Death's Excellent Vacation - By Charlaine Harris & Toni L. P. Kelner Page 0,26
to my current predicament.
“We’ll go somewhere else,” I said with an apologetic shrug.
“Is something wrong with the girl?” my mother asked, pointing.
I glanced at the backseat. Tammy was smacking at the door while her eyes bugged and her mouth opened and closed like a fish.
“Oh shit, I forgot about muting her!”
I let Tammy out and returned her voice with a flash of my gaze. The first thing she did was howl loud enough to make me wince.
“Don’t ever do that to me again!”
“Then don’t give away our position if we think there’s danger, and we won’t have a reason to,” Bones replied with an arched brow.
“Mom, this is Tammy,” I said, waving the blonde forward.
My mother smiled at her. “Hello, Tammy. Nice to meet you.”
Tammy grabbed my mother’s arms. “Finally, someone normal! Do you know what it’s like with these two? They’re worse than prison guards! They wouldn’t even stop to let me eat!”
Bones snorted. “We were a bit busy keeping you alive, if you recall.”
My mother glanced at Tammy and then back at me. “Poor girl, you must be starving. I’ll make you something for dinner. You don’t want Catherine to cook, believe me.”
Under normal circumstances, I might have bristled at the implication. But that statement, plus the look she’d given me, said we would be staying here after all. Safety concerns for Tammy aside, I was happy. I’d missed my mother. Maybe our mutually interrupted vacations were a blessing in disguise for our relationship.
“After you, Mom.”
MY warm and fuzzy feeling evaporated after dinner, however. The house only had two bedrooms. My mother kindly offered to share hers with Tammy, but just as I was about to thank her for it, Tammy spoke.
“Shouldn’t I sleep with him instead?” Tammy’s gaze swept over Bones with unmistakable lust. “After all, since I’m the one paying, I should choose who I bunk with.”
My mother gasped. I opened my mouth to deliver a scathing retort, but Bones laughed. “I’m a married man, but even if I weren’t, you wouldn’t stand a chance. Rotten manners you have.”
“Your loss,” Tammy said, with another toss of her hair. Then she looked around in frustration. “You can’t expect me to stay here more than a couple days. I’ll go crazy.”
“But you’ll be alive,” I pointed out, which should have been her top priority, in my opinion.
“You killed that thing, didn’t you?” Tammy asked. “Doesn’t that mean the danger’s over?”
Bones shrugged. “I doubt the ghoul was the person contracted to kill you. Sounds like outsourced, cheap local talent to me.”
Tammy gaped at him. “She had to cut his head off before he stayed down. That’s what you consider cheap local talent?”
“No self-respecting undead hit man would take a contract on a human,” Bones said dismissively. “Humans are too easy. Like getting paid to stomp on a goldfish. But in your case, probably a human hit man who knows about the undead got frustrated that his last two attempts didn’t work, and gave some quid to a young ghoul to finish you. It’s a practical solution; the ghoul gets money and a meal, the hitter still keeps the bulk of the contract payment, and the client’s happy that you’re dead.”
“You would know, wouldn’t you?” my mother muttered.
“How’s that?” Tammy asked.
Bones smiled at her, beautiful and cold at the same time. “Because I was a hit man for over two hundred years.”
Tammy gulped. I didn’t add what I knew: that Bones had been very particular about his contracts. He killed other killers, not innocent people, and most of those people were his own kind. That hadn’t won Bones any popularity contests in undead circles, but if Bones thought someone deserved to die, he took the contract, no matter the danger.
“In a few days, Don should have your greedy toad of a cousin arrested, and then it will be safe for you to go home,” Bones went on.
“If you’re a hit man, why can’t I just pay you to kill Gables?” she asked, recovering. “My birthday isn’t for another two months. Who knows if my cousin might try to kill me again, even if he is in jail?”
My eyes widened at how causally Tammy broached the subject. Pass the salt. Kill my cousin.
Bones shrugged. “He might, but you’ll have to look elsewhere for a hitter. I’m too busy for that now.”
Tammy glanced at my mother, me, and then Bones before her face tightened up. “This sucks,” she said, and ran up the stairs.
Considering I could have been spending the next two