving dinner?”
Steve shook his head. “Of course, you don’t. You know it’s a lot nicer and warmer down here. I haven’t seen green grass up north for at least a month. The stars are pretty too—”
“Did Lorcan knock you silly?” Paige asked as she eased down next to him to get a closer look at his shiner. “I can get Kyle to take a peek at you—”
“The same doctor that was too squeamish to work on you? No, thank you. Also, why do you call him Lorcan, anyway? Not only is he the stuck-up head of a house, but don’t you think his name sounds more suited for an allergy medicine rather than a dude?”
Paige stifled a little giggle. “That’s how I was introduced to him, that’s all.”
Steve rolled over to get a good look at his human descendant. He raised the brow over his good eye. “You and Lord Poo-face don’t have some sort of. . . sort of thing, do you?” he asked.
“No, we certainly do not have a thing,” Paige snapped. “I thought I was pretty clear that I’m dating Morgan, didn’t I? Look, if this is about the invitation—”
