Page 48 of Good Vampires Go to Heaven

“Something like that.”

He drank his coffee slowly, savoring the strong brew. Time enough for the serious business at hand. He could help in the upcoming fight with all his inside information, if they’d let him, but first he wanted to address an issue important to him.

“Thank you,” he said simply.

She didn’t ask for what. She knew. “You’re welcome, but, as you know, I did it for myself more than you.”

“Doesn’t matter to me. You got me out.” That must rankle some of the male vangels who hadn’t, or couldn’t, do what a mere female vangel had accomplished. Even if it had been against protocol, aka Michael’s wishes. “Kudos, babe.”

“Thanks, babe,” she said and shared a smile with him. She had a very nice smile when it wasn’t coated with biting cynicism. “You smell good,” she added.

“The rain crap again?”

“Oh, yeah! Summer rain on a fresh mowed lawn. Autumn rain on leaves. Slashing rain. Gentle rain. Fresh. Clean.”

“That’s me. Mr. Clean. I thought I smelled your cinnamon spiciness again, but then I realized it must be those sweet rolls Andrea baked. No lifemate nonsense from my end.”

“You don’t have to look so happy about it.”

“Regina, I have enough troubles as it is without a woman. And you don’t even like me.”

“I don’t dislike you as much as I did before, but, God forbid, I have no use for a man. It would cramp my witchy style.”

Zeb laughed. “Anyhow, I’m thinking about becoming a priest.”

She was the one to laugh now. “Get serious.”

“I am serious. Here’s my thinking. Michael is already on the fence about me becoming a vangel. Not just because I was a demon, but I’m not a Viking and so far, all the vangels have been of Norse descent. I’ve been practicing Viking, though. Truly, it would be points in my favor if I could show him that not only have I been a double agent for him, and not only did I give myself up for Cnut, and not only can I be devout and celibate, and—”

She put up a halting hand. “You’re overthinking this. Besides, Michael has probably already made up his mind.”

“Oh,” he said, his shoulders slumping.

“Besides, do Jews become priests? Shouldn’t it be a rabbi, or something?”

“I didn’t think of that. Are Vikings ever rabbis? Probably not.”

“I hesitate to ask, but how do you practice Viking?”

He straightened and grinned at her. “Well, before my recent incarceration, I tried braiding my hair and walking with my shoulders thrown back, like I owned the world.”

“That’s a start.”

“Arrogance comes easy, but I’m not too hot for boats. I get seasick.”

She shrugged. “Modern Norsemen rarely go a-Viking these days. No need to ever step foot on a longboat. Besides, plundering is against the law.”

“I developed a taste for wild boar, even though we Jews are supposed to avoid pork.”

“Too gamey, if you ask me.”

“I like mead, but it’s a bit sweet for my taste buds. There’s nothing like good old Bud Light.”

“I prefer Diet Pepsi myself.”

“I would even wear a horned helmet if that would convince Michael.”

“Vikings never wore horned helmets. They would have given their enemies a handhold during battle. No, that’s a myth that started with Wagner’s opera about Beowulf.”