One Foot in the Grave: An Almost Zombie Tale (25 page)

That surprises me. I thought hell hounds and vamps would get along great.

“Is it far from here?” Andrew asks.

The lich raises one leathery eyebrow. “Have plans I don’t know about?”

“Uh, no. Just curious.”

“It’s in Woodstock,” Nacelles says.

I giggle. You’d think Woodstock would be an area of hippie ‘stuck-in-the-60’s type people, but it’s not. It’s pretty normal. At least, until you get into Towne Lake Hills North. They have million dollar homes and stuff. It’s crazy.

“How’re we going to get there?” I know it’s mundane to ask such a silly question, but someone would notice us. Nacelles is like 6’14” and super leathery, Andrew looks dead, and I’m, well, me.

Nacelles smiles at me. “We’ll take my car, of course.”

I didn’t even know he could drive.

Forty-Two:

Vampire, Meet Thy Maker.

I stare at the car, and grin. It’s a full blown, honest to God hearse. As in a vehicle to transport the dead. I do like Nacelles’ sense of humor.

“Ummm...where are we supposed to sit?” I ask. After all, this thing was not meant for vertical passengers.

“There are seats in the back,” Nacelles says. “I had it converted.”

Well, that’s a relief. I do not like the idea of lying in a coffin built for two, or some other weirdness. Andrew and I sit on the super plush seats, which sink down even as they cradle us. This must be what it’s like to have money to burn. I’m almost disappointed when Nacelles doesn’t slide in next to us. I don’t want his company, but I expect a driver. So maybe being rich doesn’t make up for the fact that he’s a living dead guy.

It only takes us around half an hour to get to our destination. And what a destination it is, too. We turn toward Towne Lake Hills North and it’s like we’re in Wonderland for adults. There are huge mansions; ginormous manicured yards and cars I’ve only ever seen in magazines. They line the driveways; Lamborghinis, Ferraris, even the kind of car James Dean crashed and died in. I mean, I’m talking crazy rich.

I’m not sure why, but I’m sure the house we’re going to wind up at will be like the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland. It’s not. It’s a modest (considering what I’ve seen, anyway), castle. That’s right, the Master Vampire, or whoever built it, decided a castle was the way to go...in the middle of Corporate Georgia. That takes some guts. And some very solid cash flow.

Nacelles parks the car on the cobblestone drive and turns in his seat. “Andrew and Isis, let me do the talking. Mikeal isn’t particularly tolerant of outsiders.”

Ummm...why’m I here, again? I nod. I’m not super excited by the idea of discovering whether a Master vamp can kill me...I’m already pretty sure he can.

“What’re you going to say to him?” Andrew asks.

The lich sighs. “I plan on asking him to make an exception to his rule. I plan on asking him to spare your life.”

“Do you think it’ll work? I mean, will he do it?” I open the car door and get out, because it doesn’t look like valets are going to come and escort us to the throne room, or wherever. I don’t know. This whole thing just keeps getting weirder and weirder by the minute.

We trail Nacelles up to the huge wooden doors, where there’s an honest-to-gosh bell pull instead of a doorbell. I’m not sure how it’s not moldy and nasty, considering it’s made of purple velvet, but it’s not. Looks brand new. I yank on it, and hear...nothing. Huh?

“I don’t think this works,” I say.

“It works,” Nacelles replies.

“Then why don’t I hear anything?”

“Mikeal soundproofed his home.”

The whole house? Errr...castle? “Why would someone even do that?”

“To contain the screams during parties,” the lich says, as if it’s not the creepiest thing in the whole, entire world.

Andrew blanches. I mean, whiter than white. Whiter than me. Pasty, even.

Oh my gosh. “And we’re going in here? On purpose?” This sounds like a super lousy idea, the more I think about it.

Nacelles raises an eyebrow. “Do you have a better option?”

Darn.

Andrew takes a deep breath. It’s weird, watching his chest rise and fall with unnecessary air. But I guess I can do the same. It’s all a matter of perspective. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

At that exact minute, the door swings open. Not of its own accord, or I might’ve run screaming down the driveway, Andrew be…darned.

“You must be here to see my dad.” There’s a kid standing there. A super cute red-head, around twelve years old, who looks like God took a salt-shaker and sprinkled him with freckles.

“We’re here to see Mikeal,” Nacelles replies. “May we come in?”

The kid opens the door wider. “Yeah, come on in. He’s in the pool out back.”

Of course he is. Because that’s what rich vampires who have kids do after dark...go swimming. Now that I can see the kid better, I see he’s dressed in swimming shorts and his hair is spiky and wet looking.

“How’d the vamp get a kid?” I ask. Unfortunately, I forget about what great hearing vampires have and it’s the kid who answers my question.

“Didn’t they teach you sex-ed in school?”

Ewww…But, since I’m me, I don’t just stop; I segue right into another ‘none of your darn business’ question. “What about your mom?”

“Isis, enough!” Nacelles reprimands me. “You’re being rude.”

“Nah,” the boy replies. “Everyone new here asks. It’s no big deal. My mom’s human. Kind of.”

“So she’s still alive?” Why can’t I just shut up?

He laughs. “Of course! She’s in the pool with Dad.” He gestures in front of him. “See?”

Yup. I see. Two French doors with stained glass are wide open, I guess to let in the night air? Right in front of us, just outside, is a massive infinity pool with only two people in it.

“Hey, Dad, some people are here to see you!” The kid sort of introduces us, then cannonballs into the pool, tucking his legs up to his chin right before hitting the water and sending a tidal wave of water racing towards us.

Nacelles raises one hand. The water just slams into the air in front of us and falls to the ground.

The man, I assume it’s the Master Vampire himself, laughs. “You need to be more devious, Stephen. Successful attacks are always planned in advance. You cannot depend on blind luck.”

Those pearls of wisdom fall on deaf ears as the kid butterflies his way across the blue expanse.

“Nacelles Caldmer, what brings you to my home?” Mikeal levers himself out of the water, and wraps a towel around his waist.

“I have a favor to ask,” the lich replies.

“What sort of ‘favor’ does a lich need from my husband?” A woman’s voice asks.

I peer at the pool and see the head and shoulders of a, I don’t know what...she looks human. Sort of. Except that her hair is kind of greenish blue and her face shimmers in the moonlight. And not in the ‘Look how healthy and wonderful her face is’ kind of way. I’m pretty sure she’s covered in little scales.

“This boy,” Nacelles propels a nervous looking Andrew forward. “Has a bounty. I would like it removed.”

“And her? Why did you bring a zombie/vampire hybrid into my household?”

“If you don’t mind, Mikeal, I would rather you discover that for yourself. What you’ll learn is worth it.”

The Master Vampire inclines his head. “We only put bounties on the mis-turned.” He glances at his son, who’s eavesdropping. “I think we should continue this inside. Kalliope, watch Stephen?”

The fishy looking woman nods and we follow the Master vampire back inside.

“He cannot drown,” Mikeal says. “But Kalliope needs to learn the finer points of acting human.” He smiles, as though the idea of having to act human is so commonplace. I don’t know. Maybe, for him, it is.

“What is she?” Yeah, I do ask it. Yeah, it’s rude. But then again, it’s me.

Mikeal glances at me. “My wife is one of the last sirens.”

I rack my brain. I know I’ve heard of them before...Oh! Wow. “Doesn’t she sing men to their death?” Yeah. I’m all class. Just ask anyone.

Nacelles glares at me, Andrew bites his lip, but our host starts to laugh. “She is quite entertaining,” he says. “Is that why you are keeping her?”

The lich’s shoulders stiffen. “She’s not my pet,” he declares. “Isis is her own person.”

Mikeal raises an eyebrow. “But not without your help.”

“No,” Nacelles agrees. “Not without my help.”

“And yet here you are, asking for help for another stray.” His glance includes Andrew, but not in a kind way. More like someone would look at a homeless dog who wandered into the house by accident, cold and hungry.

“I’m not—” Andrew starts, but the Master Vampire cuts him off with a flick of his wrist.

“You are a mistake,” he says. “Whether you will remain so or not is the only question.”

The kind guy, swimming around the pool with his family, is gone. That guy, I would’ve pegged at around 35 — 40 years old. This guy is ancient and power oozes off him in waves. I don’t like it.

Mikeal seats himself in a leather-backed chair and waves to us to take identical seats. “If I remove the bounty, there will be payment involved.”

The lich nods. “I understand.”

The vampire shakes his head. “Not from you, Nacelles. It is not your bounty I would be removing.”

“Wh—what kind of a payment are you talking about?” Andrew’s voice shakes. I don’t blame him one bit. I’m scared, too, and the Master Vampire’s not even talking to me.

Mikeal leans back in his chair. “Service,” he says. “I could use another...procurer of food.”

Andrew blanches. So do I. At least, white washes over my vision for an instant and I feel cold and clammy.

“So you want me to find you people?”

“Our human sources are already willing,” Mikeal says. “You would be transportation.” When Andrew looks confused, he continues. “You would be a driver. That is all. Just go pick them up and bring them back here. It is not that difficult.”

“For how long?” Nacelles interjects. “What are the terms of the agreement?”

“Oh, I do not know, how about a year and a day. That is pretty standard ‘fairy tale’ stuff, is it not?” Why is he looking at me when he asks that? Am I supposed to be some kind of expert?

“You are not mesmerized,” the vampire observes. “Nacelles, do you realize what you have brought me?”

“She’s here of her own free will,” Nacelles leans forward and rests what’s left of his forearms on his jean clad thighs.

“It has been a long time since I have had the pleasure of speaking to someone not under my thrall,” Mikeal states. “A very long time, indeed.”

“Dad,” Stephen pokes his head into the room. “Mom wants to know if you’re coming back out.”

The Master Vampire stands up. “I think our business is done. Stephen, tell your mother there will be extra places at the dinner table.”

I open my mouth to protest. Whatever it is they’re all eating, I doubt my food’s on the menu.

“Stephen, tell the cook we need a bowl of raw monkey brains marinated in white wine for our zombie. Are there any other special dietary considerations I do not know about?” No-one says anything. “Good.” He smiles at my amazement. “I have lived for a thousand years, Isis. You are not the first zombie I have had for dinner.”

For dinner, or to dinner? And...do I really want to know?

“So how come your wife isn’t a vampire?” I blurt, in a massive attempt to stop my own random thoughts. So instead of staying in my head, my thoughts come flying out of my mouth at light speed. Sheesh.

Mikeal stares at me for a long, silent moment before answering. “Kalliope and I married years before I turned.”

“Wow. You must love her a great deal.” Mouth, insert foot. I mean, how dumb was that?

A tiny smile tilts his mouth upward. “I am quite fond of her, yes. Over a thousand years will do that.”

Okay, I think I’ll just shut up now. If nothing else, that’ll make Nacelles happy.

“Why do you keep talking?” Andrew grabs my arm as I walk by. “What’ll happen if you piss him off with all your endless questions?”

I yank my arm away. Now that I know I can heal, I’m less concerned about losing a limb. “I babble when I’m nervous. And he’s not angry. He was smiling.”

“Nacelles wasn’t amused,” Andrew continues, trailing along behind the vampire and the lich. I keep up with him.

“Is Nacelles ever amused…by anything?” I ask.

He shrugs. “You know him better than I do.”

And isn’t that a scary thought?

Forty-Three:

Yet Another Thing to Do.

It’s a short walk to the dining room. The castle is all modern inside, or I suspect we’d be eating at trestle tables and using our fingers instead of forks. The table’s set already but there’s no one in sight. I guess lots of money buys super-efficient slaves…I mean, servants…or whatever.

“Have a seat,” Mikeal seats himself at the head of the table, where there is nothing in front of him except a tall goblet and a wine bottle. I’m 99% sure it doesn’t have wine in it. We all follow suit, scraping chairs back and sitting. Andrew’s got a similar goblet, filled, I assume, with blood. A large bowl of itty, bitty meat curls are in front of me and there’s…nothing where Nacelles seats himself. I guess he’s not eating.

“You didn’t have to wait dinner on me.”

I stare at the woman coming into the room. If a harp could speak, it would have her voice. It’s like a waterfall of melted butter. I blink. What’s wrong with me? Even at my most creative, I’ve never been a poet.

“This is my wife, Kalliope,” Mikeal smiles, as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

So that’s what a siren can do. I’m pretty sure I don’t like it.

“What’s for dinner?” Stephen asks. He bounces in his chair and grins at his mom, as if he already knows the answer.

“Sushi,” Kalliope replies. “As you well know.”

I’m riveted by her voice. It’s annoying, because what I really want to do is stare at her face. I was right about what I saw in the pool. Her face is covered entirely in tiny fish scales, which refract the light from the chandelier hanging above our heads like a diamond ring worn on a woman’s left hand. Gah. There goes the poetry again.

Mikeal leans forward, resting his elbows on the eggshell colored tablecloth. “Andrew, tell me, why should
you
be the exception to the rule?”