Page 16 of Good Vampires Go to Heaven

Holy clouds! This was a goat fuck in the making. That was an expression Regina had heard another VIK, Trond Sigurdsson, and his Navy SEALs pals use on occasion. It meant one big mess.

“Sorry,” Zeb said, not at all apologetic. “But where, pray tell, do you expect us all to land?”

“Well, I was thinking . . .” Regina started to say.

When she didn’t go on, Zeb said, “Lord spare me from a thinking woman.”

Definitely rude! She made a hissing sound of disgust.

“Sorry,” he lied again. “Go on.”

“I heard a rumor that you have a secret island in the Caribbean.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“I overheard Trond Sigurdsson tell his brother Vikar about it one day. Trond is a Navy SEAL vangel who—”

“I know who Trond is!” he shouted, then glanced at Craven to make sure his outburst hadn’t awakened the sleeping giant. In a lower voice, he asked, “Did he say where it was?”

She shook her head. “No, but I figured you could maybe tell us how to get there. And once we arrive, I can maybe go back to the castle and maybe talk Vikar into convincing Mike to maybe come get you all.”

“There’s a whole lot of maybes in there.”

“It is what it is.”

“I hate that expression.”

“I do, too. So, how does a Lucipire get to have an island?”

“It’s my hidey-hole.”

“Hidey-hole? What are you, like twelve years old?”

“It is what it is.”

“Aaarrgh!”

“Holy Sac-au-lait!” Beau said then. He was staring down at Zeb’s barbed wire–encased penis. “Ah bet that hurt worse’n a cat tail in a possum trap.”

“Only if it enlarges.”

“Man, ya’ll better hope ya doan get a sudden hard-on. They come on me all the time, faster ’n a dog on a bone. A bone, boner, get it?”

Zeb groaned at Beau’s lame attempt at humor. “I haven’t seen anything worthy of an erection in ages.”

“Is that meant as an insult to me?” Regina asked, giving him her best witchy stink eye. “Like I have any interest in your dangly parts!”

“So, Regina,” Zeb said. “You, and me, and three other witches on an island?”

“Yes.”

“Ménage à cinq?”

Zeb was either in shock, or he had a warped sense of humor, like Beau. But they were wasting precious time with this nonsense. “Sure,” she said.

“Go for it,” he said, dropping back onto the pallet and stretching out his manacled arms and legs. “What else have I got to lose?”

Chapter 4