"You know the Council is going to ask how you managed to turn a female before they take your head, don't you?" Harry asked a second question while stuffing the purse inside his briefcase.
"The Council need not know," Edward sniffed. He was more than three hundred years old and felt superior much of the time, while Harry was a mere eighty-four and beneath Edward's notice. "Sergio and I intend to track her down and eliminate the problem." Edward examined his fingernails. They were perfect, as usual.
"Edward, you know how scarce females are among our kind," Harry was nearly begging. "At least turn her over to the Council—anonymously if you can."
"There is too much danger that we will be discovered. She was, as you might say, not an ideal candidate in the Council's eyes."
"That doesn't alter the fact that she exists," Harry pressed. "For good or bad, she's vampire. Can't you give her a chance?"
"We dare not. There are more lives at stake than hers." Edward was finished with the conversation, Harry could tell. He sighed a little. "Fine. If I hear anything, I'll let you know."
"See that you do," Edward gave Harry a final look and turned quickly, leaving the younger vampire standing in the alley outside the cellar. Harry was originally from Missouri, born in an era when Jazz and Swing were popular. He'd never even heard of the Flaming Lips.
* * *
The hunger wasn't debilitating when I woke at sunset so I lay there, staring at the ceiling of the circular, prefab tornado shelter I'd slept in while thinking about Don. Since everyone knew I was missing, I wondered if Don's brother David had gone ahead and planned a funeral. Sighing, I slipped off the small bench I'd slept on and walked up steep, narrow steps, cautiously lifting the door. My ears and nose told me more than my eyes; except for a dog barking far off, it was safe to come out.
Once outside the shelter, I headed toward to the Cadillac. It sat there, thankfully, in the same spot I'd left it. A trip to Walmart was in the offing—I couldn't keep wearing the same clothes and I needed a shower. The synthetic, elastic-waisted slacks I wore were threatening to drop if I moved too quickly and my blouse had twisted around me while I'd slept in it.
The envelope I'd taken from home held exactly six thousand dollars in cash. It was Don's funeral expense money, but what else was I supposed to do? Wandering the aisles in Walmart later, I picked up jeans, blouses, socks, bras and underwear. A couple pairs of athletic shoes—white and black—went into my basket, too. A coin-operated Laundromat was my next stop, where I washed my new clothes. Perhaps someone else can wear new jeans without washing them. I can't. The smell of the dye alone offended my senses now. I'd picked up a cell phone too, while I'd been at Walmart, the kind you can pay for your minutes in advance. I called David's number on it, since that was the only way to find out where things stood.
David was Don's only brother, and he'd be the one making arrangements in my absence. We'd never been close, but I had to find out what was going on. David's wife, Sara, answered the phone. Disguising my voice as best I could, I identified myself as a cousin from out of state.
"I just heard the news," I said. "Can you tell me what's going on?"
"Well, we buried Don two days ago," Sara replied. "They found Lissa's car in the Oklahoma River, but they haven't found her body yet."
I had to clap a hand over my mouth to hold back the gasp that threatened to escape. The Oklahoma River was several miles away from the bar where I'd been attacked. Ed and Serge had gone to great lengths to hide their crime. "So, they're pretty sure she's dead?" I asked after getting myself under control.
"Yes. A shame, don't you think? Probably suicide." Sara clucked for a few seconds as she imagined a more mundane death for me. "Lissa and Don were really close, you know," she continued. "We've already talked to her place of employment—Lissa took a leave of absence while Don was in the hospital. She worked for one of the judges downtown, you know."
"What's next, then?" I asked, working to keep the quiver from my voice. My job, my friends, my home—everything was gone, now. I knew David and Sara would have to get the courts to declare me legally dead before claiming any insurance money, but I figured that was already in the works.
"David's already got a lawyer," Sara was reading my mind. "We're working on getting everything straightened out. You're not going to believe this, though. Somebody broke into the house, stole Don's old Cadillac and a few other things and then ransacked the place. We have to put new doors on and we're getting a security system installed so it won't happen again." My house was worth around two hundred thousand and it was paid for. Yeah, they'd get a security system to cover their assets. I also had two hundred thousand in a life insurance policy. Sara had always been a little on the mercenary side, so it was no surprise that they had a lawyer. I'd have to ditch the Cadillac, too, since it was reported stolen.
After loading my freshly laundered clothing into the Cadillac, I drove to a nearby motel, hoping I could get a room without having ID or a credit card. The young man behind the front desk might have been torn between calling the police and hiding behind the counter when I walked in. Getting a good look at myself in the mirror behind the desk, I could see why. My eyes were red. Not red from lack of sleep or crying for hours. These eyes were bright red. Blood red. I'd smelled blood the minute I'd walked into the place. Someone had been bleeding. I caught sight of the desk clerk's hand; two fingers were bandaged. It was his blood I'd scented.
"I need a room," I almost growled at him.
"Y-yes ma'am," he stuttered.
"Stop being frightened, I'm not going to hurt you," I snapped. The immediate difference was astounding. The guy straightened right up and became professional.
"I'll need your ID and credit card," he said.
"I don't need to give my ID and credit card. This will be cash only, for one night," I growled.
"Yes ma'am," he tapped at his computer. "Your name?"
"You don't need my name. Give me a key."
"Yes, ma'am." More tapping. "Room 206. Elevator is around the corner. He handed a key card over. I gave him cash for the room.
"You don't remember what I look like," I added as a precaution and went to get a few things out of the car.
The shower felt really good. Vampires clearly appreciate warm water as well as anyone. I changed into new jeans and a long-sleeved T afterward. I hadn't been able to tuck in my blouses since I was in high school but I did now, taking a good look at my image in the mirror. My hair was strawberry blond again, like it had been in my youth and my eyes were a clear blue. My skin was now flawless, whereas it hadn't been before and well, I had a figure. A nice one. I was having difficulty reconciling what I'd been only a few days before and what was reflected in the mirror now. My jeans? A size six, thank you. When Ed and Serge had attacked me, I'd been a size sixteen and for somebody five-one, that's big. I'd always joked with my co-workers at the courthouse that I resembled an egg. No more egg. And I looked to be in my early twenties, on top of that. Trashing my old clothes on the way out of the motel, I slid into the Cadillac and went looking for a place to leave it.