Moonshifted

If he was pissed off enough to fight, hopefully he was pissed off enough to live. “We’ll see,” I said.

I jogged out to my car, cold crawling up my shins. Thin cotton scrubs didn’t keep any cold out, or heat in—by the time I made it to my little Chevy I was freezing. I cranked the engine on and dialed the heat up, holding naked hands out to the vents in supplication. When I’d thawed enough to operate my vehicle, I drove home, right past the accident site. Other ignorant cars drove over the stranger’s blood, but not me. I changed lanes.

By the time I made it home I was warm, but I felt disgusting. The birdbath scrubbing I’d given myself in the bathroom sink wasn’t cutting it anymore. I could feel the sweat and grime, not to mention blood, that I was sure was still there, trapped deep in my pores. Screw a bleach bath; if I ever got paid decently, I’d install a chlorhexidine shower.

I parked close to my apartment, ran inside, and locked the door behind me. My Siamese cat Minnie came up to greet me at the door. She sniffed me, then gave a disappointed yowl—she knew I’d been consorting with dogs. “I know, I know.” As I shimmied off my clothing, German started chattering from the vicinity of my kitchen’s countertop bar, from Grandfather’s CD player.

“Not you too.” It’d been a while since he’d last spoken to me, not that I ever knew what he was saying. I’d picked him up from a patient—or rather, he’d picked me out—and he only spoke German, a language I didn’t comprehend. He lived in a CD player that didn’t have a CD in it or batteries. I didn’t want to say he was a ghost … but I didn’t know what else he could be. Mostly I knew how he was feeling by his tone. Today it sounded like I was in trouble.

“I missed you too, Grandfather.” I patted his player. The lid didn’t sit right, but the structural integrity wasn’t important. He said something else that sounded snippy, and his on-light went to yellow.

“I didn’t do anything bad, honest.” I tossed my scrubs and coat into a trash bag. I’d be down one good bra until I laundered everything, dammit—but laundry could wait until after I’d showered.

I went into my bathroom and cranked the shower up to scalding, flicking my hand under it while I waited for the water to heat. Once I was under it, the hot water calmed me down. I concentrated on scrubbing myself clean, each and every part, more so than I usually bothered to, even after taking care of that one patient with active TB.

When I emerged, pink and dewy, I became aware of a vortex of cold air rushing in from beneath the door, trumping my bathroom’s jungly shower clime. Plus—I heard Grandfather talking to himself again outside, sounding extremely displeased. It was December, and I knew I hadn’t left any windows open—

Old Edie would have naively walked out into her living room, wondering what’d happened. New Edie sashed her robe tight, grabbed the toilet plunger to hold it like a club, and listened at the bathroom door before opening it.

CHAPTER FIVE

My apartment was small. My bathroom was across from my bedroom—I opened the door quietly, and peeked into the dark room, before hearing someone talking in my living room.

“Really now, the things you say,” said a female voice. The German invectives continued.

I ran down the hall and leapt into my living room, the plunger held high. “Who’s there?”

By the dim light of my reading lamp, I could see a young blond girl kneeling beside my couch. It took me a second to recognize her—Anna looked much older than when we’d last seen each other, ten days ago. Sweet sixteen was what the songs said, but what sixteen-year-old had ever thought that about themselves? She was playing tug-of-war with Minnie, using a piece of ribbon. She looked from the plunger to me and smiled, showing tiny triangles of fang.

She looked almost human, because she was. Kind of. Anna was a living vampire, the child of two daytimer parents, a vampire freak of nature, the girl whose life I’d helped to save.

Even though she was a vampire, I couldn’t help it—I was damn happy to see her. I went in for a hug.

“Put the stake down!” said a male voice from my kitchen.

“What?” I heard the sound of a gun being cocked.

“Gideon!” Anna chastised sharply. “It’s okay.”

“It’s okay? There’s a man in my kitchen with a gun.” I stood there, mid-lunge, holding my toilet plunger like a wizard’s wand.

“I’m sorry, Edie—” Anna waved at the man. “Gideon, please.”

The man, who was dressed so darkly I could barely differentiate him from my cabinets, let the gun slide release, tilting the gun’s barrel down.

“Thank you,” Anna said, nodding to him before looking back to me. Our huggy moment was gone. I set the plunger down.

“How’d you get in?”

“You invited me.”

Back when she had looked nine, yes, I had. “But the door was locked.”

“Gideon has many talents.”

“You couldn’t wait outside? Call? Knock?”

“We did knock. You didn’t hear us. Well, that German-speaking thing you keep did.”

“I was in the shower.” Grandfather was quiet now—but I felt slightly safer with him still on my kitchen counter, between Gideon and me. Grandfather would say something if that guy came any closer. I closed the neck of my robe tighter and sat on the far end of my couch. “When did you get all old?”

She smiled. “Once they started to feed me decently. I can control it, some.”

Anna looked like a student from a goth boarding school. A black clip held back her frizzy blond bangs, tamed for the first time since I’d met her, and she had a maroon turtleneck on, a pocket watch strung on a gold chain around her neck. A thick black felt skirt went down to her knees, where maroon tights began, sinking into warm winter boots. Most of the times I’d seen her before this, she’d been angry, wearing a ratty nightgown that had been spattered with other people’s blood.

“You look good,” I said, with a nod.

“I’m staying with Sike. She lets me borrow clothing.” Sike was a model acquaintance of us both. She was a daytimer, the servant of a vampire both Anna and I knew, and she’d be as comfortable stabbing someone with a stiletto as with a shiv.

Anna rose up to sit beside me and crinkled her nose. “You’re clean, but your house smells like blood and werewolf.”

No point in lying. “There’s a reason for that, but I can’t tell you about it. Patient privacy, et cetera.” I looked over at the stranger in my kitchen. How about some nurse privacy too? “Why’s he here?”

“Gideon’s my driver.”

“Oh.” I didn’t want to know why Anna needed a driver with a gun. Or rather, I did, but … Charles had had a point this afternoon. I wanted to ask her how she was, what had happened to her since she’d been gone, the sort of things you’d ask your friends if you hadn’t seen them for a little while. But most people’s friends weren’t vampires. I had already bought her a Christmas gift, though, just in case—

“Wait here, okay?” I asked, and left the room. I put my plunger away first and then went to my bedroom to find something to wear.

I wasn’t Christmas-coordinated enough to have a tree; there was hardly a point. When you lived alone plus worked night shift, the holidays just slid on by. But I had bought Anna a black scarf, because it seemed appropriate, and it was the kind of thing I would wear myself if I didn’t see her again.

With my hair pulled up and warmer clothing on, I returned to the living room and turned on the lights. Grandfather was still muttering at Gideon in the kitchen, who as far as I could see had put away his gun. I reached for the small pile of gifts on my kitchen countertop, and Gideon eyed me but didn’t draw. I returned to my spot on the couch. “I bought you something.”

“A gift?”

“For Christmas.” I handed her the box. She carefully opened the wrapping paper at the taped corners and straightened the creases, just like my grandmother, saving it for later. “I just realized I don’t even know if you get cold. But if you do, there you go,” I said lamely, as she parted the gift box to reveal the scarf inside.

“The winter here is nothing compared with the winters of my childhood.” She pulled the scarf out and wound it around her neck. Seeing as once upon a time she’d come from Russia, back when it was still called Russia, I believed her. She stroked the end of it and smiled at me. “I have something for you too.” She reached for a bag at her end of my couch and rummaged inside.

This was unexpected. Anna was the nicest vampire I’d met so far, but as vampires go, that was like saying she was the least alcoholic attendee at an AA meeting. I glanced over at Gideon, and there was an emotion I couldn’t name on his face—jealousy? Was he her daytimer? Why would a daytimer be jealous of me?

Anna turned back toward me, a small box on her lap. It was wooden and carved—it reminded me of the box the Evil Queen had given the hunter to put Snow White’s heart in.

“It’s not a gift, Edie. I’m sorry about that. I forgot it was Christmas,” Anna said, holding the box out.

“I kind of figured vampires didn’t go in for Christian holidays.” I took the box. It was heavy and ornate. The wood was dark, and there was a rose crest carved on the top and inlaid with gold, gold that I suspected was real, having met assorted members of the Rose Throne before. I fumbled around with the lid until I found the mechanism that slid it off. Underneath was a cream envelope of thick paper, and inside of that was a note with calligraphy so ornate as to be almost unintelligible. I tilted the card back and forth. “Just tell me where you’re registered.”

She snorted. “It’s a request for your attendance at my initiation ceremony. It’s on New Year’s Eve, at midnight.”

“Initiation into what?” I hedged. Holiday shifts were time and a half. I was in peanut-butter-sandwich mode, after having been out injured recently. Working Christmas and New Year’s were really going to help my bottom line.