Page 14 of Good Vampires Go to Heaven

But he wasn’t buying that. “Darlin’, you have as much chance of findin’ that cave dungeon as a one-legged lady at an ass-kicking contest.”

“Charming!” she murmured at his word choice.

Beau just grinned, took her by the hand and led her down the deserted corridor, looking right and left to make sure no one saw them. Once, he yanked her into a niche until two imps came tumbling by, talking enthusiastically about going to a game room. Regina didn’t want to think about what games they might be playing.

Regina could probably handle two imps on her own. Imps were the weakest of all demons. If they had been mungs or haakai, that would be a different story. Even if these two imps were lower-level devils, it was best not to draw their attention. So, they waited, and Regina became aware of Beau’s musky male scent, not unpleasant except for the sulfurous undertones.

After at least fifteen minutes of travel along the twists and turns, steps, and creaky iron doors, they came to the cave where Zeb was being held. Along the way, they’d seen other caves and other long-held victims whose conditions were beyond pitiful. It made Regina feel guilty that she just passed them by, but she couldn’t help everyone, and, really, demons deserved what they got. Didn’t they? Most of them anyway.

Craven was indeed fast asleep from Grimelda’s potion, but Zeb’s eyes were wide open.

“You again?” he said. “So I wasn’t dreaming when I saw you last night?”

“No, you weren’t dreaming, but you’ll wish you were if you call me Satan’s sister again.”

Zeb grinned, or tried to with his raw, blood-seeping lips. “I know who you are now. A vangel. Regina the Witch. I saw you one time at . . .” He glanced behind Regina at Beau who was examining some of the torture implements. “. . . at the castle.”

She nodded, understanding that he didn’t want to give away any details about the vangel headquarters, even to a Lucipire who appeared to be helping her.

“Why are you here?”

“To rescue you.”

“Lord help me!”

“You better hope the Lord is on your side,” she snapped.

“And the old witch who gave Craven the beer?”

“That was Grimelda. She’s helping me, along with Patience Allister who’s standing guard with her at the tunnel entrance. And Beauregard Doucet.” She motioned toward Beau who was gawking at the walls where moving pictures were being shown of Zeb kissing a woman, with two laughing children tugging on their knees to be picked up, a loop of images being repeated over and over. She would have liked to look closer herself. Zeb appeared to be a really good kisser.

Beau shook his head as if to clear it (Regina did, too) and said to Zeb, “We’ve howdied but ain’t shook hands yet.”

There was the thing! In the short time Regina had come to know Beau, he had spouted enough Cajun colloquialisms to fill a book, one hokier than the other, even in the midst of dire danger. Did he deliberately try to appear dumb as a rock?

“The Cajun,” Zeb said in recognition. Apparently, he’d been exposed to a few of Beau’s sayings, as well. Then Zeb turned back to Regina. “Whose half-brained idea was it to engage three witch Lucipires to help you? They aren’t called the Crazy Coven for nothing.”

Well, that was rude. “Three witches do not a coven make,” she remarked.

“We’re recruiting,” Beau said defensively, “but not everyone can be a witch, ya know.”

“I know.” I really do.

“Besides, we witches have a bad rep. All that toad’s feet and eyes of newt crap.”

Zeb interrupted. “Excuse me, but are you two here to rescue me or engage in witchy chitchat? I don’t care if you join the Crazy Coven or the Book of the Month Club, just get me the hell out of here.”

“If I were you, Zeb, I wouldn’t be knocking Beau, and Patience, and Grimelda.” Or me. “We need all the help we can get.” She winked at Zeb, behind Beau’s back, to indicate she had no intention of bringing those three with them. Zeb didn’t seem to notice. He was too engrossed, painfully so, in his own motion pictures. Now, the children were gone, and he was doing more than kiss the woman. Aside from being a good kisser, Zeb was also clearly a good . . . well, never mind!

“Why didn’t Vikar or one of the VIK come?” he asked. The seven Sigurdsson brothers comprised the VIK. “If they think I’m worth rescuing, why didn’t they come themselves?”

“Uh, they were busy.”

He narrowed his eyes . . . well, the one not swollen shut . . . at her. “They’re not coming,” he deduced with a sigh of disappointment.

“Not right away.”

Beau snickered, but when she shot him a dirty look, she saw him still staring at the walls, like a pervert. And why not? He was a demon; perversion came naturally.