Page 23 of Good Vampires Go to Heaven

With a deep sigh, Regina lay down on the sand next to Zeb. Even in his emaciated condition, he would be too heavy for her to lift. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him as best she could, and lifted one leg over his thighs. It was uncomfortable here on this rough beach but she managed to find a relatively smooth position. Tucking her face into his neck, she tried to concentrate on moving the two of them through space without actually standing.

Nothing happened.

Well, it might take time.

“You smell like cinnamon,” Zeb said softly. “Those tiny red candies. Cinnamon hearts. Sweet, but then they zap you with a hot, spicy bite. Yes. Sweet zing.”

She laughed. “Was that a compliment?”

“No.”

“Well, you smell like rain. That probably sounds crazy. Especially after all your months of torture, without ever bathing. You should smell rank, like a rabid skunk. Instead, rain! You’re probably thinking that rain doesn’t actually have a smell.”

Zeb moved his head in mild protest. “Yes, it does. Rain on a vineyard has a definite scent. Rain on a child’s hair does, too. Raindrops in a woman’s cupped hands. Rain after a long dry spell.” He paused and smiled, despite his cracked lips. “Rain is a good thing.”

Regina was surprised that he’d managed to string so many words together in his condition. Perhaps it was a good sign. “Cinnamon rain? Some combination,” she remarked, trying to envelop him more closely without hurting him more.

And that seemed to be the trigger because with a rush of energy the two of them were levitating, twirling about above the bungalow like in the center of a typhoon, then suddenly they were inside, lying on a white-sheeted bed. Quickly, as soon as the dizziness left her, she extricated herself from Zeb’s body (he’d landed with her one arm pinned under his shoulders) and adjusted his body better to the center of the mattress. Then she left the room and saw Beau standing before an open closet, studying a chart on the door and operating various switches. Patience and Grimelda were just coming in the front door, Patience sprightly, Grimelda huffing like a locomotive.

“Aren’t you done yet?” Patience sniped at Beau. “You could have helped us up the steps. I had to half carry Grimelda most of the way.”

“You did not,” Grimelda said, leaning against a wall to get her breath.

“Bite me, Patience,” Beau said.

“Sure. Just move your big fat head over here. One puncture and it will deflate. There’s nothing but air in there anyway.”

“Ha, ha, ha!” Beau said, then flicked a lever which caused a loud sound outside. He made a fist pump into the air before declaring, “Cajuns rule!”

Patience rolled her eyes.

“I need a basin of warm water,” Regina interjected before they continued with their squabbling. “Wash cloths and towels. And some tools. Pliers and a wire cutter, if possible.”

“Ah’ll find the tools,” Beau offered. “But first, Ah gotta turn on the generator so ya’ll kin have electricity fer hot water and lights and such. A small solar generator kept the fridge workin’, but the big, gas-powered one is turned off.”

Regina wouldn’t have even thought of such a thing. Nor known how to fix them. Showed how ill-prepared she was for this mission. She couldn’t think about that now. “I’ll check out the bathroom cabinets for any antiseptics and pain meds. I doubt if there will be any antibiotics, but you never know.”

“I have herbs in my bag,” Grimelda said. “I’ll set them to brewing right away, soon as we get a fire going.”

For just a moment, Regina was glad to have company. Others to help her. She glanced around for the first time at the large living room with glass doors leading out to a deck which overlooked the beautiful Caribbean waters. In the distance, she saw a couple of dolphins romping in the waves. Truly, a paradise.

The living room was sparsely furnished with a buttery yellow leather couch and two matching recliners. On the walls were fine paintings and a flat-screen television. Through a wide, curved archway she could see a kitchen with high-end appliances and red granite countertops. All very bright and cheerful.

Suddenly, she heard the sound of a motor turning over and then the hum of the overhead fan turning. The generator. Good!

She found antiseptic ointments in the bathroom, along with rolls of gauze, Band-Aids, and over-the-counter type pain pills. There was a wine cabinet off the living room, which was interesting but of no use to her at the moment. A bottle of whiskey above the fridge would come in handy, though.

She was about to return to the bedroom where Beau was exiting. He handed her a pair of needle-nosed pliers and clippers more suited to pruning branches than delicate barbed wire penises. “He’s becoming delirious, I think.”

“Oh?” she said, walking into the room to see Zeb rolling from side to side, perspiration streaming down his face and beading his chest, despite the air conditioner that was starting to blow cool air and the ceiling fan. There was blood around the barbed wire.

“Red hot,” Zeb pleaded. “Need red hot.”

Jeesh! Even in a fever, he’s smelling my cinnamon, or thinking he smells it.

“Is he talking about you? Does he call you Red Hot?” Beau asked.

“No! He’s referring to those red hot candies. You know, cinnamon hearts? The kind that are sweet at first, but when you bite into them, they burn your tongue.” She glanced over at Beau and bald-faced lied, with a straight face, even, “Some people in the midst of a fever crave cinnamon.”