MisStaked (26 page)
Authors: J. Morgan
Breathred beamed. “I can do that."
"I know you can, that's why I love you,” Luna whispered, kissing him lightly on his quivering lips.
"Luna, I uh, well you know."
"Yes, Breathred,” she said, her voice a husky whisper in his ear.
"I, uh, think we better go find Dr. Grayson. She's probably sore at me for hitting poor Mr. Brogan."
Why had Luna had her nose scrunched up that way? She looked almost frustrated. Breathred hoped it wasn't something he said. For a minute there he'd been so close to making a fool of himself by saying something totally inappropriate. Breathred wasn't sure what but was sure he shouldn't say it quite yet. For some reason Breathred knew Luna wanted him to say whatever it was. Before this little adventure was over, who knew what could happen? Breathred might even figure it out before Luna told him what he was supposed to say.
Leopold stood at the opulent bay window and watched as the last of the evening's snow drizzled to a stop. The vampire was glad to see the end of it. All this white goodness was frankly getting on his nerves. Leopold guessed he didn't have much to complain about. It hadn't accumulated or anything.
It was still the principle of the matter. In a few short days he was to become one of the princes of the new world—the only prince, if Leopold had anything to say about it. How dare the weather not co-operate with his grand scheme!
Leopold thought about killing a weatherman or two to settle his frazzled nerves. He would have, but they tended to be pudgy and dressed in polyester blends. That would have clashed with what his current color scheme, so dismissed the idea as being too horrible to contemplate. Besides, bad taste in clothes might be contagious. It was best not to chance it.
It was half past eight. The sun had been down for a little over two hours. By this time, Lewis should be rendezvousing with Easily and Truehart at the dig site. He could have probably left the two scientists to their own devices, but thought it better to have his companion check up on them.
His plans were coming together and Leopold was hesitant to risk their failure to the human factor. He might have to depend on his human agent to get things done while he slept, but it didn't mean he had to trust the mortal completely. It was too much to ask.
Lewis would have to be his go between. Not that he trusted the youngster all that much, either. The youngster was still too human himself to be totally dependable. In a century or two that might not be the case. It took a couple of lifetimes before a vampire realized his place in the world. Lewis was still at the potty-training stage.
So, the great Leopold du Chambris Portus sat and waited while the game was played out beyond his control. For now the vampire contented to be the chess master. As long as his pieces did as ordered, that would be the case until the time of his rise finally came.
Leopold sat by the roaring fireplace, fumbling with the flowing cuffs of his shirt. He could have been thinking many majestic thoughts at a time like this, but wasn't. The only thought that dominated his mind was the unanswered desire for a cup of hot cocoa with those colored marshmallows floating on top.
After a good night's sleep, everything looks better, especially if you're alive to wake up and enjoy it.
Breathred woke fully refreshed. It was like the preceding day had never happened. He rolled over and saw Stud was still asleep. That gave him about an hour of uninterrupted peace and quiet. Breathred looked up at his alarm clock. It read 7:32 in the blessed a.m. On second thought, Stud would be asleep for another two hours. The chimp hated to get up before ten, eleven thirty if he could manage it. Today, like the day before, would be an exception. According to Dr. Grayson's schedule, they would be heading to the dig around noon. By his figuring, he could wake Stud by eleven and still have time to whip the monkey into shape for the short hike to the site.
Breathred threw his lanky legs over the side of the bed. A half-hearted yawn followed him to the bathroom. He tried not to scratch his itchy parts, but couldn't help himself. He looked around to make sure Stud was really asleep, and the blinds were closed. Once sure he wouldn't be caught, Breathred reached down and hyper-scratched, keeping one eye on the window. Even though he knew it was a necessary function, doing it still made him feel dirty for touching himself in such an unladylike manner. He just knew there was a nun with a ruler hiding behind the bathroom door, ready to pound him. It was irrational, but a solid Catholic education was a hard thing to shake.
The urge to yell
Naked Nun, Naked Nun
and run around the room almost paralyzed him to the spot. Breathred sucked the impulse down into his brain, as far as he could knowing if he didn't he would go blind. You didn't mess with nuns. They had ways to make St. Peter look at you funny when you went to see him.
Finishing his business, Breathred crept to the bathroom door. He pushed it open with his socked toe. The light was still on from his last trip to bathroom at about three a.m. He checked the floor for any nun-like shadows. None revealed themselves so it must be safe. Dog-gone it, the shower curtain was closed. He would just have to risk it. Breathred drew the paranoia line at nuns hiding in showers. That would lead to other more disturbing questions, like what did nuns wear in the shower? That single impure thought would send him to hell alone.
Breathred shambled over to sink and stared at his reflection. It shocked him. When did he get so old? Tiny lines wormed their way from the corners of his eyes. If wrinkles weren't bad enough, he was beginning to grow his father's wattle. When did that happen? By the time forty rolled around he'd be a turkey from the neck up. The thought was so depressing Breathred didn't even floss after brushing his teeth. He was just thankful male pattern baldness wasn't an issue. If it ever become one, they could just put him in the ground and call him Petunia.
The mirror must be lying. It was shoddy workmanship somewhere. No, it had to be the fact that it was a Canadian mirror. They just weren't up to the high standards the American government required of those made in the good ol’ U.S.A.
Feeling better about it, Breathred went over and hastily finished his morning ablutions. He did such things with both eyes closed. Again, fear of nuns prevented him from looking at those parts of his anatomy that could possibly lead to blindness, hairy palms or eternal damnation. It never hurt to be cautious with such things.
Leaving the bathroom, Breathred hastily dressed. After spending the whole day in the cramped mini-van he felt the need to be out in the open, yearning to smell fresh, unpolluted air. He grabbed his heavy jacket from the chair beside the door and left Stud snoring blissfully in the darkened room.
For some reason he wasn't surprised to see Luna leaning over the handrail outside the cabin. She always was an early riser. After his episode the day before, Breathred didn't know how to approach her. She was still the same girl, but he felt different. Somehow, he wasn't the same man who had left Seattle less than two days ago.
Sure, he was still the same on the outside, but inside he felt not the same. It was hard to explain. Luna had changed him. Breathred knew for a fact, he wasn't about to change on his own. The would-be slayer liked who he was, or at least he had. Now Breathred wasn't as confident of that statement.
Breathred wanted to be a hero, like one of those guys on the covers of Kinley MacGregor novels. All right, his dark secret was out. He read romance novels. Breathred never went to Target to get them, not even at the run down used-book store, where he bought his old Sci-fi books. Breathred had the good sense to buy them online and used Stud's credit card to pay for them.
But, there it was. He yearned to be a roguish, dashing man. Breathred wanted to be the type of man who swept women off their feet. No, he wanted to sweep one woman in particular off her feet. Breathred was surprised to hear such a revealing thought rolling around inside his head, but knew it was true. Luna made him feel like one of those men. Just by looking at him, she made him feel like a Malory or a MacAllister, instead of the klutz who was afraid to look at himself naked, let alone allow a woman see him in such a condition.
Breathred coughed softly so Luna would know he was here. She turned and gave him a warming smile. He walked over to her and leaned down beside her. She took his hand into hers. For once he didn't pull away. Her hand was cold. He brushed his other hand on top of it, cradling it until it warmed under his touch.
"You better stop that or people might begin to think you're sweet on me.” She smirked.
Breathred jerked his hand back and looked around for innocent bystanders.
"You mean you're not sweet on me?” she asked with a sullen pout.
"Well, you know I am. No, I didn't mean that."
"Then, I had better find me another vampire slayer,” she said, throwing her hand across her brow.
"You better not."
"Then, you are sweet on me?” She prodded.
"If it stops you from throwing yourself at some total stranger, then I am sweet on you."
"As long as you realize you were the first one to say it."
Breathred wasn't sure, but he thought she was hiding a smirk behind her hand. Breathred stopped dead in his tracks. Wait a minute! She was. Not only that, she had tricked him. He wouldn't have said that, if she hadn't. He might think it, even feel it, but it was highly unfair for her to make him say it. The tactic must be against the Geneva Convention or something. What else she could make him admit to? It was the most sobering thought he had ever had.
"So what you doing out here so early?” Luna asked.
"Guess I was excited about getting started,” he said, guardedly. “Couldn't stay asleep, so I decided to come outside for a little fresh air."
"Me, too, Breathred.” She paused. “Do you think we'll really find this vampire mother?"
"Yes. Vampires had to come from somewhere. Boffrend doesn't even explain why they're here. Something about this seems like it's the real thing. Call it intuition, but I think the Mother is out there in these woods. Ever since we got here, I've had this tingling at the back of my head telling me she's out there."
"How do you know it's not just wishful thinking?” Luna asked in all seriousness.
"After we fought those vampires at the mall, it's like my mind became attuned to them. A part of me can feel them moving in the world around us. Just like at the meeting the other night. I could feel the wrongness in that Leopold guy. It screamed to me, saying this guy ain't right. I wanted to go after him and tell him he didn't belong here,” he explained, as he looked at the thick tree line that bordered the campground.
Luna took his words in. For the first time she realized this wasn't a game. She could get hurt. More importantly Breathred could get hurt. Or worse. There was always a worse. Why hadn't she thought this through?
She looked back to Breathred. He was still lost in his own thoughts. He looked different. The naiveté was gone from his face. A hardness had replaced it.
How much of that came from the bond between them? Was her meddling with her own spirit affecting him? No, he'd had the same look in the shoe store, when they were attacked by those vamps. It could only mean this was something to do with his vampire slayer thingie. But that shouldn't have anything to do with the way he was acting.
If you became a doctor, you didn't stop being goofy. You were just a goofy doctor. Right? When this thing was over, she would get to the bottom of this. The only thing that should be able to change her Breathy was her.
"Say, you want to go over to the dining room and see if they have any cherry pop tarts?” He asked in his normal goofy voice.
Luna smiled. There were some things you just couldn't change. “Sure, they might even have some Fruity Pebbles."
"Ya think!” Breathred exclaimed.
Luna could see a thing line of drool forming in the corners of his mouth.
"If they don't, we'll just have to go find some. There's no way I'm going into the Canadian wilderness without some good old fashion junk food to start the day,” Luna assured him.
"We could get some powered milk, too. I like powered milk.” He grabbed her hand and dragged her toward the dining room.
"I know you do, but let's not go crazy."
Okay, Breathred might not be perfect, but he was as close as she wanted to get.
Getting there is only half the battle, but the easiest part of the whole damn thing.
After breakfast, Breathred didn't have much time to think much about Luna, sparking, or the fact he might be sweet on anybody. Dr. Grayson had announced her decision to leave early to avoid any more unpleasantness due to Stud and his altercation with Brogan of the day before during his second bowl of cereal. Breathred got the idea the professor was more worried the Canadian representative would have them all deported for bringing an unlicensed chimpanzee into the country. Whatever the case. At promptly 10:47 they headed out.
Breathred was no stranger to walking. Except for the occasional bus ride, he walked all over Seattle, from one end to the other. But this hiking was totally different. For one thing the forest wasn't paved. Not that he had given it much thought, but at the very least, they could have put down some heavily packed gravel to match the rustic surroundings. There was none of that. If the uneven path wasn't harsh enough, there were tiny acorns hidden among the slippery pine straw littering the path. Even through his thick hiking boots, the tiny nuisances were making mincemeat of his feet. Why couldn't they have some of those ATV's or at the very least a few pack mules? Leopold might be an undead bloodsucking fiend, but he could have forked out a few more dollars for a little more convenience. Breathred wasn't one to grouse over a hardship or two, but sore feet were an exception to any rule.
They had been trampling through this gnat-infested jungle for three hours. How could it be cold and there still be gnats flying around? That had to go against the laws of nature. But who did you report that sort of thing to? Mother Nature didn't exactly have an e-mail address. If she did, Breathred hadn't been able to find it. Over the years, he had been having some serious doubts about what Michael Jackson was doing to himself and wanted some answers. For all his time and effort, all he'd been able to find was a site called mothersnaughtynature.com. In all honesty, he couldn't find anything remotely connected to mothers or nature. The place was full of women wearing barely anything. In some cases nothing at all. It was all so disturbing he forgot the whole thing. If Mother Nature wanted to talk to him, she could find him.