Bitten to Death

Chapter Twenty-One

Tombstones and werewolves crowded Patras Cemetery, which had been terraced out of the side of a hill. The stones smacked you right in the face. The Weres I could only sense as Dave pulled into the street just north of the area. The three of us got out because we never could’ve driven through like we might have at home. The plots had been placed too close together, and they all consisted of raised marble rectangles big enough to contain at least four bodies. Burial must be a group gig in this part of the world.

For a moment Dave and I stared at the layout, random as a fast-growing city, sprouting wildflowers and cypress trees, large crosses, arched stones, and a couple of shed-sized monuments that proved some monied mourners hadn’t realized you can’t take it with you.

Krios and Phoebe emerged from behind a miniature Parthenon, and when they saw how slowly Trayton was moving, met us near the entrance. Phoebe, wearing orange eye shadow and a matching hair band to celebrate Trayton’s return, threw her arms around him and whispered something in his ear that made him clutch her so close that she squealed.

Now that we’d put some distance between ourselves and the Trust, the pack stood out clearer for me, as if my Sight had gained focus. Krios had brought them all and distributed them behind some of the larger monuments, among the shrubs and stoic angel statues that gave the area the feeling of a chronically depressed park.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” Phoebe told Trayton. She sniffed. “Though you do smell kind of funny.”

“Actually,” I said, “that would be me.”

He buried his nose in her hair. “I missed you.” Then he kissed her. Which meant that when he came up for air he was also wearing a layer of glossy orange lipstick. None of us said anything while Phoebe wiped it off with the hem of her denim jacket. Then Krios put his hand out. I shook it first.

“Thank you for everything,” he said, a sincere smile on his face, though I could tell he badly wanted to pucker from my odor.

“You’re welcome,” I said as he and Dave shook. “We’ve got to be going though. Lots to do.”

Krios reached into the pocket of his corduroy blazer. “If there’s ever anything you need from me . . .” He showed me a stiff white card. Which said he was, in fact, a librarian at the local university. Can I call ’em, or what? “I would give it to you, but considering your current residence, I would prefer it if you would just program the number into your phone.” He smiled wryly. “Safer for my pack that way.”

I gave him the same line I’d handed the werebear. If they could all just hold off until we left, I didn’t care if they started a sure-as-Shootin’ Southern-style feud and ended up blowing each other’s heads off with their twelve-gauges. “Other than that, I think we’re square.”

“Please,” he said. “You never know when a friend on the outside could be helpful.”

“I guess that’s true,” I said as I plugged his number in.

“One of the certainties of life,” he said gravely as he and Phoebe led Trayton to their waiting sedan.

I felt the pack following them as a lessening of the tension in my shoulders and at the back of my neck. They’d done a good job blending in. I hadn’t seen a single one of them. Which made this an excellent location for hiding. I turned to Dave. “We should check this place out. I know we were going to use the Kastro, but this spot may be an even better one to lure Samos back to later tonight.”

He gave the layout his military stare. “I’ll buy that. But, remember, he’s going to have some vampires with him, not to mention Blondie and his buds. How are the two of you going to deal with all that muscle given that the only help you brought was a washed-out soldier?”

“First of all, you’re not washed out. You’ve just been beaten against the stones until your threads are starting to strain.” I hesitated. Dammit, there was never any good time to discuss this, was there? You just kind of had to jump and hope he didn’t smack you in the teeth on your way in.

I cleared my throat. “Speaking of which, I just wanted to say I’ve been trying to imagine what it was like for you. Living under the Wizard’s spell. All I can really come up with is how much it must’ve sucked. Like growing up with Mom and Dad, only without the possibility of turning eighteen.”

I looked at him from under my lashes. Noted him chewing the inside of his cheek, the way he did when deeply stressed.

Finally he said, “You know, when I was in that place, it wasn’t all bad. I found out I liked not having to think or be responsible. Not caring.” Dave stole a look at me, his face paling, as if he’d just confessed to murdering his best friend. “And when I came back. When you saved me, my pain-in-the-ass life sort of crashed on me, avalanche style. But I knew I shouldn’t feel that way. Not for a second. And at the same time I was shit-eating humiliated that I’d basically become a terrorist’s slave. Me, Dave Parks, American stud. Special Ops commander. Hero to men. Red-hot lover to women. At least,” he said, before I could make some snide remark, “that’s how I liked to think of myself.”

We stood there in silence for maybe a minute before I said, “Wow, you are fucked up.”

He punched me, soft enough to let me know he got it, his half grin backing up the gesture. “Thanks for the support.”

I shrugged. “Nobody’s ever survived what you’ve been through. Ever. So who’s to say what you’re feeling is wrong? Or even abnormal? The fact that you’re still fighting is enough for me. Just, you know, don’t try to do it alone anymore. I’ve driven that route. It’s a dead end with straitjackets and little cups full of pills waiting to snag you on the turnaround. Okay?”

He nodded. “Duly noted.”

“And since we’re talking about fighting, what do you say we figure out a way to even up the odds between ourselves and Samos’s crew?”

“Only if you promise to shower first.”

“That’s a given.”