Over My Dead Body Read online

  They would judge me.

  Maybe the paranormal world wasn’t so different from the human world, after all.

  Patrick crouched near Brady, but there was nothing he could do. I’d made sure of it.

  I returned my gaze to the sky. A circle formed around the moon; its red glow stained the white orb just like the blood I’d moments ago spilled. It was almost time. I had to wait only a little while longer.

  “Why, Simone?” Patrick asked quietly. “Why did you kill him?”

  Strangely enough, I had killed Brady and Jacob for the same reason.

  Freedom.

  Damian put the cuffs on me. Patrick explained that the ornate silver was imbued with fairy magic. I wouldn’t be able to get out of them.

  Duh.

  Brady was dead. And with Gran and Glory . . . I shook off the heinous thoughts. I’d already lost everything important to me. I was hollow inside, but at the same time, the power within was an uncurling viper, readying to strike. Brady’s blood throbbed inside me, giving me more strength than I’d ever had before.

  “Damian, return to the festival and guard the queen,” said Ruadan. “Take her to the hospital, Patrick. Dr. Merrick wants to see her.”

  “I’m standing here,” I pointed out. “You don’t have to talk about me in third person.”

  Ruadan and Patrick ignored me.

  My gaze fell on the body of Brady. Ruadan magicked up a sheet to cover Brady. I was grateful for that kindness.

  “Simone,” said Patrick. His voice was soft with empathy. How could he be nice to me after what I did? “We need to go now.”

  “To Dr. Merrick.”

  He nodded. I could see in his gaze that he thought I was nuts. Being crazy was an acceptable excuse for all that I’d done. But here’s the thing: I wasn’t insane.

  Patrick wrapped his arms around me, presumably to do the ol’ gold-sparkly trick and get me to the hospital. None of them knew it, but I was the least of their worries.

  I couldn’t stop looking at the man I’d killed, or rather at the sheet that outlined his form. Oh, Brady. My insides quivered, and I felt the heaviness of sorrow. I pushed it back.

  No, I couldn’t afford grief.

  Not yet.

  Chapter 2

  Six days earlier

  Saturday, June 15

  “That’s a very fine ass,” whispered Her Royal Highness Patricia Marchand. “A definite ten.”

  More like an eleven. My gaze had been roving the object of our mutual assessment for the last five minutes, which was how Queen Patsy caught me. But after taking a gander at the jeans-clad buttocks of Braddock Hayes, she seemed to understand why my gaze was superglued to the view.

  “Simone Sweet,” said Patsy under her breath, “you have a naughty streak.”

  I only smiled. I might be dead, but my eyes still worked—not to mention various other parts. Granted, certain parts hadn’t been in use longer than others, but that was okay by me. Vampires had to be finicky about that sort of stuff, anyway. Having sex meant saying “I do” for a hundred years.

  No, thank you.

  Patsy and I returned to watching the scenery. She was married to a very hot man named Gabriel, and, in fact, probably shouldn’t be ogling Brady. Not that I was gonna tell her to stop.

  Even though it had been dark for at least an hour, it was still ten degrees hotter than hell. Winter had stretched on and on, clawing greedily into April. Spring had lasted all of ten seconds. The heat had rolled in, sucking all the joy out of the smallest breeze. Now it was the second week of June and we’d been afflicted by the roasting heat that usually tormented us in August. Since I was a vampire, I wasn’t sweating buckets. I didn’t have to breathe in the liquefied air, but I could still feel it rattling in my useless lungs.

  Brady, however, was very much human and prone to sweating. He stopped wrangling with the equipment and stood up, whipping off his T-shirt. I’d been eyeballing him for a while now. He had moved to Broken Heart in February; he was a former member of the Paranormal Research and Investigation Services. Our resident dragon, Libby, and her parents, who had founded PRIS, lived here, too.

  Brady and I had kind of become friends. I used the term loosely because, really, I didn’t have friends. Oh, I knew people in town, and most of ’em were friendly enough. I was just real careful not to get too close to anyone.

  Come to think of it, Brady was probably the one here who knew the most about me and my family—and that wasn’t a whole lot.

  My gaze returned to the man who was doing such a good job of occupying my thoughts.

  “Oh, my God,” Patsy and I breathed together. We looked at each other, then at the glistening muscles of a half-naked Brady. I’d seen this view before, but I never tired of it. Brady was a hard worker, and smarter than everyone here—even Doc Michaels. But he wasn’t the sort to shoot the shit.

  He had a linebacker build—big, broad, muscled. His tanned skin was scarred with slashes and pock-marked with holes. Knives and bullets, I was sure—though I’d never asked. According to the rumor mill, he was a man who’d literally survived the slings and arrows of life, a life I could only guess at. But I knew a thing or two about surviving, and maybe that’s why I admired Brady. And maybe, too, it was why he sorta scared me. I had a few scars myself, inside and out. Even though he’d never given me a reason to fear him—well, I had the kind of terrified feeling in me that never went away.

  We stepped back as Brady maneuvered the fifty-sixth pole into place. One hundred and thirteen of the five-foot-tall, six-inch-wide metallic poles would be installed around Broken Heart’s perimeter. Calculations for where they needed to go had taken nearly as long to complete as making the darned things. I should know, since I was the one who built the outer casings. All the whirligigs on the inside had been created by Brady and Doc Michaels. I didn’t understand the technology, but I knew how to work with anything made of metal, and I could fix just about any mechanical device.

  Part of my job was helping to work the bugs out of the individual components; every single pole would have to play nice with the others to get the Invisi-shield up and running. Once it was operational, it would be the same as if Broken Heart had disappeared from Oklahoma’s map.

  “I’ve done my official freaking duty. My feet are killing me,” said Patsy, rubbing her very pregnant belly. “I’m gonna be a cliché and go home to eat ice cream and pickles.”

  I laughed. Patsy was nearly eight months along with triplets. Having babies was a perk of being vampire and werewolf—you were kinda alive. She and Gabriel were the only loup de sang in the whole wide world—at least until their children were born.

  Up until June of last year, Patsy had been Broken Heart’s only beautician, and I’d been the town’s only mechanic. My role hadn’t changed much, but Patsy had become queen of not only the undead, but also the furry. Well, she wasn’t quite official on that score. Even though the original seven Ancients had turned over their undead Families to Patsy’s rule (not all willingly, mind you), the lycanthropes were a more traditional bunch. Broken Heart had been chosen to host the annual Moon Goddess festival, where Patsy would receive the official blessing of the priestesses. Then she’d have the additional headache of bossing around werewolves.

  “Hey, there’s my ride,” said Patsy.

  A white Mercedes glided over the field, stopping when it was next to Patsy. In the driver’s seat was Gabriel. His moon-white hair was drawn into a long ponytail, framing his handsome face. He had the most amazing gold eyes, eyes that were only for Patsy, as she maneuvered herself into the car.

  “How are the shocks?” I asked, leaning in as Patsy strapped on her seat belt.

  “It rides smooth as silk,” said Gabriel. “Even off the road. It was amazing work, Simone.” He grinned. “Too bad it’s not dragon-proof.”

  In February, their last Mercedes had been blown up by a pissed-off dragon. Now we had one living in Broken Heart—Libby. She was married to a vampire named Ralph, who was dad
dy to the cutest twin toddlers. Libby and Ralph were gonna have the first dragon born in five hundred years. Needless to say, they’d been busy fireproofing their new house and everything in it.

  I patted the side of the car and chuckled. “I’m working on it, Gabriel. One miracle at a time.”

  My gaze was drawn to Patsy’s belly—three miracles in there, and almost ready to come out, too. I looked at Patsy and grinned. I was thrilled for her. She deserved some happiness.

  “If the shield works we won’t need to worry about fireballs blowing shit up,” said Patsy. “You take care, hon.”

  “You, too.” I shut the door, and off they went.

  I watched the Mercedes wheel around and head toward the dirt road. Even though I wasn’t exactly part of the town, at least not the way most folks were, I really did like the people here. But I’d also learned the danger of getting too close to others—and I couldn’t shake the habit of keeping myself to myself.

  “Hello, my friends,” shouted a German-accented voice. The man jogging toward us was Reiner Blutwolf. He was an old friend of our resident lycanthrope security detail, three gorgeous triplets whom I really didn’t have much to do with. Truth be told, they were even scarier than Brady—especially Damian. That guy almost never smiled. The closest he ever came was when he was around the jovial Reiner, who oozed charm.

  I was probably the only one in Broken Heart who didn’t buy his act.

  He always had candy bars tucked into the top pocket of his work shirts. I’d never known a lycanthrope with that kind of sweet tooth.

  “Hello, Simone,” he said, flashing a blindingly white smile. What did he brush his teeth with? Bleach? Maybe he chewed on Greenies or something. Oh, now . . . that was mean.

  I grinned broadly. Nobody could out-jolly me. I had perfected the art of hiding behind bright smiles and perky attitudes. I could make Pollyanna look like the Grinch. “Hello, Reiner. You doin’ all right?”

  “I am now that I’ve seen your smile.”

  Oh, puh-lease. His bright blue eyes were on mine, and I looked away. I suppose some might call him handsome. To me, he looked like a less pretty version of Brad Pitt. Finally, I nodded my thanks for his lame-ass compliment, then pretended I wanted to get a better look at the pole Brady was wrestling into place. With my vampire strength, I could help easily enough, but so could the three other vamps standing around and watching him struggle.

  “Would you like some help, Brady?” Reiner rounded the other side of the pole, stepping into my personal space. I didn’t appreciate the subtle intimidation, and I scooted away.

  Ugh. Reiner always picked me out of the crowd first, unless Damian was around. He reminded me of Roogie Roo, the old terrier owned by my friend Lyle. I was allergic to dogs and Roogie Roo knew it, which is why he loved me. I couldn’t resist letting that silly dog sit on my lap, even though I’d spend a full day sneezing and wheezing. In the same way, Reiner seemed to know I wasn’t keen on him, so he tried extra hard to get my approval. Hah. I’d be damned if I let him onto my lap.

  I brushed against Brady and stopped, startled that I’d gotten so close. His sweat-slicked arm slid along mine, and if I’d had a heart it would’ve skipped a few beats. I felt safer by him than I did Reiner, which was not a comforting thought. I glanced up at Brady, whose chocolate brown gaze was on mine. His eyes narrowed; then he stepped between me and Reiner, clapping the man on the shoulder.

  “I have a date,” he said. “Maybe you and the blood-suckers can finish up this one. I’ll be back in a couple of hours to help with the others.”

  “I didn’t realize you and Simone were . . . together,” said Reiner.

  I expected Brady to protest that I wasn’t his date, but he merely smiled, picking up his shirt to wipe off his face. “Well, now you do.”

  I looked at the ground so my shocked expression wouldn’t give away Brady’s little white lie. I’d much rather Reiner believed I was dating Brady—maybe he’d back off a little. Why was he so set on impressing me, anyway? I was just a single mom who made her living working at a garage. I was nobody—and I liked it that way.

  “C’mon, sweetheart,” said Brady, tugging my hand into his. He threw the shirt over his shoulder and walked me to his truck. If I had the ability to blush, my cheeks would’ve been on fire. As it was, I couldn’t look at anyone we passed by. A few weeks before, Brady just up and offered to take me to the build sites and home again. I really liked his Ford Dually, which was red as blood and rode like a wet dream. I’d caved, and now everyone would think it was because we were an item. Gah.

  Brady opened the passenger’s-side door and helped me into the seat. Then he rounded the truck and got in. He pulled a clean T-shirt out of the glove box and tugged it on. Then he started the engine, flipped the air-conditioning on high, and backed the truck toward the road.

  Most of the time we rode home in companionable silence, listening to country-and-western songs. We were both suckers for Hank Williams Sr. and Patsy Cline. But he didn’t turn on the CD player, leaving only the silence to thicken between us.

  “What was that all about?” I blurted.

  “What was what?”

  “Announcing to Reiner—not to mention the rest of Broken Heart—that we’re dating.”

  “Why? You got a boyfriend who might protest?”

  He knew I didn’t, but that wasn’t the point. I ached to ask him if he wanted to date me, but I couldn’t form the question. Who was I kidding? Say what you will about Brady, but he was the protective type. I’m sure my reaction to Reiner made Brady put on his white-knight armor. How could he be interested in me? Nobody noticed me, not unless they needed something fixed.

  “Look, Brady. I don’t think we should tell people we’re dating when we’re not.”

  “Good point,” said Brady. “How about I take you out tomorrow night?”

  I turned to stare at him. My mouth opened, but no words came out. The truck hit a rut and we both bounced up. My head nearly grazed the roof. I grabbed hold of the door and Brady chuckled.

  “Relax. It’s not like I can kill you.”

  An angry retort died on my lips. Everyone knew I didn’t do anger. I was the most forgiving, sweet, kind soul you’d ever meet in this life or the next. At least that’s what I let people believe. Even before I’d been Turned into a vampire, I was second chance personified. Not a day went by that I didn’t remember, or try to honor, those sacrifices that had freed me from my old life.

  The truck picked up speed, and at the next juncture turned right toward my house, which was only a mile away. My little three-bedroom home was on the old McCree farm, just yards away from Broken Heart Creek.

  Somehow or another, Brady had gotten into the habit of arriving at the house at nine p.m. to play Candyland with my six-year-old, Glory. She was my miracle baby, in so many ways, but she wasn’t sociable. She hadn’t said a word for the past three years, and no doctor or therapist could figure out why, much less get her to speak. I finally stopped paying MDs and shrinks to tell me what I already knew. My daughter would talk when she was good and ready—if she decided to talk at all.

  When we arrived, Glory had the board set up and the pieces ready to go. I had never been invited to a game, but I didn’t mind. Glory had taken a real shine to Brady, and I couldn’t deny my daughter the pleasure of his company. Brady was the only one who could make her laugh, and I’d pay any price to keep hearing that sweet sound.

  I walked into the kitchen, sniffing the leftover scents of bacon, buttery eggs, and toast slathered with homemade strawberry jam. Sometimes being a vampire just sucked. I missed eating something fierce.

  Grandma Elaine was at the sink doing the breakfast dishes.

  “Hi there, baby,” said my grandmother, not bothering to turn around.

  I grinned. Vampire stealth didn’t fool Grandma Elaine. Nothing did. I rubbed her shoulders. “You go on and sit. I’ll finish up.”

  “All right. I’ll have another cup of coffee.”

 
Several years ago, Grandma had been in an auto accident that killed her husband and blinded her. She was the epitome of strength and carrying on, a fine example of not letting bad things get in the way of good living.

  She knew her own kitchen like the back of her hand and soon had a steaming cup of coffee—oh, was that a hint of cinnamon in her freshly ground Sumatra beans? Mm-mmm. I missed coffee.

  “She ate real good,” said Grandma Elaine, as she sat at the table. “She’s been waiting on Brady practically since she got up.”

  “She say anything?”

  “You know the answer to that.”

  I couldn’t help but ask. I longed for Glory to use her voice, but I knew nothing I did would make her. I’d tried everything, and then I’d tried it all again.

  “Quit worrying about that child,” said Grandma. “She’s all right.”

  I finished up the dishes and slid into a chair across the table. “I know she is.” I paused. “Did she go down to the creek today?”

  “No, but she will. It’s her habit. It don’t hurt nothing, Simone.”

  Glory would lead her great-grandmother to the creek and spend an hour or two staring at the muddy water and moving her lips, like she was talking to someone. Grandma might be blind, but she wasn’t stupid or careless. If she trusted that Glory was gonna be okay, then I had to believe it.

  “I noticed the gardening tools on the porch,” I said. “You still trying to get something to grow around here?”

  “Ain’t nothing wrong with planting seeds and hoping for the best.” She chuckled. “Besides, I’m more stubborn than that old ground. I won’t give up.”

  She never did. My grandmother loved to garden. And even though she couldn’t see the results of her efforts anymore, she still loved it. Unfortunately, nothing liked to grow on this land—at least not anything near the house or the old barn falling apart out back. I didn’t like that barn. Something bad happened there—and don’t ask me how I know. I got the heebie-jeebies in that place even before I became a vampire.