Real Vampires Live Large (28 page)

“Of course, Gloriana. Gather the beasts and I'll meet you by the door.” Damian whispered something in Di's ear and she nodded. Making a late date? Not my business. Not Will's either and he was sulking about it. He really couldn't compete for Di's attention in dog form. And Diana wasn't the only attractive female vampire in the room Will might have liked to hit on. Bela, no,
Ralph
, had moved on to a redhead who looked like she could handle anything.

I reached for my cell phone and turned it on again. Messages. I scrolled through the numbers. Jerry. Flo. Unknown, which I was afraid was Westwood. I might not ever listen to that one. But Jerry and Flo . . .

Jerry first. Westwood had definitely skipped out on them. He and Mara were headed to Europe. Westwood's arm wasn't healing well and he was going to a clinic in Switzerland. Jerry and Mara had cornered one of Westwood's men and pulled that info out of him. His mind, that is.

My stomach in knots, I listened to Flo's message.

“Glory, Simon is so sorry you've been worried about me. And that he might have frightened you with that man coming after you.” Flo sighed. “Kaplan's been punished, Glory. And Simon wants to make it up to you. He's sent you a case of your favorite Fangtastic. Please keep an open mind about him, Glory. He's not the villain Richard claims he is. Remember, I dumped Ricardo not so long ago. He's jealous of Simon. I'll talk to you tomorrow night. Ciao.”

I stared at the phone for a moment. Well, as a peace offering a case of my favorite was a swell start. But I didn't believe for an instant that Richard was acting out of jealousy. I glanced at him where he stood listening intently to CiCi. Flo needed to hear CiCi's version of Simon and the EVs. I'd have to see that the two women got together.

“Richard, I'll do whatever you need me to.” Damian glanced back at Diana who'd picked up her purse and was saying her good-byes. “Call me tomorrow.” He turned to me. “Gloriana?”

I nodded, then stopped to hug CiCi. She was looking overwhelmed. Well, who wouldn't after finding out that your ex and the father of your only child was in town? The fact that he was Simon, king of the evil EVs, was just the icing on her crappy cake. Then she looked me in the eye and sent me a mental message. She was more than a match for Simon Destiny when it came to protecting her darling boy. Hmm. Made me wonder what kind of power rating the lady had.

When we got to the car, I told Damian about Flo's message.

“She's obviously hitting the VV too hard. After what we heard tonight, I'm even more determined to get her away from that creep.” Damian drove fast and we were at the shop before either of us had come up with any kind of plan to help his sister.

Damian stopped and shook his head. “No parking places. What the hell is going on at”—he glanced at the glowing clock on the dashboard—“four o'clock in the morning?”

“Looks like a block party.” I hopped out and let the dogs out of the back.

“A block party from hell, maybe.”

Eighteen

I scanned the crowd. Lots of black lipstick, black clothes and eyeliner, but none of that scared me. I could have done without all the piercings and tattoos, but, hey, maybe that was jealousy talking since I'd had no luck with either. And, trust me, I'd tried. Three hours for a sexy pair of lips in luscious red puckered up on my left butt cheek. After a day of vamp sleep? Nada. Talk about frustration.

“I'll park and then I'm meeting Diana at Mugs and Muffins. Will you be all right?”

“Sure. These look like potential customers to me.” I smiled and pushed my way through the crowd. I'm nothing if not open-minded. I mean, I travel with a shape-shifter and a vampire, both of whom were baring their teeth to clear a path for us to the door of the shop.

But why wouldn't these people wear something other than black? Booorrring. I should know. I spent a century or so in black, blending into the night, hiding in the shadows. Trust me, I'm so over the lurking thing. Well, unless an EV or a hunter is on my trail.

I heard the music even before the door opened. My usual oldies station? I don't think so. Not with that bass beat. Obviously the TV Web site got more hits than I'd imagined. Inside, people crowded in front of Flo's mural. Not everyone was in black either. A pair of women who looked like escapees from a PTA meeting elbowed a man in khakis and a pale blue polo shirt, a man who wore . . . tinted glasses.

“Glory, thank God. Could you see what's going on in the dressing room? The same couple has been in the left one for way too long and don't get me started about the noises coming from there.” Lacy, who had three customers in line, looked pretty frayed around the edges. She probably hadn't even noticed the man with the glasses.

I felt a bump against my thigh. My dogs had sure noticed. Valdez nudged me on his way for a closer look, Will right beside him. I moved in to see if I could read the man's mind.

“No! Stop him!” A scuffle, screams and one of the soccer moms had glasses guy on the floor.

“Hah! I haven't sat through three boys taking karate lessons without learning something.” She held a can of spray paint she'd plucked from his hand triumphantly over her head. Applause broke out. My dogs barked and leaped on top of the man who had been struggling to get free. Will made a perfect landing and the man squealed and grabbed his privates. When Valdez growled in his face the guy froze, actually teary eyed.

“Help! Get away from me!” The man didn't get any sympathy.

“Look at that. Black spray paint.” The crowd was getting agitated.

“We should call the cops.”

“No, man, I got a little somethin' in my pocket.”

“Cops? I'm outta here.”

“He was gonna deface that beautiful painting.” Deface. Obviously a college student.

“Not as beautiful as you, angel face. We get the dressing room next.” Horny college student.

I pushed my way to the man's side. Several people hurried out the door. That pesky cop rumor. I ripped the glasses off the man's face and took the paint can from the woman still sitting proudly on his chest. Her friend was taking her picture with her cell phone.

“Dave's never going to believe what we did at the state library convention. I told you we couldn't just go to bed after that reception, Pam.”

Oops. Not PTA. Two renegade librarians.

“This dog's not going to bite me, is he?” Pam glanced at Valdez uneasily.

Valdez stopped growling long enough to lick her cheek.

“Guess not.”

Will stepped on the man's zipper again when he started to move. Another yelp.

“Good dog.” Pam grinned and threw her arms around both dogs. “Get a picture of this, Sharon.”

I locked eyes with the art critic and saw fear and Westwood. I put him under the whammy and reached out to help Pam up.

“Thank you so much. Wow. You really saved our mural. As for you . . .” I leaned down and got in the man's face. “Get out of here and don't come back.” I sent him a mental message that had him pale and shaking. Something about ripping off body parts. Will growled at the guy's zipper, just in case the fool was unclear on what body part came off first.

“I ever see you here again, I'll press charges.” Don't ask me what charges. Intent to deface, maybe. But my carrying customers weren't the only ones who wanted to avoid law enforcement. The dogs backed off while the man got shakily to his feet and staggered to the door. My growling dogs provided an escort.

The crowd booed.

“She's lettin' him off easy. And he's movin' like some freakin' zombie. Me, I'd run like hell.”

“Forget him. The dressing room's empty.” A couple, pale and pierced, hurried toward what had apparently been turned into a love nest.

“Oh, no, you don't.” I grabbed them by their black sleeves next to the suit rack. “Attention, shoppers.” I raised my voice over the blare of rap music and all heads turned toward me. “Only one person at a time in the dressing rooms. To try on clothes. Or I'm shutting the rooms down.” There were a few groans and the flushed couple who'd apparently just emerged from the room, the girl's T-shirt on inside out, high-fived each other.

Valdez sent me a mental message that Westwood's man was gone, and I breathed my first easy breath since I'd come inside.

“Check out the vampire.”

I slapped a hand over my mouth before I realized a new arrival pointed at the wall. I kept an eye on the dressing room situation and offered the librarians a generous discount. After that I helped Lacy sack and ring up sales. Business really was brisk, especially for the sixties skirts and Nehru jackets, black, of course.

During a short lull, I hit the Internet and the TV station's Web site. Oh, great, my little segment was featured. Had I really flashed fang at all of Austin? No, scratch that, the Internet is a wonderful thing. I'd flashed fang at the whole damned world.

I hit enter and the segment started. They'd reprised the part where Flo and I, wrapped in bed linens, dripped in front of the burned out shop. Flo, my “partner,” leaned against me while I ranted about a hate crime. Then Donna, looking perky in her green blazer, stood in front of the freshly painted store, the neon Vintage Vamp's sign above her.

“As you can see, the store is back in business.” A customer pushed open the door and Donna followed. The camera spent less than thirty seconds panning the racks of clothes, hats, accessories and vintage knickknacks before stopping at the now-famous mural.

I braced myself. Oh, yeah, there I was, in a skirt and blouse I was selling just as soon as I could run upstairs and get them. Could I look any dumpier? The tiny bit of cleavage helped, but the full skirt did my hips no favors and that print . . . Damn, but I'd never noticed the design was horizontal.

I handled Donna's questions okay—my opinion. And that toothy grin was an unfortunate habit when I'm nervous. So when I got a whiff of the cameraman . . . Yep, fang, just a hint, but undeniable. Thank God the whole “rat” riot had been cut out. Instead we were back on the sidewalk out front, Donna under the sign again.

“So you see, folks, this business may be simply a vintage clothing store where you can find everything from poodle skirts to zoot suits, or a hangout for vampires. No, don't laugh. Vampires have been the center of bestselling novels”—she waved a hand toward the shop and the mural inside—“art and movies. Why, if they're just a figment of someone's overheated imagination? I didn't see any Dracula capes, but, no matter what the owner claims, you can't deny the message that mural is sending. Vampires welcome here.” Donna gave the camera a full-on intense “I'm your woman who'll get the truth” look. “We'll be keeping an eye on the situation. You can count on Donna Mitchell, Channel Six News.”

“Well, that wasn't so bad.” I looked back at Lacy who'd stopped straightening stock to peer over my shoulder. “Did you see . . .” I leaned close and whispered, “Fang?”

“Naw. Well, maybe just a glimpse. Almost like a trick of light. The reporter didn't even mention it.”

“Exactly. And she would have, don't you think?” I looked around. “No one's come in trying to check my bicuspids so that's a good sign.”

Lacy smiled. “Great publicity. Even the gay angle with you and Flo as ‘partners.' How cute was that?”

“Thanks. Flo and I are just precious together. We should change the name of the building. Slingback Mountain.” I sighed, not sure I was ready to be queen of the local vampires. No, wait, Freddy already had that title. Can you tell I was exhausted?

“That reporter's nuts. Dracula capes? So cliché. My boss is nothing if not fashionable.” Lacy gave me a reassuring smile. She'd been on duty forever and still had all day Saturday ahead of her. Fortunately she seemed tireless. I'd just popped a black crocheted hobo bag into a sack when I finally asked a customer a question that had been bugging me.

“Did all of you see the mural on the TV Web site?”

“Oh, no. There was a segment on the tube. The weekend wrap-up at midnight. Right before the
Saw
film festival. When
Saw 3
came on, I'd had enough. So we decided to check out the mural.” The girl with silver nose, eyebrow and lower lip studs smiled. “Cool place and I love that you're open all night. I usually can't get Ronnie to shop.” She glanced at her boyfriend who wasn't shopping but had decided to pet a silently suffering Valdez. Will sat in front of the window, staring out with body language that clearly said “Don't mess with me.”

“Well, please come back. I'm sorry you had to wait in line to pay. A crowd this big this late is unusual.” I handed her the sack and the receipt. “Mugs and Muffins is open all night too. You can always stash Ronnie next door with a coffee while you shop.”

“Excellent. Maybe I'll bring my mom back tomorrow. She'd love the old purses too.”

“We close at midnight on Saturday and reopen a little after midnight on Tuesday morning.” I grabbed a paper from a stack that had shrunk considerably during the night. “Here, take a flyer, hours are on there.”

I checked out the dwindling crowd. It was getting close to dawn and I could feel it in my usual sinking spell. I tapped Lacy on the shoulder.

“Think you can handle things alone until Melanie gets here later?” Melanie, our mortal worker, helped Lacy handle the day crowd, especially on Saturdays.

“Sure. Time flies when you're busy.” Lacy leaned closer. “That a Westwood goon with the spray paint? I'm sorry but I didn't even notice the glasses. I was just too busy.”

“That's okay. We handled him. And busy is good. Great.” I gestured toward the door. “I made sure that particular goon won't be back.”