Cunningham, Pat - Legacy [Sequel to Belonging] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (17 page)

“Atta boy, sonny, make us feel ancient.” Gus sniffed. “At any rate, we hunted vampires back in the day. Annie and I retired and went the family route. Wally stuck it out and, um, got a little too close to his work.”

Wallace speared a slice of meat. “That’s one way of putting it.”

Colleen’s stare went to Wallace. “You were a vampire slayer?”

He grinned with his fangs out. “Still am.”

“A vampire vampire slayer? Isn’t that, well, a conflict of interest?”

“Not to me. I’m interested in staking the bastards. No conflict about it.”

Jeremy had started to squirm. “You don’t have to get all drooly,” he muttered.

“Are you a slayer, too?” Colleen asked him.

He stared at her with such revulsion, she might have been a monster herself. “God, no.”

“Scarecrow was raised in a bat nest, did he tell you that?” Wallace announced this with a flat voice and hard eyes. “He’s not too keen on my line of work.”

“They’re not all evil, really,” Jeremy said to Colleen. “It’s not all ripped-up necks and stuff like you see on TV. Most of them are decent people.” He made a sour face. “I never liked
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
. It used to give me nightmares.”

Wallace leaned over the table toward her. “Here’s the deal, sweetheart. I kill other vampires, and I drink their blood. I don’t hunt humans. Never have. The bat blood makes me different. I can eat real food. My body’s warmer than your average bat’s. I even get a heartbeat sometimes. You want to hear about the sex?”

“Not at my table,” Annie said. “Little kids eat here.”

Colleen glanced down at her half-empty plate. All of a sudden, the juices the food was soaking in appeared wholly unappetizing. She started to reach for her glass of wine. Its red hue sparked a slew of disturbing images. She put her hand in her lap.

Annie made a disgusted noise. “Well, I guess that’s it for dinner. Nice going, boys. This is why we have house rules. Now, who’s up for coffee and cheesecake?”

Gus excused himself and headed for the kitchen. Colleen heard a door swing open before Jeremy escorted her into the living room. Wallace hung back to help Annie clear the table, perhaps to atone for his atrocious manners.

Colleen no longer knew what to think. Just when she’d been coming to terms with Wallace’s existence, she got thrown another curve. The Stantons were the nicest, sanest, most nonviolent couple she knew. The people she’d been counting on to be the voice of reason were in it up to their necks.

Maybe she shouldn’t have thought about necks. It triggered mental pictures she didn’t want to deal with, not with Annie’s roast beef in her stomach. She dropped onto the couch.

Jeremy sat beside her and held her close. “You okay?”

“I don’t know anymore. The Stantons are vampire slayers?”

“Were. Past tense. Like Gus said, they retired. They don’t do that anymore.”

“I can’t imagine them doing that at all. Are we talking the whole stakes-and-crosses thing here?”

“I guess. I wasn’t part of it. This was decades ago. I’ve only known Wallace for maybe two years, and the Stantons less than that.”

Certain she’d regret it, Colleen asked, “What happened to the first Scarecrow?”

“He died,” Jeremy said. “About thirty years ago, in the same hunt where Wallace had his accident. That’s all I’m going to say. If Wallace wants you to know any more, he’ll tell you himself.”

“No hurry,” she muttered. She didn’t need any more reasons to suffer sleepless nights.

Gus entered, balancing a precarious armload of notebooks and file folders. Annie and Wallace trailed him, Annie with a tray of plates, cups, and silverware, Wallace with a coffeepot and a blueberry cheesecake.

Gus claimed the easy chair across from the couch and dumped his load of papers onto the end table beside it. “Okay, kiddies, gather ’round. It’s story time. Tonight’s thrilling tale of mystery is entitled, ‘Why is this innocent young lady under attack by vampires?’”

“Maybe because she’s not so innocent?” Wallace suggested in a mutter.

“Maybe you should keep a civil tongue in your head until all the facts are known.” Annie dished up slices of cheesecake while Wallace poured coffee. “Let’s kick off with Wally offering a blanket apology to everyone in advance. That’ll save us some time.”

“It’s my job to be suspicious of people.” He filled Colleen’s cup and offered it to her along with a fangless smile. “No offense.”

She accepted the coffee silently and used it to wash down the acid retort on her tongue. Jeremy hugged her against him and made a face at Wallace. Wallace ignored him.

Annie cut herself a generous slice and sat in a rocking chair with it. Wallace didn’t bother with either coffee, cheesecake, or seats. He remained standing, the better to pace. When he didn’t pace he was utterly still in that uncanny way of his. Colleen didn’t want to look at him because she found it unnerving. She also found she couldn’t help herself.

“Our story begins,” Gus said, “about twenty-odd years ago, give or take a few. I suspect it starts even earlier, but we’ll get to that in a minute. I need to gather data and establish bona fides. Colleen, you were raised in a commune, you said? The Woods and the Waters?”

She nodded. “They weren’t anything outstanding. A bunch of hippies trying to recreate the sixties. A back-to-nature thing.”

“Somebody seems interested. Wally, I looked into those abductions you mentioned. Theresa Lake we already know about, and Colleen admitted she knew her. I got info on the other two. Carrie Oaks and Kitsune Mori. Both twenty-five, both born in Lamont, California. Then there’s a gap for the first several years before they turn up in foster care. Is your spider sense tingling yet?”

“Kit?” Colleen sat up. The name was unusual enough to stick in her edited memories. The vision of a bright-eyed Asian girl with a sunny smile popped into her head. “I think you’re right. I think I knew her. We called her Kit, or sometimes Foxy. Her name meant fox in Japanese.”

“How many kids did you grow up with?” Gus asked. “How many were at the commune?”

“Not that many. A dozen or more. I don’t really remember. I blocked a lot of it out.”

“Because of how it ended?”

Colleen fell silent. She noticed Wallace had gone unnaturally still again, watching her intently. “It’s okay,” Jeremy murmured in her ear. “You talk when you’re ready.”

“We’ll get back to that one,” Gus decided. He flipped through his papers. “I’ve got a list here of the members, the survivors and, um, the rest. The authorities reported eighteen children, all under the age of twelve. And all—” He consulted the paper again then looked pointedly at Colleen. “Female.”

“What, no guys?” Wallace said. “What was this, one of those New Agey chick communes? We’re sick of men, so we’re moving to the woods, that kind of thing?”

“I never thought about that before,” Colleen said. “No. There weren’t any boys. I remember when the Brenners introduced me to Michael, my foster brother. I remember thinking what a weird-looking girl he was. I knew on some level boys had to exist, but I never actually met one until I was almost nine.”

“If there were no men, where’d the kids come from?” Jeremy wanted to know.

“Of course there were men,” Colleen said. “We didn’t see much of them. They came after dark, after we were in bed. They didn’t live at the commune with us. At least, I don’t think they did. I guess they must have been at work or somewhere.
Somebody
was taking care of us. Somebody paid the bills. Nobody’s mom had a real job that I can recall.”

Annie exchanged a look with Gus, like they knew more than they were letting on. “What about your dad, hon? Do you remember him?”

“No.” That she was firm on. “Mom never talked about him. I don’t think he was at the commune. Mom never pointed him out.”

“He didn’t try to get custody of you later on? You never tried to track him down?”

“How could I? I don’t even know his name. If she didn’t tell me while we were there, she sure wasn’t going to afterwards.”

Colleen’s gut roiled. They were looking at her, the way strangers always looked at her once they’d heard the story. Somehow, some way, they always heard the story, and they always gave her That Look.

“She was committed, okay? She wasn’t that stable to start with. Come on. She raised me in a commune in the woods with a horde of other slackers. Is that stable? Is that what a normal mom does with her kid? After those creeps attacked the place, she lost it completely. They put her in the nuthouse in Sacramento. She was in and out of asylums for the rest of her life. I’d go up to visit, and she wouldn’t want to see me. She said her real daughter was dead, and I was some kind of changeling. A monster. One time she came at me with a kitchen knife. You have that in your notes?”

Her outburst ended on a sob. She hid her face against Jeremy’s shoulder. His comforting arms and soothing murmurs had no effect on her misery. All this time she’d been so successful in blocking it out, and then these sweet-faced, supposedly well-intentioned new friends of hers went and dredged it up. For what? What did any of this have to do with vampires trying to kidnap her?

Annie’s hands joined Jeremy’s on Colleen’s back and shoulders. She perched her middle-aged spread on the arm of the couch. “I’m sorry, hon. We’re not trying to rake you over the coals here. We’re trying to help. To do that, we have to know everything.”

“You didn’t need to know that,” Colleen mumbled into Jeremy’s shoulder. “You didn’t have to dig it up.”

“We didn’t,” Gus said. “It was in Allen’s notes. Most of the survivors ended up in psychiatric wards. We didn’t see your name on the roster, so we needed you to double-check. Stupid me, I forgot you’re adopted. Of course your current name’s not on here.”

“Where’d you get a list?” Wallace said.

“I didn’t. Allen had the list. I got everything when he died. His library, his case files, the tabs he kept on other slayers’ cases. Just because he couldn’t take the field himself doesn’t mean he didn’t follow the scores.”

Colleen lifted her head away from Jeremy enough to ask, “Allen?”

“Our mentor,” Annie said. “Dr. Allen Neuman. He was a vampire slayer turned psychotherapist. Specifically, our therapist.” She indicated Wallace, her husband, and herself. “He trained us and made us a team.”

“The Wizard,” Gus added. “He was the real Giles of our group. He even looked a little like the actor, except he had a Midwestern accent. I went through his notes after Wally called, to see if anything like this might’ve happened before.” He tapped his finger on the cover of a thick file folder. “He had quite a bit on the Woods and the Waters, much to our surprise.”

“Why?” It came out close to a wail. Colleen didn’t care. “Why would anybody care about some stupid commune?”

Annie patted her arm. “We were hoping you could tell us.”

“Well, I can’t. I don’t remember anything. I grew up in the woods with a bunch of hippies until the neighbors came along and burned us out. That’s all I know. For God’s sake, I was eight years old.”

She’d barely sobbed out the last word when Wallace appeared before her. She didn’t see him move. She simply blinked, and he was there. He used a tone he probably thought was sympathetic. “We really hate to do this to you, sweetheart, but you’re all we’ve got. Maybe that commune wasn’t as innocent as you remember. Survivalists like to hide out in the woods, too. So do homegrown militias and terrorists. Maybe your dad was David Koresh, and that’s why your mom wouldn’t talk about him. What about those guys? The mystery men who only showed up at night?”

“Yeah,” Jeremy said. Realization dawned in his voice. “Who else do we know only shows up at night?”

Colleen had already leaped ahead of him. Her childhood memories churned within her, sharpened by their prodding. Wallace’s superhuman speed brought it all to the fore. The daddies at the commune had moved just like Wallace—silent, graceful, given to sudden bursts that turned them into blurs. They even smelled like him. Their scents had held those same undercurrents of blood.