Giving a forced laugh, Greg scooped her up and walked to the car.
"I think you've had just a little too much to drink, honey," he laughed as he managed to get the door open and maneuver both himself and her into the backseat.
"Is she all right?" the driver asked, swiveling in his seat to eye them suspiciously.
Greg shifted Lissianna in his lap so that her head fell against his neck, and lied, "Yeah. She just had a little too much to drink at her birthday party."
"Yeah?" The driver glanced toward the house and Greg followed his gaze, relieved to note that the living room and bedroom lights were still on so that it didn't look as empty as it was.
"We were supposed to sleep over after the party, but her sister has the most god-awful uncomfortable bed in the spare room," Greg went on nervously. "And I have to get some sleep before work tomorrow. You understand, don't you, honey?" he asked, and glanced down at the top of Lissianna's head where it lay against his chest, before adding, "Hmm, I think she's passed right out."
"Birthday party, huh?" the driver said, and there was definitely suspicion in his voice.
Understandable, Greg supposed, since it was Monday night and most people avoided holding parties on a week-night, saving it for the weekend.
"Yeah. Her thirtieth," he lied. "She isn't taking it well. Still, I don't know why they couldn't have the party on the weekend rather than a weeknight, but she and her sister insisted it had to be on the actual date. Women," Greg added with mild disgust, then fell silent and held his breath as he waited to see if he'd managed to allay the man's suspicions enough that he'd take them to his apartment... or if the fellow was going to grab his radio and call for the police to be sent out.
The driver was silent for a good long time, then he turned in his seat and arched an eyebrow at Greg. "So, you gonna tell me where you want to go, mister?"
Letting his breath out on a slow exhalation of relief, Greg managed a smile and gave the address for his apartment building, then settled back in the seat and peered down at Lissianna.
The ride seemed to take forever, though he knew that was a result of his worry about Lissianna, not a real reflection of the passing time. It wasn't until the cabby pulled the car to a stop in front of the building that Greg realized he had no money to pay for the trip. He had a stash of cash in his desk drawer in his apartment, but he'd have to get the doorman to wake up the super to let him in again to get to it.
He was about to explain all this to the driver, when the door on his side of the cab suddenly opened.
Glancing around with a start, Greg found himself staring at Lissianna's cousin, Thomas Argeneau.
"What happened?" Thomas asked, his concerned gaze moving over Lissianna.
"I'll explain inside," Greg muttered as he struggled out of the backseat. Thomas held his arms out to take Lissianna from him to make it easier, but he shook his head, unwilling to let her go. "Pay the driver for me, will you?"
Thomas opened the front door of the cab to ask how much the fare was as Greg found his feet and straightened with his burden. Lissianna's cousin paid the driver, closed both doors, then caught Greg's arm as he started for the front door of his apartment building.
"You can't go in. There's someone waiting in the hall upstairs in case you two show up here," he said. "Come with me."
Greg didn't hesitate to follow Thomas. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that the man loved Lissianna and would help her.
"What happened?" Thomas repeated as soon as he had Greg settled in the front seat of his Jeep, with Lissianna on his lap.
"They found us," Greg announced grimly, then asked the question that had been worrying him since he'd found Lissianna lying prone on the couch, "All those movies and books were wrong about the garlic and crosses, what about stakes?"
"What?" Thomas peered at him with confusion.
"Can being staked kill your people?" Greg clarified.
Thomas's eyes widened incredulously, then he leaned forward and tugged open Lissianna's coat.
Greg sat silent and tense as the other man undid the top buttons of her shirt, then spread the material to the sides. He found his eyes moving anxiously to her wound as Thomas pulled the towel up enough to see it.
"It looks a little smaller," he noted with relief.
"Christ!" Thomas said with disbelief. "That's smaller? What did they stab her with? A telephone post?"
"A stake," Greg said quietly.
"Who staked her?" Thomas let the towel lie flat against her skin again and lay the sides of the shirt back over it, not bothering to button it up.
"One of your people I guess," Greg said, as Thomas pulled the coat closed over her to keep her warm.