The
police officers have left, and the caterers talk a little bit about
their lives before being turned.
"We
have to tell the Council," Kirk said quietly. "Phillida has
to know."
"You're
right," Drea said. "We'll go tonight."
"I'll
come too," Margo said. "Phillida always liked me better
than you."
"Can
I come?" Tommy asked innocently.
"No!"
Margo said rather more loudly than intended. "No, my sweet
darling. Phillida isn't like the rest of us. She refuses to take the
medicine. She feeds from artificial blood, mostly. But sometimes, if
the blood lust is strong, she takes—brutally—efficiently. I would
not lose you to one such as she. For you are my own, my heart."
She stroked his cheek gently. "For your safety, you'll stay
home."
Tommy's
kiss was as ardent as it was innocent. "As you wish, my love."
"In
the meantime," Drea said, wiping her eyes. "We have work to
do." She and Margo walked into the kitchen, discussing the jobs
of the day.
"That
we do," Kirk said absently. He took out his cellphone.
"Who
you calling, boss?" Tommy asked.
"Jay's
daughter. Maybe she can shed some light on why her father was
murdered. If not, I intend to find out. If he was killed because of
us, I want to be the instrument of that justice."
"Should
you really get involved? I mean, if it's because of you, don't you
think you will just make things worse?"
"I
don't know, Tom. But one thing I've learned, sometimes a man has to
make things worse before he can make them better."
Tommy
shrugged, spreading his hands. "What do I know? Maybe you're
right. I don't want to see anyone else hurt, that's all."
"Me
either." He dialed his phone, waiting for an answer. "That's
the last thing that I want." He waited a moment for someone to
answer, then walked a few paces away from Tommy.
The
young man headed to the kitchen after the women, knowing that Kirk
wanted to be alone. He had no idea what Kirk was going to do or say,
but hoped it helped. He couldn't bear the idea of losing Margo. In
the short time he'd known her, he had come to love and admire her
more than he had ever thought possible. In fact, he was closer to
this diverse trio than he was to his own family.
"What
do you need me to do?" He put his arms around the shoulders of
the women, smiling broadly.
"For
now, stand there looking handsome," Margo told him. "Then
you can start prep for the ratatouille."
"Gee,
thanks," he said with a smirk.
"You're
so welcome. Now, Drea, about tonight's visit. What do you plan to
wear?"
They
walked into the cooler, leaving Tommy alone in the kitchen. He knew
better than to get involved, but he was curious. What would the
vampire mansion be like? Would it be like the movies, where they
lounged around feeding off enslaved humans? Or were their pets more
like he was, willing participants? Were they normal looking? Did they
flaunt their fangs? Would he recognize one if he saw one in public?
Would they recognize him as the partner of a vamp? Was there some
sort of sign? A signal? With these questions and more whizzing around
in his brain as he worked, he nearly cut his own fingers off several
times.
The
women came back out a few minutes later, each holding ingredients
they would need for their various dishes. Tommy tried to ignore them,
but they were still talking about their visit to the mansion.
"Are
you sure you don't want me to come?"
"No,"
they answered in chorus.
He
tried asking several more questions, but they refused to answer.
Eventually, he stopped asking. As the day wore on, he had another
thought. He could always follow Margo there. After all, how bad could
the other vamps be? Margo, Kirk and Drea were like him, only
stronger, smarter and healthier than anyone else he knew. He could
follow and stay hidden, never been seen, and have all his questions
answered.
He
started humming, whistling, then singing a ridiculous song by Tunng.
Although he had a good voice, the song he chose was particularly
irritating. "We're catching bullets in our teeth...."
Margo
swaggered up to him, carrying a butcher knife casually in one hand.
"Don't," she said, laying his hand on the cutting board.
"Even think about it. Do I make myself very, very clear?"
Placing her hand over his, she stabbed the board between their thumbs
and forefingers, nicking his skin while splitting hers. She lifted
their bleeding hands to her lips, sucking gently on his. She held her
own hand up, showing him how the cut healed before she licked the
blood off her thumb.
"Stay
away, Tommy. I mean it. If anything happened to you.... Stay away.
Promise me." Her eyes held more emotion than he had ever seen.
Even when she had her kitchen meltdowns, she didn't exhibit this much
pain.
"I
promise," he whispered.
"Thank
you. Now be a good boy and prep that eggplant, would you? Ratatouille
for two hundred doesn't make itself."
"Yes,
chef," he replied, swallowing hard.
©
2019 Dellani Oakes
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