13
SATAN
We’d arrivedin Oklahoma just after midnight. Luckily, the transport there had been far less violent than the trip to London. Thanks to Martha and Jane’s smaller sizes, I hadn’t been slapped in the face by a single bosom. I’d delivered us to the town just outside the Vamps compound to avoid heralding our arrival, and I’d played with time again to get us there fast. Manipulating time was always an iffy proposition. Living on the edge was the spice of life. The spicier the better as far as I was concerned.
Plus, Astrid’s mate was in peril, and his life was worth a few risks.
For the most part, I enjoyed Ethan. He was a vicious warrior with outstanding taste in office supplies. His demise wasn’t on the table. Losing him would end my favorite hobby of pilfering from him. No can do. Also, Astrid would be devastated, and I didn’t want that for her. I would never admit that, but it was the truth… as overrated as it might be. However, I was wildly put out that I wasn’t wearing a spiffy black combat outfit like everyone else. I was cursed with fucking ass-magnifying purple pantaloons. The fitted white top and the Prada flats wereacceptable, but the baggy pantaloons made it look like I’d taken a gargantuan shit in the hideous trousers.
What in the fuck had I’d been thinking when I’d stolen them? Not even Astrid’s slender body could make the tragic pants look flattering. I would be incinerating the pantaloons in the very near future.
“There it is,” Astrid hissed with venom in her tone.
We took a black Mercedes sedan that I’d expertly procured off the streets of the human town. Some dummy had left the keys in it. Like the pompous jackass in London with his wallet in his briefcase, this again, was tantamount to stealing from a baby. Too easy. Very boring.
I drove, giving me too much time to think about Lizard’s terrible plan. Didn’t matter. I was committed. Astrid was in the front with me, and Lizard and his tiny hookers were in the back.
I’d parked the stolen car under the darkness of night behind a clump of trees near the Oklahoma Vampyre compound. The sight of the D-horror stronghold filled me with disdain. It was nothing like Ethan and Astrid’s lovely home. This place, lit up with insidious red light, making it look like a bloody mirage, had seen far better days. The thick ivy covering the stone walls seemed to be choking the life out of the dreary abode. The lawn wasn’t manicured—no flowers, no bushes, no charm. The architecture was gothic and typically Vamp—a total cliché. It was, of course, in the middle of nowhere.
“Does anyone know the layout of this shithole?” Lizard asked, methodically rolling his bat in his hands.
“I do,” Astrid answered tightly. “Ten bedrooms on the second floor and ten on the third. First floor consists of a ballroom off the foyer to the right and six formal parlors down the only hallway on the left. It’s butt-ass ugly and all done in blacks and reds.”
“Electricity?” Lizard asked.
Astrid nodded. “Yep, but they’re partial to torches too. It’s a total throwback in time, just like they are.”
“Do they happen to sleep in coffins?” I asked with a chuckle, remembering Lizard’s point about mixing the dramatic up with some funny. There was no room to tap dance in the sedan so I used my wit with words instead.
“Yes,” Astrid replied.
“I was joking,” I told her with a laugh of disbelief.
“I know,” she said flatly. “I’m not.”
“How many undead jackholes live there?” Lizard questioned, wanting as many particulars as Astrid knew.
“Twenty. All old. Ancient. The Oklahoma clan is the oldest, most hardcore and stupidest in our dominion. They rarely travel so I expect most of them to be on the premises.” Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Not to mention, the imbeciles have taken the prince of the North American Dominion as their prisoner…”
“How old are they?” I asked. The older the Vamp, the stronger the Vamp.
She shrugged and shook her head. “Not exactly sure, but easily eight hundred to a thousand.”
“That could present a few problems,” I muttered.
Her lip curled. It was maniacal and delightful. “The older they are, the more satisfaction when they fall.”
“You go, guuuurrrrrl,” Martha squealed from behind us.
“That’s right!” Jane squeaked. “Them jackasses fucked around and they’re about to find out!”
Both Martha and Jane sounded as if they’d swallowed helium due to the shrinking spell. It was horrifying. Even tiny, they were still as annoying as Hell. Astrid was not annoying. However, she was wound up tight. That wouldn’t do.
Snapping my fingers, I conjured up a pint of black raspberry chip ice cream—her Kryptonite. A snack and a sugar rush would do my niece good, or at least relive her stress momentarily.
“Eat this,” I insisted, pushing ice cream into her hands along with a spoon. “No use going in on an empty stomach.”
Her smile was genuine and some of the tension left her eyes. “Thank you, Pussycat.”
