Just One Bite (28 page)

Mama nodded and glanced down at her flower-print dress. “I’ll need to stop off at home for my exorcism clothes first. Crusher can drive me. You stay here with your friend. Take her to the old building behind the church.” She motioned to a slim edge of maroon brick barely visible behind the main structure. “It’s the children’s recreation center now, but it was once the actual sanctuary before the church expanded. The place has been remodeled, but the altar is still there.” She pulled out a key ring. “I head up the monthly toy drive and I’m always dropping off donations, so I have my own key.”

“Thank you.” I took the key.

“Don’t thank me yet.” She cast one more glance at Evie, a serious expression on her face. “We still have to kick some demon butt first.”

Twenty-six

C
rusher dropped Evie and me off behind the brick building before heading home with his mother. I took a long swig of the Benadryl I’d picked up (my own little addition to the prep list), summoned my courage, and opened the door to the building.

With the exception of the red-carpeted altar and vestibule at the far end, there were no telltale signs that the place had ever housed the main sanctuary. The walls were bright yellow with tiny rainbow-colored handprints here and there. Glossy navy blue linoleum covered the floors. There were miniature tables and chairs situated here and there, along with bins of toys and shelves holding everything from coloring books to tempera paints.

I bypassed the Kid Zone and headed for the large altar that sat at the top of a small set of carpeted steps. Setting Evie down, I checked the ropes on her hands and feet (still snug). Her eyes were still rolled back into her head. A steady stream of hissing and wailing drifted from the corners of her mouth and my throat tightened.

I touched a hand to her forehead, which was ice cold. “You’ll be back sipping lattes and matching up singles in no time.”

She didn’t respond, but neither did the demon, and I took it as a sign that maybe he was feeling the holiness of the place closing in on him.

I know I was.

My shoulder gave a twinge and I barely resisted the urge to scratch. I walked back down the steps and sat at a nearby table. I spent the next few minutes listening to my voice mail and trying to kill some time.

My mom. My mom. My mom. Nina One. My mom. Remy. My mom. Ash.

“I’m at your apartment,” he said, his voice deep and sexy and oh-so-pissed. “Call me
now.
”

Shit.

No sooner did the thought strike than I sent up a silent
Please forgive me for being a dumbass—er, that is, an ignorant idiot. Amen.

Hey, I’m a vampire, not an atheist. Besides, it was a once-upon-a-time church, for Damien’s sake.

Oops.

I did another
excusez moi
and my right shoulder gave another twinge. I balled my fingers and prayed (that’s
meditated
if my mother should ask) that the Benadryl would kick in.

I perked my ears, trying to pick up any nearby voices as I tapped my shoulder to relieve the itchy sensation. Apparently the choir crowd had already finished up their coffee cake. Not a peep drifted from the surrounding buildings. A quick peek outside confirmed my thoughts. The buildings surrounding us were dark. I slapped at my shoulder again. Once. Twice. Ugh.

The itch, along with several red welts, had spread to my chest by the time Mama finally showed up at close to ten o’clock.

She wore an old purple smock covered with a clear plastic apron and a pair of goggles.

I arched an eyebrow at the rubber galoshes covering her feet.

She shrugged. “Once they start vomiting, it can get pretty deep.”

I glanced down at my own flip-flops. Now she tells me.

“Where do you want her?” Crusher asked as he pushed through the doors, Margaret Weisenbaum bundled in his arms. Her hands and feet were tied, her mouth taped. He hefted the old woman, a gleeful look in his eyes as if he’d finally gotten to have a little fun instead of just playing chauffeur.

Uh-oh. Here we go again with the layers.

“Next to the altar,” Mama told her son as she led him toward the front of the building and Evie.

I was right behind them.

I tapped Mama on the shoulder. “What’s she doing here?”

“The demon has to go somewhere, dear. I can barely fit my triple D’s into this girdle. There’s no room for a tic tac, much less a demon. And you”—she spared a glance at me—“you don’t strike me as the usual deserving vampire.”

“Not snotty enough?”

“Not bloodthirsty enough. When was the last time you’ve actually bitten someone?”

Okay, so like my last “official” chomp had been Ty. But I’d been wounded and delirious with pain and he’d instigated it.

No, the last time I’d actually stalked someone and sunk my fangs into his neck had been back during Prohibition. The Ninas and I had been at a flapper party and we’d had a little too much to drink (isn’t that always how it starts?). Anyhow, I’d been out of it and he’d been right there and one thing had led to another, and bam, I’d drunk. But I hadn’t enjoyed it. At least, I don’t think I did. The next morning, I’d had a whopper of a headache and a mountain of regret. The entire experience had furthered the point that I was sick of one-night stands. I’d hitched a ride on the No-Biting Express and had been bouncing along ever since.

Until Ty.

“I sort of scarfed on someone a few months back.”

“Sort of?”

“I didn’t want to,” I admitted.

“My point exactly. What vampire doesn’t want to bite people?” She shook her head. “You’d be easy pickings for this demon.”

“I’ve faced him before and he didn’t jump ship.”

“Was he possessing a human?” I nodded and she added, “Then that’s why. No demon would willingly jump ship into a vampire unless he had no other choice. If his current vessel were dying or he were being forced out by the Almighty Himself and had no place else to go.” She motioned to Margaret, who now lay a few feet away from Evie. “That woman’s so hateful she wouldn’t notice if Satan himself jumped in. Spies on everyone in the neighborhood and is always making trouble. She even tried to kill my precious little Marlon Brando.”

“Poison?”

She nodded. “Served him up a great big chocolate fudge cake. She swears she didn’t do it, but I smelled the chocolate in her house when I went over to confront her. I even saw the cake pans sitting in the sink, too.”

Margaret murmured “circumstantial” which, because of the tape, came out more like
“shhirrm-melcha.”

“She did it,” Mama declared, sparing a glare for the woman before motioning Crusher to leave us alone and wait in the car. “I know she did it.”

I knew, too.

I took one look into Margaret Weisenbaum’s eyes (minus the night-vision goggles this time) and I saw a rap sheet a mile long.

She’d served up her infamous three-tiered chocolate cake with fudge filling and dark chocolate sprinkles to twelve of the neighborhood dogs, including Marlon. He’d been the only survivor because Mama had taken him to the vet right away. The other animals had died a slow, painful death. She’d also “accidentally” spilled antifreeze in the neighborhood bird baths. She’d taken out eight cats, sixteen birds, and all of Mr. Schwartz’s goldfish. She’d paintballed Mr. Jackowski’s fence and ripped up Mrs. Wallingford’s rose bushes, and she’d even stolen a case of Thin Mints from Mr. Berryman’s granddaughter’s wagon when the little girl had been going door-to-door.

I patted her hand. “Good to have you, Mrs. Weisenbaum.” Stealing Girl Scout cookies? Talk about a one-way ticket straight to Hell.

I excused myself to make a quick call to Ash. I got his voice mail and left a message for him to meet me at the church as soon as he got the message. I gave a quick confession that Evie was the one possessed, but told him not to worry because I had things under control and was going to save her.

My plan? A super-quick exorcism while Ash was en route. Then by the time he arrived, I could hand over Mrs. Weisenbaum, aka The Demon, and let him handle things from there.

I made a mental note to remember the antifreeze the next time Killer annihilated a pair of my shoes and reached into my pocket for the bottle of Benadryl. I downed another long swig, slapped at the itchies spreading across my chest, and turned to Mama. “Let’s do it.”

I watched as Mama retrieved her giant patent leather purse and started pulling out various items—her bible, a book of prayers, a beaded rosary, a long purple stole, a medal of St. Benedict that matched the one worn around her neck, a large crucifix, several handkerchiefs, a vial containing holy water, and a ton of votive candles.

She spent the next few minutes lighting one after the other until the altar blazed with soft, flickering light.

“I didn’t realize candles were such an important part of an exorcism.”

“They’re not. They set the mood and help mask the smell.” She eyeballed Evie and waved a hand in front of her face. “I swear this is worse than Vinnie and Crusher after a pot of my corned beef and cabbage.”

She put her matches away and reached for the extra St. Benedict medal. “Put this on. It’s not foolproof, but it’ll help protect you during the exorcism.” She placed the stole around her own neck, doused her handkerchiefs with holy water, crossed herself, and reached for her bible. “Let’s get this party started.”

She took the end of the stole and slid it around Evie’s neck.

At first Evie hissed and bucked against her restraints, but after a few seconds, she collapsed back atop the altar. Mama pulled the tape from Evie’s mouth and an agonized wail pierced the air.

Ouch.

“Our Father who art in heaven,”
Mama started, launching into the opening prayer. The candles flared, the flames popping and crackling before dying a quick death. Smoke curled into the air and a rush of cold wind whispered over my skin. A loud drumming echoed through the room and thundered in my ears.

I chanced a glance at Mrs. Weisenbaum. Her eyes went wide, but not from fear. Expectancy gleamed hot and bright as she watched the exorcism unfold.

Mama kept reciting prayers, pausing every now and then to touch the crucifix to Evie’s forehead. Skin sizzled and the smell of burned flesh made even a bloodthirsty
vampere
like me want to toss her cookies.

But Evie was doing enough of that for the both of us. And levitating. And snarling. And cursing.

I held tight to the St. Benedict medal, which was making my palms itch even more than my shoulders and chest.

Meanwhile, Mama kept going. After several more prayers, she made the sign of the cross over Evie and demanded, “Who are you demon? Reveal yourself.”

After a lot of snarling and spitting, the demon finally admitted the truth—he was the spirit of the deceased serial killer from the sixties. Score one for Ash.

“A newbie in demon years,” Mama told me. “This shouldn’t take long.” She wiped Evie’s barf-stained cheeks with the handkerchiefs drenched in holy water and ordered the demon out.

“Leave this woman,” she bellowed. Over and over. Until Evie opened her mouth and screamed.

It was a man’s voice at first, but the louder the screams grew, the higher the pitch became, until a burst of flames erupted behind the altar. Evie bucked and gasped one last time and a putrid green mist spiraled from her mouth.

The mist took on its own form until the shadow of a vicious-looking creature hovered above us. He looked like a cross between a dragon and a lizard. Fangs gleamed in the dim light and a forked tail whipped at the air.

Mama kept praying, pushing the demon father away from Evie until he hovered over Mrs. Weisenbaum. Mama leaned forward and snatched the tape from her neighbor’s mouth.

Mrs. Weisenbaum let loose a string of cuss words before she opened wide, as if to say
“mi casa es su casa”
to the forked demon.

But instead of taking her up on her offer and diving inside, the demon pulled back. A split second later, I realized why.

A nearly identical green mist poured from the old woman’s mouth and hovered just above her face. I heard a hiss and a “Find your own fucking body,” before Mrs. Weisenbaum sucked the mist back into her mouth and clamped her lips shut. Her eyes flashed a bright yellow before dimming to their usual color.

Well. That explained it.

“It figures,” Mama murmured. She grasped her crucifix and held it up. “The demon’s got nowhere to go now.”

Who knew demons had a no-double-occupancy policy?

A wave of panic shot through me and my mind raced. “What do we do now?”

Her gaze shifted from the demon to Mrs. Weisenbaum to me. “We run.”

I made it halfway across the room (bless my preternatural feet) before I heard the tormented wail. It pierced my ears and sent another bolt of panic through me. I picked up my steps and was
this close
to the door when I felt the icy grip snake around my neck. Something jerked my head backwards and suddenly I was flat on my back on the hard floor. I stared up in time to see the demon hovering over me, his mouth open, his fangs glittering.

“You’re so screwed,” he spat.