MisStaked (41 page)

What if it wasn't a metaphorical one, but a real kiss? Thousands of years ago, this village's people had come to this door to offer the Mother her worship. It wasn't strange to think they would genuflect and kiss the object of that worship.

If that was the case, then as crazy as it sounded, all he had to do was pucker up and kiss a stone wall to open the door. He was just a tad bit weirded out by the idea. Breathred had never admitted it, but over the years he had practiced his kissing skills on mirrors and assorted posters. He wasn't proud of the fact or proud of the fact he had gotten quite good at it. Peeking over his shoulder, he saw Dr. Grayson and Truehart were still in the middle of their argument. Good. Just because he was going to kiss a rock, didn't mean he wanted to advertise the fact.

Holding his breath, he leaned in and planted his lips on the door. He fought the urge to jerk back. For a brief second it felt like the door was kissing him back. He didn't have time to think about the absurdity of it, because the panel slowly inched open. He fell back, as a whoosh of air rushed over him.

Foul air filled his nose. Against his own volition, Breathred found himself blacking out. He struggled to keep hold on his lucidity, but it was a losing battle. As the last spark of consciousness left him, he looked over and saw the flashing light on the camcorder. It had been transmitting the whole time. Man, if Stud saw him kissing the door...

Then, every thing went black.

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It's time to talk about post-traumatic stress disorder.

"Don't worry about your companions. They're safe for the moment,” D'brea said, startling Breathred.

She let out a giggle. The sound of her voice drove the poor man flying toward the open door. That wouldn't do. With a twist of her mind D'brea slammed the door shut. Breathred skidded to a stop. The look on his fright-filled face sent another wave of giggles ushering from her non-existent mouth. It had been a long time since she'd been able to do that, and without a physical form no less. It felt so good she didn't want to stop, bu had to.

There were things to be done. D'brea had patiently watched the trio of interlopers ever since they had entered her tomb. Unlike the pitiful example of manhood from the other night, she had gleaned much from their minds. There was still more she must know to prepare her for this new world she had awakened into.

D'brea knew she was in the twenty-first century. From the woman, the scientific advances of this modern world filtered into her mind. Cars, airplanes, DNA, an endless list of the things humans had discovered while she slumbered. Some she knew of from old, but the names were different. Most of it had been magic to those she once ruled over. To her it had been nothing more than simply the nature of things. Now, these truths were so commonplace most humans took them for granted.

Their attitude disturbed her. To take nature for granted was an unspeakable crime. The gift of life and its bounty was no small thing. Seeing these modern men disregard its importance shocked her. Her long slumber had dulled her to the stupidity of humans.

The one called Truehart was easy to manipulate. The knowledge dredged from his mind was mundane, yet interesting. The thing called Internet was most intriguing. To be able to communicate with the entire world from the safety of one's home was exciting in itself. You could even see tiny images of people you would never see in the flesh. And television—the idea was so impossible she almost couldn't believe it to be true. Whole segments of society did nothing except watch continuing drivel for hours upon end. As far as she could see, this television was no different from the Internet. It tore humans from the natural order of things. D'brea would relish the experience of seeing both of them first hand, but could not see the attraction of losing oneself in the want of it.

Time would tell. She was a fickle creature. D'brea knew this about herself. Though she could not remember ever being human, the woman knew she was as prone to the same distractions as they were. Perhaps for a time she would indulge in some harmless experimentation. That would be for later. Now, a more pressing engagement presented itself.

The one called Breathred was a stone wall. Except for his purity, D'brea had been unable to delve into his mind as she had the others. Only glimpses of surface thoughts floated in the forefront of his mind. The remainder was locked away behind a screen of loosely assembled safeguards. Instead of being infuriated, D'brea was content to pry what she could from him.

Oh, wasn't that cute. He was trying to look brave. At least he wasn't running around screaming. She couldn't stand loud noises coming from a man. It upset her cosmic balance.

"Release my friends from your fiendish embrace, creature of the night,” Breathred shouted. She wondered if he realized melodrama would get him nowhere.

"Freeing them would not be prudent at this time. I wish to converse with you alone first,” D'brea cooed.

"What are you doing to them?” Breathred asked.

"Nothing at the moment."

"Then, why aren't they moving?"

"Because I have suspended time around them, so we could talk. Weren't you listening? I'm sure I told you before,” D'brea said confused.

"Well, you didn't. How do I know you're not sucking their blood?"

"Because, I'm not. My body is still resting, there in the coffin. This is just my astral body.” D'brea was starting to get a headache from dealing with this fool. What did she have to do? Give this guy diagrams and a full lecture on being an undead spirit? “Now look, this is getting us nowhere. I see men have gotten no smarter since I went to sleep. I knew I should have tried talking to the woman first."

"So, you're not sucking their blood?"

"No,” she answered curtly. She was leeching a fraction of their life force to reinforce her dwindling power, but saw no sense in telling him. It would just set him off again. “What say I slip into something a little bit more form fitting, and we can talk?"

"You can do that?"

"Not really, but I can do a fair imitation of a ghost.” A
s long as I suck enough energy from your friends.

"Say, how come you can speak English?” he asked, as she shimmered into being across from him.

"Is that what this language is called? How quaint. I simply pulled it from your minds. An easy thing for one with my powers.” D'brea sidled up beside him. He hastily shuffled away. “Still afraid of me, I see."

"I tend to be leery of vampires, especially ones who have been asleep for three thousand years. So, why don't you just tell me what you want?"

"Dear boy, my list of wants could take up most of the night. Unfortunately, we don't have that much time."

"Why not?"

"Because my children are coming for me,” D'brea said, turning toward the closed door.

Lewis staggered toward the truck. He had been wrong. Being a vampire did nothing to stop it from hurting. The vampire felt like he had been shoved through a meat grinder instead of a busted windshield. With all the cuts on his body, he was lucky vampire blood clotted quickly, or he would be a bloodless corpse waiting for a fat squirrel to come along.

From the looks of it, the truck had fared better than him. The impact had only dented the front bumper and busted out the windshield. Lewis could see cracks in the side windows and a ripple in the left side fender, but nothing more to indicate major damage. Hell, he might even be able to drive this sucker back home, as long as the frame wasn't bent or the drive shaft wasn't warped. Even if they were, Lewis could still make the truck limp back to the road, if he didn't try any fancy driving.

Now, his only problem was finding Leopold. Reaching the truck, he peered through the cracked window. Leopold wasn't in the cab. There was no sign of blood either. The seat belt wasn't torn, so Leopold must have walked away after the crash. Knowing Leopold, the old vampire hadn't gone far. It was just a matter of finding him. Or not finding, whichever turned out to be easiest. Lewis rounded the corner of the vehicle and slammed right into Leopold.

"Lewis, are you trying to kill me?"

"Not that I know of, but I'll let you know when I start."

"See that you do. I hope you know your ineffectual driving has cost me my new frock coat.” He lifted a torn sleeve to illustrate his point.

"Sorry, boss,” Lewis said, not caring if Leopold believed him or not. None of this would have happened if they had just left the truck back at the campgrounds like he wanted to do.

"So how far from the dig site do you think, we are?"

"Not far.” Lewis looked for a landmark. He saw a stone outcropping he recognized from their last flight to the camp. “I think the dig is right over that rise. We should be there inside an hour."

"Good, it's a little past eight o'clock. That will give us nine hours to get the Mother and to get back under cover before the sun rises. I just hope this truck will run after all the damage you've done to it."

"It'll run,” Lewis assured him.

"I'm glad you think so. Now, get your gear together. I will deal with your inadequacies when we get back home."

Lewis snorted a less than favorable flurry of words under his breath, as Leopold took off. He wasn't vindictive by nature, but Leopold tended to bring out those tendencies in him. For now he was content with the knowledge those new suede pumps Leopold just bought weren't going to make it to the next season. Leo's ire over his ruined couture in itself was worth the discomfort of wet socks and soggy toes.

Luna felt her heart stop yet again. The feed from the tomb was gone. One minute Breathred was talking to thin air, then nothing but static. For one brief second Luna could have sworn she had seen a woman standing in front of him. Luna could have dismissed it as a figment of her imagination, but she wasn't one to imagine drop dead gorgeous women talking to her man.

It could only mean one thing—the Mother was awake. More than that, she was awake and putting the moves on Breathred. One second was all it took for Luna to recognize a skank when she saw one. The fact the skank in question was the three thousand year old Mother of the entire vampire race made no difference. This was about propriety and Breathred was her property, which marked him as off limits to everything from Catholic school girls to decrepit, dried up vampire skanks.

"Easily, get the feed back up,” Luna hissed.

"I'm trying to, but it was cut from the sender. All I'm getting is dead air.” Jessica slapped the keyboard in frustration. “If you think you can do better, be my guest."

"I can...” Luna began then closed her mouth. Easily was right. If the feed was cut off from the camera itself, there was nothing any of them could do. Feeling bad about her outburst, she turned to Easily. “I'm sorry, Jessica. It's just I can't stand the thought of Breathred alone in there."

"It's okay. I know how you feel. I would give anything to go rushing in there and help them,” Jessica smiled weakly and patted the girl on the hand.

"Thank you,” Luna smiled back.

"For what?"

"For understanding."

"Well, buy me a hanky. Look, you two may be fine with sitting here and mopping up each other's tears, but I'm not. My buddy's trapped with some undead cow from hell and I'm going to do something about it,” Stud said, his face a mask of pain and defiance. “So, excuse me while I go save his ass."

"And how do you plan on doing that? Turn into King Kong and bash the door down?” Easily snapped, giving him a mock monkey face and beating her chest with her balled up fists.

"Kiss my ass, bitch.” Stud jumped from his seat. “You've been nothing but trouble since I first saw you. So, you can keep your smart remarks to yourself."

"I'll tell you something, you dirty little shit thrower. I have had enough of you.” Jessica slowly rose to her feet.

"Bring it on, you blonde-haired hoochie."

"Stop it, both of you. This fighting isn't going to save Breathred or the others,” Luna turned to Jessica. “Look, he's right. We have to do something. There's another walkie-talkie on the table. You stay here and monitor the radio, while Stud and I see if there isn't some way we can get the door to the tomb back open."

"Ms. Walking Batch I don't think you should do that,” a voice called from the doorway.

Luna whipped her head around to see Leopold and Lewis standing in the tent's open flap. She reached down and put her hand on Stud's head to hold him in place. He tried to pull away, but she held him firmly. This was no time for the chimp to go off half-cocked.

Leopold swirled into the tent with a flourish. Even soaked to the bone by snow and wearing torn and muddy clothes, the vamp acted like he owned the world. Luna wished she could say she was surprised to see him. In fact she'd been wondering why he hadn't showed up before now. The thought didn't make the sinking feeling in her gut any better. It was obvious this wasn't a pleasure visit. From the looks of him, all the cards were fixing to be put on the table.

"Mr. Chambris du Portus, what a pleasant surprise.” Luna gave him her best fake smile.

"You can cut the horse manure, Ms. Walking Batch. I think we're past the silly games and pretenses. You know what I'm here for, so let's just get down to it. Shall we?” Leopold gave a smile in answer to her own, but his voice was cold and hard.

"Look here Froggy, you can shove...” Stud got out, before Luna clapped her hand over his mouth.

"I think what he was trying to say was, we don't know what you mean,” Luna said, trying to keep the struggling Stud in hand.

"Please, don't insult either one of our intelligences. This little game is over, and I do so hate to have these scenes drag on. Now, shut up and do what I say.” Leopold motioned for Lewis to come forward. “Lewis, would you be so kind as to see the nice lady and her monkey back to their chairs? I would hate for them to come to any harm."

"What makes you think you can tell us what to do?” Stud asked.

"Because as you very well know by now, I'm a vampire and if you don't, I'll snap your neck and suck you dry until you are nothing more than a sock monkey dangling from my hand."