Jeaniene Frost - Destined for an Early Grave

Even though I mentally applauded the insult, I was the one who’d started this. “Mom, don’t call Annette a tramp. It’s none of your business how many people she’s banged.”

Okay, so I couldn’t be entirely magnanimous. What had Bones been thinking, having both of them under the same roof with me? Considering her centuries-long, graphic former relationship with Bones, Annette and I didn’t get along very well on the best of days. My mother and I had lots of issues despite her recent softening toward the undead, one ghoul in particular.

“Mom, nice to see you. Now, I’d like to take a real bath.”

She rose. “Everyone in the house knows not to mention where we are, so you can do whatever as long as you don’t go outside. I brought some clothes for you. They’re in the closet. Oh, and don’t turn on the television. Or the radio, and needless to say, you can’t use the phone.”

With that helpful information, she swept out. I paused for a second, then swung my legs out of bed. At least I’d get to bathe without assistance. Baby steps and all that.

After I was thoroughly bathed, groomed, and dressed, I went downstairs, where I could hear all the other voices. Mission accomplished on me not knowing where the hell I was. All I could surmise was that the house was older, though modernly refurbished, and it was on a steep cliff. The outside window had told me that. Green hills and rocks stretched as far as the eye could see, and the air smelled different. It could have been the northern Rockies, but somehow, it didn’t feel like America. Maybe Canada. Maybe not.

I decided I shouldn’t keep guessing. That would defeat the purpose, after all.

The chatter stopped with almost comical abruptness when I came into the kitchen. Five heads picked up with false nonchalance. In addition to my mother and Annette, Bones’s sire Ian was here, along with Spade and Rodney.

“Hi, everyone,” I remarked. “Is this the whole crew? Or are there more of you lurking around?”

“Oh, there’s more,” my mother began before she cried out, “Ouch! Who kicked me?”

An unladylike snort escaped me. “That would be Spade. So, I’m not even allowed to know who’s here? Why does that matter?”

“Just a few guards, Cat,” Spade replied dismissively, eyeing my mother with warning. “Nothing to bother about.”

“Fine.” If I demanded to know more, I’d probably get the blindfold again.

Ian was reclined in a chair, legs crossed at the ankles. His turquoise eyes contained a roguish gleam as he slid them to my mother.

“I missed you last night when I arrived. Lovely to see you again, poppet,” Ian drawled.

Rodney gave Ian the same warning look I did, but for a different reason. Rodney and my mother were, ah, dating. Or at least, they were the last I’d heard. Dwelling on my mother’s romantic life squicked me out, and that had nothing to do with Rodney being a ghoul.

“Leave my mother alone,” I said to Ian, glowering at him.

He smiled, unrepentant. Ian wouldn’t know how to feel remorse if his afterlife depended on it. Though he’d proven to be a loyal friend to Bones, Ian and I had a murky history. He liked to collect the rare and unusual, be they items or people. That penchant had led Ian to try blackmailing me into a “friends with benefits” relationship once, before Ian knew my whole history with Bones. Now Ian didn’t make an inappropriate move toward me, but he did seem to take enjoyment in finding ways to annoy me.

Case in point: Ian cast a leisurely look at my mother, making sure I saw him pause at certain parts. Then he grinned.

“Truly a pleasure to see you again, Justina.”

All I could hope was that the same revulsion for vampires that had made my childhood hellish would serve my mother now. My mother hated my father, Max, since he’d seduced her, then told her she’d just had sex with an evil demon—all because he thought it was funny. She’d gotten pregnant from that encounter and thought she gave birth to a half-demon baby—me. I’d paid for my father’s warped sense of humor all my life, until Bones showed me that there was more to vampires than fangs.

My mother still must not be convinced that fangs didn’t equate to evil, judging from the look she gave Ian.

“Don’t you have somewhere else you could be?” she asked him in a withering voice.

Ian’s smile just broadened. “Certainly. Pull up your skirt, and I’ll show you.”

“That’s it!” I shrieked, lunging at Ian even as Rodney upended his chair and came after him as well. We both were so blinded by fury; all Ian had to do was slide back to watch us clang into each other instead of him.

“Ian, enough,” Spade snapped, stepping between me and Rodney when both of us leapt to our feet for another try. “Cat, Rodney—Ian’s finished now. Isn’t he?”

Spade glared at Ian, who just lifted one shoulder in a shrug.

“For now.”

I was trapped indoors with my mother, her pissed-off boyfriend, Bones’s ex-lover, his horny sire, and his secretive best friend. Whatever appetite I’d had when I came downstairs was gone. The only thing I wanted to do was get away from all of them, but that meant hiding in my room, and I’d had enough of that, too.

Maybe there was one thing that could help. I went to the cabinets and began to rifle through them with single-minded determination.

“What are you looking for, Catherine?” my mother asked.

“Liquor.”

I was into my third bottle of Jack Daniel’s when Bones arrived. It was sunset, the dying rays turning his hair reddish as he walked through the door. Even a glimpse of his hard, rippled frame caused my hand to tighten on the whiskey. God, he looked good, but I needed to slam the lid on my dirty mind and seek other things to think about. Farm equipment. Agriculture. The state of the economy.

“Blimey, Kitten, is this what you’ve been doing all day? Drinking?”

The judgmental tone Bones used doused my momentary ardor. Nope, no need to ponder the national deficit next!

“Your color’s good, so who are you to talk,” I said. “Is that what took you so long? Did she taste extra yummy?”

I was jealous, as irrational as that might be. Bones picked women to feed from for two reasons—with his looks, they were pathetically easy to get alone, and he liked their flavor more. I hadn’t believed Bones could really taste the difference between male and female blood until he proved it to me. The man could flawlessly genderize a whole blood bank. Once he’d commented that he thought it might be an acquired liking of estrogen.

“She didn’t taste like a gallon of whiskey, that’s for certain,” he shot back, coming over and arching a brow at my near-empty bottle. “Is that all you’ve had today?”

“Certainly is, Crispin,” Ian sang out. “She’s been drinking with the pluck of an Irishman!”

I had nothing heavy nearby to throw at Ian aside from the whiskey, and I wasn’t letting go of that. “Bite me, Ian!”

Bones snatched at my bottle, but I’d been anticipating that. I held on, and it was tug-of-war.

“Put it down,” he barked, prying my hand from my prize. “You need solid food, Kitten, and about a keg of water. Crikey, where’s your mum? Can’t the woman be counted on to at least see that you eat?”

If he had been trying to piss me off, he couldn’t have picked a better way. “Oh sure. Have someone feed me, water me, and keep me on a leash. You know what you should have married, Bones? A dog, then you wouldn’t have all those pesky problems about it occasionally acting on its own.”

“This is just what I bloody need,” he growled, running a hand through his hair. “Coming home to a drunken harpy, waiting to knock my head off.”