Biting Nixie (40 page)

“Dirk! The festival's been over for hours. The bands were done days ago! Why were you still playing?”

“‘Ooo 'old 'ee 'oo 'ay,” he said in a voice thick from disuse. His swollen lips made the consonants into mush.

“What?”

“'oo,” he said, pointing at me. “'old,” making a talking motion with one hand. “'ee,” pointing at himself. Then he just pointed at the sax, lying on the stage.

“Me?” I said, getting it. “I told you to?”

When he nodded tiredly, I thought back. I'd asked him to cover for me, sure. But what exactly had I said that Dirk would still be playing days later…shit.

Wing it until I get back.

I had never come back.

Julian and I had been so busy chasing Lestats, protecting the blood, and protecting the festival that I had never come back.

And Dirk went on winging it.

“Oh, Dirk, honey!” I sat next to him on the stage, put an arm around him. “You must be exhausted.”

He nodded mournfully.

“I know just what'll take care of that.” I dragged him to his feet. “Let's go put something cool on those lips.”

“'ere?”

“Nieman's Bar.” When he perked up, I knew I had a winner. And hell, I could use the amnesia.

 

 

 

I was pleasantly wasted by sunset. When Granny Butt came to dance I barely even noticed. I did swivel slightly on my stool, to watch the door. Sun was down, now. Any moment. Any moment
he
would come to say goodbye. Maybe he would even come in the limo. We could do a lot of goodbying on the way to O'Hare.

Two hours later I was totally crunk. Julian had not come.

“I don't care,” I repeated to whoever would listen. “He's just a stupid shrink-wrapped shark. A vacation fuck. I don't care he didn't say goodbye. And I especially don't care I didn't get goodbye sex. Buddy, gimme a refill.”

“That's your fourth pitcher, Nixie.” Buddy was sweeping up after Granny's latest promenade knocked all the peanuts to the floor.

“So? I'mn-not goin' anywhere. Gimme a refill.”

“Why don't you get a little fresh air first?” Buddy gave me a sympathetic look.

Sympathy, because a snarky lawyer stood me up. Skewer me and call me shish kabob, why don't you? “I wanna refill!”

Buddy's answer was to quietly take my glass and pitcher and put it in the washer.

“Fine. No tip.” I slapped a few yuppie food stamps on the bar, to cover both me and Dirk, who was still anesthetizing. I swung off my barstool and stomped away.

Only to find out I didn't have my hoodie and jacket. Nothing spoils a dramatic exit like not exiting. When I finally found them ten minutes later (groping blindly like a Ph.D. in stupid), I left quietly.

It was dark out but no one cared. No one was going to sneak up on me and inform me in that highly aggrieved tone that I should not be out alone at night. I blinked rapidly. I was glad! I was glad oppressive Daddy was gone. I was…fuck.

I fell back against the brick of Nieman's. My breath huffed out. I was not glad. I missed him. Only a few hours, and I missed Julian Emerson so much it was like a knife in my chest.

“There you are.”

The voice was female. I peered into the wet mists. Wiped my eyes with an angry swipe. Elena strode up to me.

“What are you doing here?” She took a sniff. “Have you been drinking?”

“I
was
drinking. Buddy cut me off.”

“Just in time. How are you going to enjoy the party if you're drunk?”

“Party? What party…the mayor?” It occurred to me the mayor must have put together a shindig for the people who worked the festival. Strange that it was on a Monday night. But maybe that's the only time he could get caterers to come. “No thanks. I don't wanna drink bad wine and eat pusballs.” I stumbled toward home. My empty home, with no vampires in the basement…or in my bed.

Elena hooked my elbow. We spun like a mini merry-go-round, with me as the tiny pony. “Whoa!” She caught me by the shoulders. “You're drunk already, aren't you? Why?”

“Why?” I practically bleated it. “I'll tell you why. And it has nothing to do with that hoagy lame-ass lawyer you brought in who turned out to be neither hoagy nor lame-ass.”

Elena marched me across the street. “You mean Julian?”

“It has nothing to do with him! Just because not-hoagy not-lame-ass dipped out without even a poke at goodbye sex—”

“Julian hasn't gone anywhere.”

“But…but…” Finally I managed, “He was packing.”

“Well of course,” Elena said. “That's what you do when you move.”

“He's moving?” I blinked, my brain apparently still on daylight saving time. “Emerson's moving?”

“I thought you knew.”

“You mean…he's moving in with you and Bo?” Was it possible that Julian was staying in Meiers Corners?

But before I could even get a single hope up, Elena said, “Let me explain something.” She dragged me into a nearby doorway (it was the local comic book shop, closed for the night) and propped me up against the door. Casting a glance around her and apparently seeing no one, she said, “You need to house at least six human donors for each vampire. Our household is full. So Julian's starting his own.”

“Joy and rapture.” Julian was starting a “household” in Boston. A household with sexy Julian and his human minions. Bye, Nixie. Hello, minions. Minions…and sex slaves too, no doubt. “How kewl. Another nest of vampires.”

“Nest of…certainly not!” Elena looked almost insulted. “A household is more like a co-op.”

“A co-op, uh-huh.”

Elena knew sarcasm when she heard it. “No, really. Good-guy vamps protect humans from rogues. In exchange, humans give the vampires the blood they need.”

“Sure. And sex has nothing to do with it.” I pictured Julian surrounded by his new “donors”. Six lovelies, his mouth at their throbbing arteries…oh, sure sex had nothing to do with it.

“It's not about sex, Nixie! Good grief, what has Julian been telling you?”

“Come on. Why would anyone want to get bled, if not for the sex?”

Elena's eyes widened in shock, then narrowed dangerously. “I'll tell you why.
Fear
.” She ticked up her index finger, directly in my face. “My sister Gretchen was attacked by a vampires. They
killed
her husband. She feels safer at Bo's.”

“Oh. That makes some sense. But—”

“
Security
.” Elena raised her voice and ticked up a second finger. I had to turn my face not to get my nose roto-rooted. “Rogues often raid funeral homes for blood. Josiah Moss has to live with Stark just to stay in business.”

“But—”

“
Tradition
.” Another finger and a very dirty look. “Daniel Butler grew up in a vampire household. It's his way of life.”

I couldn't let that one pass. “Puh-leeze! Butler ‘donates' blood because his father did? How medieval is that?”

“Householding's been going on since Victorian times. Earlier. Think castles and manor houses. Hasn't changed much since then.”

Huh. Daniel Butler really was a butler.

“There weren't very many households, up until recently. But lately, the number of rogues has skyrocketed.”

“Because…?”

“No one knows, though we have some theories.” Elena shrugged and stepped back, finally out of my face. “But, bottom line, it means we need more protection. So Julian's starting a new household.”

“In Boston.” I said it out loud this time, surprised by how much it hurt. The beer had pretty much numbed everything else. Why not my
baka
heart, too?

“No, in Meiers Corners.” Elena looked surprised. “On the southwest side of town. I thought you knew.”

“But…” I should have had a joygasm. Instead I felt awful. Julian was staying. He was staying and
he hadn't told me
.

“The housewarming party's tonight at eight.” Elena tugged on my arm. “C'mon. We need to put a move on or we'll be late.”

“No!” I jerked away. “Not going nowhere.” Why wouldn't Julian tell me he was staying, unless
he didn't want me anymore
? I was no longer numb, just heavy. My legs, my heart…my head felt like a sixty-seven Chevy. I let it hang. “I don't think I'm invited.”

“Of course you're invited.” Elena tugged harder. “Now let's get going before all the good party eats are gone.”

“The party,” said a cultured baritone, “was
supposed
to be a surprise.”

Julian! My head rose like a dying plant given a deluge of water. Or maybe my head was just attached to my heart. “What the hell, Law Boy? Where do you get off packing like you're leaving and not saying goodbye and then not even leaving—” Anger burned off the last of the alcohol.

He grabbed me and kissed me. “I love you too.”

Damn. My lips flapped but nobody was home.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Julian repeated, his eyes intent on mine. “A
good
surprise.”

“I thought you were gone.” Forever, my heart added.

“I apologize. No, I'm sorry. I thought you knew I couldn't leave without”—and here he rubbed his delectable hips against me in a blatantly sexy motion—“at least one more time.”

“Well, what do I know? Maybe I wasn't that special.”

“
Not that special
?” Julian put me at arm's length, a flabbergasted expression on his face. “I can't even begin to explain how much you mean to me.” He shot a look at Elena. “At least not here.” He raised one eyebrow suggestively. Like he would do some explaining later…lots of hot, wet explaining. “Anyway, I have a present for you.”

I perked up immediately. “Present?”

“At home.”

“Okay.” I set off toward Elena's.

“
Our
home.”

My stomach dropped. “Um…
we
have a home? As in, you and me?”

“Yes.”

“As in, four walls and a roof and a yard for the dog to play?”

“Yes.”

“As in, mortgage and responsibility?”

“It's paid for,” Julian said. “And it's more of a multi-family dwelling.”

“Oh, goody. All of the responsibilities and none of the conveniences.” Flippantly, I added, “How can we have sex in the backyard with the neighbors looking?”

“Privacy hedge.” The tips of his fangs peeked out. Ooh.

Elena crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “Are we going or not? I want to see what you've done with the place. And I especially want to see Nixie's present. Is it sparkly and ring-like?”

“No.”

“Oh. Well, then I at least want to see what you've done with the place.”

 

The “house” turned out to be two side-by-side townhouses, four units each. A driveway separated them, leading back to a parking lot with garages. The buildings were two-storied, only the second story looked more like a roof. Shingles came all the way down the wall, and only a few small windows clued that it wasn't actually an attic. Fortunately, picture windows on the first floor made the rest look open and inviting.

Elena eyed the setup critically. “Enough room for at least fourteen donors. That's good. But if you're in one building how will you protect the people in the other?”

“The buildings are connected at the basement level. There are a couple more apartments down there.”

“Oh! You're taking on two lieutenants?”

“Since I'll be out most nights, yes.”

“You'll be out?” I thought he'd bought the place, decided to stay here, because he wanted to stay with me. Where was he going?

Julian smiled at me like he knew what I was thinking. “Guns and Polkas' lead groupie.”

That made my panties twinkle. “Or Guns and Polkas' lead viola da gamba.”

“Only if you add sixteenth-century bransles to your repertoire.”

“Sure, if you wear your twenty-first century leathers.”

Julian laughed out loud at that, surprising me. “Deal.”

A door banged open. Bo leaned out, a bottle of beer in one hand. “Hey you guys! Your party's already started. Get in here!”

“Parties wait for no man.” I offered my elbow to Julian.

“Or vampire.” He took it and escorted me in.

The front room was crowded with bodies. It looked like Bo and Elena's entire apartment building had shown up, along with half of Nieman's. Julian introduced me to a few new people. An older couple with teenage sons named Mr. and Mrs. Hinz. Two young men, Richard and Andrew, who held each other and giggled.

“My donors,” Julian explained.

“Wow.” I yoinked a brew from a washtub of ice. “The mind boggles.”

“That I have donors?”

“That Doily Hartung isn't the only gay in Meiers Corners. So are they donors out of fear, security, or tradition?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Elena gave me Donors 101. She said people don't donate blood to you guys just for the sex.” Stashing the beer in a pocket I grabbed him by the ears and brought his head in close. “You
don't
, right?” My eyes weren't lasers, but I did try to bore through his head.

He blinked. “The Hinz family was attacked by rogues in Chicago. One of the Watch saved them. The Hinzes moved here because they'd heard about Bo. They were devastated that he didn't have room for them and their kids. Practically mowed me down when they heard I was starting up a household.”

“And the other two? Richard and Andrew?” Rich and Andy were young and handsome. And they probably thought Julian was as delicious as I did.

“Similar to the Hinzes. Rich and Andy had a run-in with some rogues in San Francisco. Sweetheart, my ears.”

I let go. “And your household in Boston? Won't your donors there miss you?” I tried to keep the pathetic jealousy out of my tone, but wasn't entirely successful.