Page 20 of Good Vampires Go to Heaven

“Anyways, porcupines doan have quills on their tooters, they have ’em on their tails,” Beau added.

“How do you know?” Regina had to ask. “Did you ever check?”

“Ah ain’t that dumb.” Beau winked at her.

“Tooters?” Grimelda cackled. “That’s a new one. I met a Viking once what called his Rooster. Just as bad, I suppose. His cock did do a lot of doodling. You know, cock-a-doodle.” More cackling. “Do Cajun manparts make noise, like horns tooting?”

“Only when they’re tooting their own horns,” Beau joked.

Not for the first time, Regina questioned the combined IQ of her comrades in insanity.

“Would all of you be quiet so I can concentrate?” Patience said. “I wonder what this thing is down here.” She pulled a lever and air began to whoosh quickly out of the balloon, causing the basket to lurch and sway from side to side.

“Holy Thor!” Grimelda exclaimed, clutching the side rail with boney, white-knuckled fists.

“I think mah tonsils jist shook hands with mah family jewels,” Beau commented, also clutching the rail with tight fingers.

Regina was kneeling on the floor, trying to keep Zeb from rolling over.

Patience quickly pushed the lever back up. “Oops. Guess I know how to deflate now. Just a little more slowly.”

“Zeb? Zeb, can you hear me? You’ve got to wake up. We’re out of Horror and about to land soon. You need to guide us to your island.”

He groaned and licked his dry, split lips. His one good eye blinked and then opened. He tried to sit up but only managed to raise his head. “What? Where am I? Am I in Hell?”

“We’re in a hot air balloon. Floating away from Horror. Over northernmost Norway at the moment, I would guess.”

“Yep, must be Hell.” He closed his eye, about to fall back asleep.

Regina leaned forward and forced the eye to remain open.

“Ouch! Are you trying to pluck out my eyeball? Satan’s latest torture technique? I was right the first time, wasn’t I? You’re Satan’s sister, not a vangel. Red Riding Hell Hood.”

“We’re not in Hell, numbskull. Not yet. But we will be if you don’t stay awake and help us.” She grabbed his forearm and tried to pull him up.

He swatted her hand away and sat up himself, a testament to self-will or adrenaline energy or some such thing. It didn’t matter why. The man was sitting up and gazing about him. At her kneeling at his side. At Grimelda holding one of her brooms like a baby and crooning some witchy chant. At Beau leering at Patience’s backside as she manned the tiller, at the same time bending over to press the lever which was slowly deflating the balloon.

“Oh, fuck! We’re screwed,” Zeb said.

“We saved your ass, big boy,” Regina commented. “A little gratitude would be appreciated.”

“Thank you,” he said, and appeared to be sincere. “Help me up, Doucet,” he ordered Beau then. “Let’s see what we can salvage from this SNAFU.”

“What’s a Sniff-You?” Grimelda wanted to know.

“Not Sniff-You. SNAFU, as in Situation Normal, All Fucked Up. It’s a military term.”

“Were you in the military?” Beau asked.

Zeb rolled his one eye, which was kind of comical, though it must be painful. “Not for a long, long time.”

“Army? Navy? Mah cousin Leroy was in the Navy.”

“Roman,” Zeb said. “But I’ve been working with some Navy SEALs lately. It’s a long story, and not important. Help me up.”

Regina and Beau both helped him to stand with his back braced against one of the side rails and rope supports. The fur cloak fell off his body, puddling at his feet. “Please tell me that’s not Jasper’s hundred-thousand-dollar Hermès ermine cloak.”

“I told you,” Grimelda told Beau.