MisStaked (49 page)

"Runs Like Frightened Girl told me you were in trouble,” Joan smiled.

"It still doesn't explain how you knew I'd be here."

Joan gave her a wink. “He told me that, too."

"Who the hell is this?” Stud demanded.

"This is Joan Prancing Elk, my uncle,” Luna's look told him not to push it.

"So, who is this Runs Like Frightened Girl, your Aunt?"

Joan stuck her hand out. “No, he's my spirit guide. You must be Stud."

"What tipped you off? My hairy ass?” Stud drew back his hand quickly. “I'm not judgmental, but you're one scary whatever-you-are."

"He's just as you described him,” Joan said, turning away from the chimpanzee. “But what I have to say is important. Perhaps, it would be best if we were to get out of here first. I have my mini-van in the lot."

"Best offer I've had all week. Lead on,” Brogan said for them all.

Nobody spoke, as the aging Astro van tooled down the street. By unspoken agreement, they had decided to wait for Joan to explain his earlier statement, Stud hadn't agreed but went along with it, seeing as how the vamp was twisting his cerebral cortex. After ten minutes of driving, it didn't look like the whatsit would spill anything but a medley of Ambrosia hits, which he'd been singing non-stop since they took off. Stud saw only one option to end the awkward karaoke—he had to be the one to open his big mouth. “Look, Papa Smurf. We've had a shitty coupla days, so could you cut the claptrap and tell us what you meant back there?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought it best to wait till we got back to my place,” Joan reached over to turn off the radio.

"Thank God! One more minute of that crud and I was gonna spew,” Brogan mumbled, as he uncorked his fingers from his ears. “Not to offend you, Guy, but the seventies are best left to AM radio."

"This is really freaking me out. I know you mean well, but,” Luna said, breaking into tears.

"There, there, Luna. I know,” Joan said. “Your man's alright. Stop all your crying. Your Uncle Joan is going to help."

"Oh, Uncle Joan. I wish I could believe you, but you have no idea what we've been through."

"Yeah man, we talking bout some crazy shit. I'm talking about some shit that'd make your curlies go straight for life,” Stud said, poking his head through the seats.

"Hey, Stud. Where's D'brea? She hasn't been talking,” Brogan asked.

"Oh, she's talking a nap. She accidentally took a peek into my Bea Arthur fantasy and said she needed to rest after seeing it."

"Look, if you feel she's slipping away, let us know. Just to be on the safe side."

Stud gave him a thumbs up. “Will do."

"Can we get back to Breathred?” Luna snapped.

"He's fine, Luna. Runs Like told me to make sure I told you that,” Joan said, patting her on the knee.

"You know where he's at?” Luna cried.

"I don't, but Runs Like does."

"Then, what the hell are we waiting for? Let's go smash some heads,” Stud said before Luna could get a word out. She was too distraught to think straight, so he would take charge.

"Hold your horses. Runs Like says we can't rush into this. He sees danger in haste. We must make plans and think this through,” Joan advised.

"We don't have time to twiddle our thumbs. If we can get to Breathred before the sun sets, we can do this without having to face the vampires,” Stud snarled.

"The vampires are the least of your worries. The vampires have awakened something in your friend—something not exactly bad but something that should've stayed asleep,” Joan said.

"I'm not calling you crazy, but get real. Breathred is as gentle as a lamb. The only thing inside the geek is more geek,” Brogan interjected.

Joan pulled the van over and came to a stop. “You're wrong. Breathred is more dangerous than you know."

"And you know this for a fact?” Luna asked.

"Not me, but Runs Like says it's so, so it is."

"What could have happened to make the goob go all Anakin?” Stud asked, though he had his suspicions Breathred wasn't firing on all six cylinders.

"Runs Like saw death surrounding Breathred last night. He saw darkness, then felt Breathred give himself over to this power. The only way to stop the vampires is to stop Breathred before he gives himself over to this power completely,” Joan explained.

"Then, what are we supposed to do?” Luna asked.

Stud saw the tears were threatening to return. “Come, Luna. You have to be strong for Breathred's sake.” He put his arm around her shoulder.

"We get ready, because unless I'm wrong, you are the only one who can save him now,” Joan said, as he pulled back into traffic.

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What good is the stake, if you forget to bring the hammer?

Breathred awoke to darkness. He strained to make some sense of where he was. The whole room was a black blur in his eyes and his discomfort didn't end there. His wrists chafed under the none-too-tender embrace of the manacles Leopold had relished in imprisoning him in, before leaving at the first signs of dawn. His head ached, but it was to be expected. The coppery taste in his mouth served to remind him of the accident that had given him the bump he was sure was the source of his pain. Breathred guessed he should consider himself lucky.

After some befuddled thinking he was now sure Jessica was dead. A sad voice in the back of his brain kept telling him so. Sometimes the voice told him other things, things that scared him. Breathred tried to block it out, but the longer he ignored it, the louder it became, until finally it was the only thing he could hear.

Breathred pushed past the evil thoughts that populated his brain, remembering hearing the voice once before. It had been softer then, but he could recall it was the same voice. Reginald, Truehart's brother had been with him then. In the darkness the elder Truehart had heard it as well. He was just as certain it had driven the man mad. Breathred remembered it all too well.

With not even a window light the sparse room, Breathred tried for the hundredth time to make out something in his prison. In the end he had to give up trying. His comfort was the least of Leopold's concerns, it would seem. Breathred hadn't expected to be put up in a Five-star hotel, but a bathroom would have been nice.

Breathred knew he was going to die. The voice had told him so, repeatedly. He just hoped he would not have to meet his maker with soiled underwear. Somehow unclean undies and heaven seemed just plain wrong.

You don't have to die,
a voice whispered in his mind.

"Everyone has to die,” Breathred informed the voice, knowing he was simply talking to himself. Nobody was here with him. He was all alone. Then again, he was trapped in a vampire's dungeon. It wasn't like anybody was going to be listening in and saying, “Look at Petrifunck; he's finally lost it.” Why not go ahead and talk to himself? Breathred knew he was losing what was left of his mind. Why not have somebody to enjoy it with?

But not tonight. Let me out and I will save you,
the voice grew impatient with Breathred's delay in responding.

"Who are you?” Breathred asked. It didn't hurt to make sure there wasn't anybody in here with him.

You know who I am,
the voiced laughed.

"Elvis’ alien love child,” Breathred offered with a shy smirk. He always wanted to say something like that, but Stud always beat him to it.

No,
the voice answered in exasperation.
All right, it doesn't matter who I am. All that matters is I can help you, if you'll let me.

Breathred shook his head. “I don't think accepting help from an imaginary voice would be a good idea."

Why? Because you're afraid of what I can do? Long ago you let me in. It's time to finish what we started on that fateful day. The days of quiet submission are over. The two of us can vanquish the evil that holds you. Let me take control, and I will show you the true power that resides within you,
the voice said, its tone smooth as freshly woven silk in Breathred's ear.

Breathred didn't answer, aloud or in his mind. He didn't know what to say. After repressing these thoughts and memories for so long, he couldn't even be sure what was real anymore. The voice made sense of the holes in his memory.

Something had happened at the Shrine of Seven Veils. If Breathred gave into the voice's offer, he could find out what. Did he want to find out? This could be nothing more than his mind still playing tricks on him. He was under a great deal of stress and when you added his active imagination, it was no wonder little voices were yapping in his head. Well, he had better just wait and see. Until Breathred knew for sure, he wouldn't do anything. If that meant being a virgin sacrifice for a vampire queen, he could live with the decision. Giving in to the voice was too scary to think about when you were alone in the dark, talking to yourself.

The Java Jumper might not have been the best place to go, but Luna couldn't think of anywhere else for Uncle Joan to take them. Her place was too small. Heaven help her, she didn't think Brogan and Stud were quite ready for the Delicious One, or if they ever would be.

Luckily, the Jumper was empty, which was strange for this time of the morning. Luna chalked it up to the horrible weather. Even for Seattle, the weather was bad. Thunder and lightning flashed and raced across the sky. Rain came down in rivers, so hard you couldn't even see the end of your nose. Luna had a sinking suspicion D'brea was the ‘cause of it, but kept the opinion to herself. The lack of customers, while not great for business, afforded them the privacy they needed.

Luna looked up to see Edith heading toward them with a tray of coffees and pastries. Her stomach rumbled. It had been a long time since they last ate. The smell of coffee was almost enough to push her over the edge. She had forgotten how good the Jumper's lattes were.

"So, are you like Luna?” Brogan asked Joan, once Edith had gone back to the counter.

"Don't worry, Unc. They know all about my other self,” Luna confided, through a mouthful of cream cheese and blueberry.

"If you mean, am I one of Coyote's chosen? No,” he answered, his voice doing little to conceal his regret over the fact. “Her lineage can be traced all the way back to Coyote himself."

"He's the Indian trickster god, right?” Brogan asked before taking a bite from his own pastry.

"That is but one of his many faces. He is also the god who brought fire to the world's people. That too was a trick, but one his children appreciate."

"Look, you can sit here and talk this poo poo all day long if you want, but I want to know about Breathred,” Stud grumbled. Luna knew he meant business. He hadn't even touched his food.

"Your short friend is right. Luna's mate is who we should be focusing on,” Joan said. He reached over and patted her hand.

"What was all that mumbo jumbo about in the van about?” Stud demanded.

"Your friend is not what you think he is. Runs Like senses a darkness in him, a darkness he's fighting at this very moment."

"Bullshit!"

"Hey! This is a family place, monkey. If you can't keep that dirty mouth of yours shut, you can get out,” Edith shouted from the counter.

"He's right, Stud. I, myself, have sensed this darkness,” D'brea said. It was the first time she had spoken since they left the airport. She sounded tired. Her voice was barely a whisper from Stud's mouth.

"I still don't believe it,” Stud groaned.

"Your choice, but it doesn't change the fact,” Joan assured him.

"You said you know where Breathred is, Uncle Joan,” Luna interrupted.

"He is in a townhouse on the other side of town. Runs Like sees him cloaked in darkness,” Joan answered.

Brogan set down his coffee cup. “What about the vampires? Does your spirit guide have anything to say about them?"

"They slumber,” Joan replied.

"So, we can get past them,” Luna said.

"Yes, but it will not be easy. The place is warded against such an intrusion. The vampires expect you to try to stop them."

"I'm not expecting it to be a cake walk. All I need to know is, can we do it?” Brogan said, bluntly.

"Yes, but Runs Like advises against it,” Joan answered.

"What does he say, Uncle Joan?” Luna asked, taking him more seriously than the others.

"He says we should wait until dusk."

"You're crazy! The vampires will be awake then,” Stud exclaimed.

"Nevertheless,” Joan folded his arms over his chest, “he says moonrise is the time to strike."

"Luna, this is up to you. I'm willing to do whatever you want to do,” Brogan said.

"I don't know what to do,” she answered.

"What does your heart tell you to do?” Joan asked her.

"It tells me to run to him, but my head tells me you're right.” Tears were streaming from her eyes.

Brogan reached over to take her hand. “What's it gonna be, Kid?"

"We do like Uncle Joan said. Runs Like wouldn't deceive us. If he thinks we should wait, we wait,” she said, finally.

"Then, it's settled. We go in at dusk.” Brogan stood. “I've got to go arrange some things. Joan, can you look after these two?"

"There's three of us, Beef Cake,” D'brea interrupted.

"Excuse me. Joan can you look after these three until I get back?” Brogan corrected himself.

"Sure. They can come home with me and catch some z's. Here's the address.” Joan handed over a business card.

"The Delicious One?” Brogan smiled, in spite of his grim exterior.

"It's my shop. I have an apartment over the store. Just go around back and ring the bell. I'll buzz you up."

"Okay, I'll be there around five. That should give us enough time to get to Breathred,” Brogan said.

"If you're going to be late, just call the number on the bottom of the card. The girl on the counter will transfer the call to my apartment,” Joan told him before he left for the door.

Brogan waved but didn't answer. The rain was still blowing when he stepped out onto the sidewalk and pulled the collar of his jacket up to protect his ears against the biting cold. He trudged through the ankle-high water that was backing up from the street and overflowing onto the deserted sidewalk.