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The drive to Sassy's took about twenty minutes this time of night. Seattle's streets were clear, with only the occasional car slinking through the dimly lit streets. The ice still frozen on the pavement shimmered under the street lights and the world felt muffled, hushed by the cushion of snow that had frozen solid over the past few days. Once again, I made a note to ask Camille about the winter. She and Iris could look into it and see if there was anything magical going on behind the sudden Arctic freeze that still held Seattle in its grip.
Sassy's house was actually a mansion, set back on two acres of well-kept grounds with a spiked fence that circled the property. The actual gate worked on an intercom system and so I punched the button, grateful that I wouldn't need to get out of the car and open the thing myself. Not that the cold would bother me or the work, or even the iron—much—if I hurried, but the night had already been stressful. I wanted this visit to go nice and easy.
"Yes?" Janet's voice echoed out of the intercom. Sassy's assistant, Janet, had been with her for forty years, since Sassy's sweet sixteen.
"It's Menolly. I need to talk to Sassy. Is she home?" Janet knew who I was. Janet was also the only nonvamp besides my sisters who were privy to the fact that Sassy now carried a prime-card membership to the bloodsuckers club. Apparently the older woman had accepted the change as placidly as she might accept a notice that the garbage route had been shifted to a different day or that her neighborhood market was having a fifty-cent-off sale.
Janet was a woman of few words. She didn't answer, but the gate clicked and slowly opened. I waited until I could drive through without scratching my car, then wound up the narrow driveway at five miles per hour to avoid hitting any stray animals that might be passing by. The Branson estate was overgrown with weeping willow trees and oak, fir and lilacs. Sassy had married well, despite her natural inclinations, and when Johan had died, he left her with enough money so she'd never have to worry again. Of course, he hadn't counted on providing for her for an eternity, but Sassy would cross that bridge when she came to it.
I parked outside the four-story manor that resembled a plantation house, complete with wrap-around porch. As I dashed up the steps, I wondered what the hell Sassy was going to do with this joint over the years. In thirty years or so, people would be expecting her to die. Then what would she do? Fake her own death?
The door was adorned with a Marley knocker. Sassy had a wicked sense of humor. As the large brass knocker hit the striker button, a resounding thud echoed from within and the theme from The Munsters chimed through the hall.
A moment later, Janet opened the door.
"Good evening," I said, giving her a quick smile. Janet had a strong influence on Sassy. Stay on her good side and treat her with respect and she'd go out of her way to help you if she could. Sassy was rather scatterbrained, and Janet watched over her like a mother hen.
"Evening, Miss Menolly," the older woman said. Tall, with snow white hair and skin barely beyond the albino white of my own complexion, Janet carried herself with a Julia Child hump. She never gave any indications of being tired or in pain, and was always impeccably dressed in a linen skirt suit.
"Miss Sassy's waiting in the parlor for you." She gestured to the first door on the right.
"Thank you." As I opened the door, the stark whiteness of the room blinded me, contrasting with the brick red of the stuccoed hallway.
Sassy's parlor was as classy as her entire life had been. Not a speck of dust dared to linger on the highly polished tables, every plant was lush and green. Each morning, Janet opened the heavy velvet drapes and windows, allowing the room to air out so it always smelled fresh and clean.
Sassy, wearing a pale blue Ann Taylor pantsuit, was sitting in a wingback chair upholstered in a neutral jacquard. Her hair, as usual, was perfectly coiffed. She'd been agonizing whether or not to dye it for weeks now.
"If it's horrid, then I'll have to bleach it back," she'd say.
"So don't do it," I'd answered back.
"But I miss having gorgeous red hair—I want hair the color of yours."
And I'd shake my head and remind her that, vampire or not, abuse the hair often enough and she'd end up sporting an eternal bald spot.
I knew it wasn't exactly PC, but at the core, I was relieved that—if I had to be turned into a vampire—at least I'd been young and in good health when it happened. Barring the little gifts Dredge left on my skin, that is.
"Menolly!" Sassy jumped up, a brilliant smile spreading across her face. She held out her arms and I reluctantly let her embrace me. She kissed me on both cheeks. Air kisses, yeah, but I didn't really like being touched by anyone other than my sisters or Iris. "What brings you to visit?">Camille glanced at me. "What do your instincts tell you?"
I stared at the table a moment, trying to explain. "My instincts aren't like yours. And vampires are adept at hiding themselves, at cloaking their true natures. I honestly don't know, though I doubt she's behind any of this. I'm pretty sure we're dealing with Dredge." After a moment, I looked up to find Camille watching me, a strange expression on her face. "You're wondering about me, aren't you?"
She sputtered. "No, not at all—I didn't mean anything—"
Delilah paled and dropped her napkin on the floor. I sighed, leaning my head back to study the ceiling. "It's okay. Really. I know you're still wary of me. And you should be. I will never hurt you… not so long as I know what I'm doing. But we have to face facts. I'm a demon now. Sometimes… things happen." I raised my head, feeling the tears well up in my eyes. Damned emotions—even though they'd been altered, they were still there.
Camille leaned forward, pushing her plate back, her expression somber. "What do you want us to do if you ever…"
"If I ever lose control? If the predator within fully takes over?" I stared at her, unblinking. "Stake me. Kill me any way you can. I refuse to let Dredge win. I refuse to become a carbon copy of that deranged sadist. I'd rather return to our ancestors than stay alive as a monster."
Delilah's lip trembled and she began to shiver. I motioned to Camille, who hurried around the table. "Delilah," she said, "honey, it's okay. Everything's okay—"
"We're just speaking hypothetically, Kitten. Don't worry—"
The words barely left my mouth when a shower of golden light surrounded Delilah and she began to transform. Shit. Both Camille and I should have known better than to bring up such a sensitive subject without warning her. Even though Delilah was marked as a Death Maiden serving the Autumn Lord now, even though she was able to shift into a black panther when he ordered her to, at heart, she was still that fragile golden tabby cat.
Camille reached her first. Delilah looked up from the floor and mewed, and Camille held out her arms. With a single leap, Delilah hurtled into her arms and buried her head in Camille's substantial boobs.
"I didn't think," she said. "Or I would have asked you privately, then broached the subject to Delilah slowly." She sat down in Delilah's chair and stroked her long fur gently, kissing the top of the cat's forehead. "Oh baby, for all your bravado, you're still too gentle hearted." Camille gave me a bleak look. "I worry about her in the coming war. Shadow Wing's only thrown his minor minions at us. What happens when the hordes break through?"
