Blood Sisters_ Vampire Stories by Women - Paula Guran Page 0,49

How in hell can you keep ’em out the game if you can’t keep ’em in the house?” Benny’s voice was raw with anger.

Gilda didn’t have to listen to his thoughts to sense the anxiety and concern swirling around underneath his hard tone.

“I already got two laundry women. Looks like I’ma have to hire me another one. She lost her job.” Benny jerked his thumb in the direction of the darkness where the boy had disappeared. “His sister, she takes care of a passel of them.”

Maybe you should open a laundry house. Gilda let the thought slip from her mind into his.

“Maybe … you know I got the back end of the joint, facing off North Street … Maybe I’ll set them girls up in there. Get us a laundry going! Damn. That’s it.”

“You have a good heart, Benny.”

“What else I’ma do?”

“That’s what I mean,” Gilda said.

“Lester’s okay, he just ain’t got nothin’ to do but hang around trying to grab some pennies. Morris had to snatch him up out some trouble last week.”

“You and Morris need to be on the city council,” Gilda said with a laugh as she started toward the mouth of the alley.

“Hey, you comin’ by the party later? We got a fine spread.” His smooth brown skin was like velvet in the light of the alley. He pulled at the cuffs of each sleeve under his jacket and smoothed his hand across his short-cut hair, readying himself to return to the bar.

“I’ll be there.”

“You know, cousin, you need to be careful walking these streets by yourself in the middle of the night.”

“Thanks, Benny, I’m just going up to the corner. I’ll be right back.”

“Umph.” Benny grunted his disapproval, then said with a smile, “You know I can’t handle it when a good-lookin’ woman stands me up.” Gilda waved as she turned and walked swiftly out to the street. She looked north, then south before she picked her direction. The air felt brisk and fresh on her smooth skin, untouched by the decades that had led her to this place. The deep brown of her eyes was still clear, sparkling with questions just as they had when she was truly a girl. Her full mouth was firm, tilted more toward a smile than a frown, and inviting, even without the faint trace of lipstick she occasionally applied.

The fragrance of fall was in the trees just as it had been every season for many years. Gilda marveled at how different each part of the country smelled; and over time, the scent of everything—grass, wood, even people—altered subtly. Nothing in her face revealed that eighty years had passed since Gilda had taken her first breath on a plantation in Mississippi. After journeying through most of the countryside and small towns west of the Rocky Mountains, this was her first stop in a major city in some years.

As she strode through the streets, Gilda was self-conscious about her clothes. Although some women had worn pants for almost fifty years, she was still frequently among a select few wherever she went. It had caused ripples of talk since her arrival in town, but she would not relent or be forced to maneuver in the skimpy skirts that were currently the rage. Her solid body was firm with muscles that were concealed beneath the full-cut slacks and jacket. The dark purple and black weave of her coat hid the preternatural strength of her arms. Her hair was pulled away from her face, in a single, thick braid woven from the crown of her head to her neck. There was nothing about Gilda that any of the men who frequented the Evergreen would call elegant, yet the way she moved through the room left most of them curious, attentive.

Gilda removed the matching beret she wore and tucked it inside a deep pocket in the lining of her jacket. Tonight, few would notice her as she passed. She turned off of the downtown street and walked toward the river. Here the noise was louder, lower. The echo of Lydia Redmond’s voice receded as Gilda’s body succumbed to its need. She remembered the first time she’d gone out into the night for the blood that kept her alive. Running through the hot, damp night in Louisiana with the woman, Bird, who’d first given her the gift, Gilda had been astonished at the ease of movement. They’d passed plantation fields as if they rode in carriages. She’d barely felt the ground beneath her feet as