Succubus Blues. Richelle Mead

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      “If you guys want to party with all ten people in Montana, then you’re welcome to move there. Now stop wasting time.”

      Ignoring me, Peter eyed the red carnations I’d bought the other night. I’d put them in a vase near the kitchen sink. “Who sent you flowers?”

      “No one.”

      “You sent yourself flowers?” asked Cody, his voice quaking with sympathy.

      “No, I just bought them. It’s not the same. I didn’t—look. Why are we talking about this when there’s an alleged vampire killer on the loose? Are you two in danger?”

      Peter finally opted for water but tossed beers to Hugh and Cody. “Nope.”

      “We aren’t?” Cody seemed surprised to learn this. His scant years as a vampire practically made him a baby compared to the rest of us. Peter was teaching him “the trade,” so to speak.

      “Vampire hunters are simply special mortals born with the ability to inflict real damage to vampires. Mortals in general can’t touch us, of course. Don’t ask me how or why this all works; there’s no system as far as I can tell. Most so-called vampire hunters go through life without even realizing they have this talent. The ones who do sometimes decide to make a career out of it. They pop up like this from time to time, picking off the occasional vampire, making a general nuisance of themselves until some enterprising vampire or demon takes them out.”

      “‘Nuisance’?” asked Cody incredulously. “Even after Duane? Aren’t you the least bit worried about this person coming after you? After us?”

      “No,” said Peter. “I am not.”

      I shared Cody’s confusion. “Why not?”

      “Because this person, whoever he or she is, is a total amateur.” Peter glanced over at Hugh and me. “What did Jerome say about Duane’s death?”

      Deciding I needed a drink myself, I raided my kitchen liquor cabinet and made a vodka gimlet. “He wanted to know if I did it.”

      Peter made a dismissive gesture. “No, about how he died.”

      Hugh frowned, apparently trying to piece together the logic afoot. “He said that Duane had been found dead—with a stake through his heart.”

      “There. You see?”

      Peter looked at us expectantly. We all looked back, baffled.

      “I don’t get it,” I finally said.

      Peter sighed, again looking utterly put out. “If you are a mortal who has the semidivine ability to kill a vampire, it doesn’t fucking matter how you do it. You can use a gun, a knife, a candlestick, or whatever. The stake through the heart thing is hearsay. If a normal mortal does it to a vampire, it won’t do a damned thing except really piss the vampire off. We only hear about it when a vampire hunter does it, so it carries some special superstitious lure, when really, it’s only like that egg thing on the equinoxes.”

      “What?” Hugh looked totally lost.

      I rubbed my eyes. “I actually know what he’s talking about, as scary as that is to admit. There’s this urban myth that eggs balance on their ends during the equinoxes. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t, but the truth is, you’d get the same results any time of the year. People only try it on the equinoxes, however, so that’s all anyone notices.” I glanced over at Peter. “Your point is that a vampire hunter could kill a vampire in any number of ways, but because the stake gets all the attention, that’s what has become the accepted method of…‘revocation of immortality.’”

      “In people’s minds,” he corrected. “In reality, it’s a pain in the ass to drive a stake through someone’s heart. A lot easier to shoot them.”

      “And so you think this hunter is an amateur because…” Cody trailed off, obviously unconvinced by the compelling egg analogy.

      “Because any vampire hunter worth his or her snuff knows that and wouldn’t use a stake. This person’s a total newbie.”

      “First,” I advised Peter, “don’t say ‘worth his snuff.’ That expression’s out-of-style and makes you sound dated. Second, maybe this hunter was just trying to be old-school or something. And even if this person is a ‘newbie,’ does it really matter since they managed to take out Duane?”

      Peter shrugged. “He was an arrogant asshole. Vampires can sense vampire hunters at close range. Combined with this one’s inexperience, Duane should have never been taken. He was stupid.”

      I opened my mouth to counter this. I would be among the first to agree that Duane had indeed been both arrogant and an asshole, but stupid he was not. Immortals could not live as long as we did and see as many things as we did without gleaning substantial know-how and street smarts. We grew up quickly, so to speak.

      Another question moved to the forefront of my reasoning. “Can these hunters hurt other immortals? Or just vampires?”

      “Only vampires, as far as I know.”

      Something didn’t add up here between Peter’s comments and Jerome’s. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what was bothering me exactly, so I kept my misgivings to myself as the others chatted on. The vampire hunter topic soon became passé, once they’d decided—with some disappointment—I hadn’t contracted anybody. Cody and Hugh also seemed content to buy Peter’s theory that an amateur hunter posed no real threat.

      “Be careful, you two,” I warned the vampires when they were getting ready to leave. “Newbie or no, Duane is still dead.”

      “Yes, Mom,” answered Peter disinterestedly, putting on his coat.

      I gave Cody a sharp look, and he squirmed a bit. He was easier to manipulate than his mentor. “I’ll be careful, Georgina.”

      “Call me if anything weird happens.”

      He nodded, earning an eye roll from Peter. “Come on,” said the older vampire. “Let’s get some dinner.”

      I had to smile at that. While vampires getting dinner might have frightened most people, I knew better. Peter and Cody both hated hunting human victims. They did it on occasion but rarely killed when they did. Most of their sustenance came from extra-rare butcher shop purchases. Like me, they were half-assing their infernal jobs.

      “Hugh,” I said sharply as he was about to follow the vampires out. “A word, please.”

      The vampires gave Hugh sympathetic looks before leaving. The imp grimaced, closing the door and facing me.

      “Hugh, I gave you that key for emergencies—”

      “Vampire murder doesn’t constitute an emergency?”

      “I’m serious! It’s bad enough Jerome and Carter can teleport in here without you deciding to open up my home to God and the world.”

      “I don’t think God was invited tonight.”

      “And then, you went and told them about the demon-girl СКАЧАТЬ