Chapter Twenty-Three
MASIE
“Did you pick up my dry cleaning and sweep the porch?” I called out to Roman, my vampire companion, from the kitchen.
“Yes, my queen,” he yelled back from the other room.
“Good. Because everyone’s going to be here in a few minutes, and I want it to be perfect.”
Today was Daddy’s fiftieth birthday. He was a vampire now, but that didn’t mean we shouldn’t celebrate. Every day of life, immortal or mortal, was a gift.
Especially considering everything we’d been through lately—derailing a vampire takeover, squashing a vampire war, and convincing five hundred thousand vampires to retreat to my island, while another one and a half million, who never came out, had to agree to stay that way.
I’d been so busy meeting and negotiating with the vampire covens, traveling to every corner of the globe during the roundup, that I’d barely had time to see my family.
Thank goodness that Daddy, Uncle Jimmie, Maybell, Mamma, and even Joe were handling the Rooster and whiskey business.
As the vampire queen, my plate was full. And we still needed to round up a few thousand more vampires who had refused my orders.
I pulled my sour cream cornbread from the oven and set it on the counter next to my fried chicken, greens, and potato salad. A pitcher of blood, purchased from Rosco at the trailer park, was sitting in the fridge. It was Daddy’s favorite on account of he liked his Crisco-flavored humans.
I ran upstairs and changed into my yellow summer dress with spaghetti straps and slid on my white flats. I wrapped my hair up in a twist and clipped it into place.
“Just smile.” I looked at myself in the mirror, ignoring the bags under my eyes from lack of sleep. Honestly, I felt fantastic. Happy. There just weren’t enough hours in the day, or night, to get everything done.
The doorbell rang, and my heart lit up with joy. “They’re here!”
I rushed downstairs to the front door of my new mansion. I wasn’t sure if I liked the place—way too many dusty antiques—but Daddy’s maker, some “old family friend,” according to Daddy, had left it to me.
Why?
He said that the vampire lived alone, and when he died, he thought it should go to someone who’d put it to good use.
What the hell would I do with three wine cellars or two sex rooms? And that front door? God bless it. It was a wooden monster, carved with vines and strange symbols.
Roman, who wore his favorite baby blue muscle shirt and tiny shorts, met me at the door just as I was about to open it.
“No. You go change this minute,” I said. “Mamma doesn’t want to see your gun show again.” A lie. Mamma loved it. So did Maybell. But Daddy’s birthday wasn’t the place.
“But, Masie…” he whined. “I found a new baby oil. Really shows off my peek-terrier muscles.”
Roman had his uses, but whatever had been done to him during his human life had left him one squirrel short of a squirrel hat. The vampire could fight, though. He also made an excellent bodyguard, which I needed. Danger was everywhere.
In fact, I’d just heard that they’d caught the notorious Montgomery Stark—some ancient vampire who’d refused to retreat to my island.
Apparently, Mr. Stark had been raising an army at one point and had very devout followers. I could not allow a vampire like him to roam free.
In order for my plan to work, I needed everyone focused on my plan to undo the Great Outing. In addition, we had new sleeping chambers to build on the island, a blood supply chain to work out, and thousands of vampire estates that needed legal work so that my people wouldn’t lose their stuff.
Roman ran off to change, and I opened the big heavy door.
“Daddy! Happy birthday!” I let him and Mamma in, giving them both hugs.
“Thank you, darlin’,” he said. “Everyone else will be here in a minute. Maybell insisted on drivin’.”
“Uh-oh. Get ready to turn some humans tonight,” I joked. Maybell had just bought her first car. A used Suburban. It was only a matter of time before she killed someone.
“Let’s get you drinks while we wait,” I said.
Mamma and Daddy followed me to the living room with modern white furniture, too sterile for my taste, and murals of clouds and angels on the ceiling. They sort of gave me the heebies.
I poured Mamma some spiked sweet tea, and Daddy some wine.
“Mmmm…1980. I can almost taste the volcanic eruption,” Daddy said after a sip.
“That’s right. Mount Saint Helens,” I said. “You do have a nose.”
“Master taught me everything I know—”
“Honey.” Mamma elbowed Daddy.
What was it with Daddy’s maker? He’d left me this house, but no one wanted to talk about him.
“Why does everyone act all weird when Daddy’s maker is brought up?” I asked.
Roman sauntered into the room wearing an orange tuxedo.
I rolled my eyes. Wrong decade, buddy.
“Are we discussing Montgomery Stark?” Roman asked.
“No,” I said. “I’m asking them why no one wants to talk about Daddy’s maker.”
“Yeah, Stark,” Roman said. “I heard they just caught him. He’s down in the jail.”
“Roman!” Daddy barked. “You idiot. Shut your trap, or I will shut it for you.”
“Daddy?” I blinked. “What’s going on?”
Everyone went silent.
I huffed. “Okay. Fine. I’ll just ask the man myself. Where’s this jail?” I asked Roman.
“Do not—” Daddy growled at Roman.
“Daddy, Roman has sworn allegiance to me. Are you tellin’ him to break his vow?”
“Downstairs,” Roman barked out. “Your jail is downstairs.”
“Excuse me? You mean the wine cellar?” I said.
“The other downstairs,” Mamma said.