“Oh, excellent, Chief Mendoza. I can always rely on you.”
“There was a child, I am afraid. A baby girl, perhaps four months. Jose’s mother is taking care of her.”
Wait a minute… a baby? “Good. We wouldn’t want the poor mite to be traumatized. Speaking of which, it’s fortunate you’re both here. We’re going to be having a bit of a gathering, a do, in May. About thirty to thirty-five guests, though I won’t know for sure until they RSVP. Plus their personal renfields, lucies in some cases, and other attendants. I’ll be contacting Paco for supplies and Theresa will be managing the household side, but you’ll need to put the usual preparations in hand for storing the refreshments. Please consult and organize. I don’t want any complications.”
Bates looked…
Professionally interested, Ellen thought. Mendoza, the policeman, he’s gone a little gray. Refreshments for a Shadowspawn house party… storing the refreshments… oh, Christ! “Immediately, Do?a,” Mendoza said.
“Ma’am,” Bates added. “That’ll be… about eighty?”
“That should do,” Adrienne said. “It’s a party, one shouldn’t stint.”
“And the wastage we can expect?”
“Around fifty percent, but it’s impossible to be precise; we can always use a few extra workers afterwards. I’ll try to arrange the shipments starting in mid-March. Do tell Dr. Duggan.”
She nodded to both, put her helmet back on and peeled off into the traffic.
I’m not going to ask. I’m not going to ask, Ellen thought, gripping her tightly. I’m not even going to think about asking.
“You’ll be much happier that way,” Adrienne agreed.
She pulled into Lucy Lane. “Ah, the weekly barbecue!”
A spicy, smoky smell came from Number Three, the babble of a crowd, and the sound of a guitar.
“Perhaps I’ll drop by for a snack myself later,” Adrienne said, reaching back and giving her a slapping pat. “Off you go, ma douce.”
“Hi!” Ellen said, putting her head in the open door of One Lucy Lane.
I’d like to have someone I know a little with me when I brave that crowd at Jose’s. New kid… new lucy… on the block and all that.
“I’m here!” Monica replied. “Kitchen! Come on in!”
Ellen followed the scents of baking and cooking to the steamy warmth. Monica was in her frilled bib-apron again, with her jacket slung on the back of a chair.
“Good to see you again,” Ellen said to her smile.
Which is actually true. I think she really is friendly. And she must be a basically strong person or she’d be a lot crazier than she is. Eight years with Adrienne! I’m feeling pretty crazed after that many days.
“Sorry I couldn’t be here to help with the setup, but I’ve brought a good appetite,” she said aloud. “We only stopped for a taco at lunch.”
“That’s what makes a barbecue a success-appetite! I’m just getting my contributions ready. The kids are already over there and things should really start in about half an hour.”
Monica stopped her bustle for a moment to eye the nile twinset and earth-toned skirt Ellen had changed into; the FedEx parcels had been waiting for her at Number Five.
“You had a shopping weekend,” Monica said brightly. “And a successful one.”
Her kitchen and dining nook had a lived-in look; scrawled crayon pictures by her children tacked up to a corkboard on a cabinet, dogeared recipe books, a slightly obsolete terminal fastened to the door of the refrigerator that had a couple of spots on the touch-screen, bowls soaking in the sinks. It smelled wonderfully of fresh bread and homemade mayonnaise and pimentos, and Ellen’s stomach twisted.
The mid-floor island had a series of dishes standing ready-green salads and potato salad in bowls covered in plastic wrap, a basket of crusty homemade baguettes with a dish towel over them, and plates of cookies glistening with half-melted chocolate chips and studded with walnuts.
“Isn’t Jean-Charles wonderful? I go up just for him a couple times a year, and more often so I’ll have an excuse to wear some of the things! Rancho Sangre is lovely but it’s not a real dress-up town. Peter and I go to the opera there, and sometimes Adrienne goes with us.”
“You like opera?” Ellen said.
Monica nodded. “I know I’m not a college graduate like you-” she began, sounding a little defensive.
Ellen made a wave to a halt gesture. “Monica, I’m the first person-well, the first woman-in my family ever to go to university. If I hadn’t been desperate to get out of Allentown for personal reasons I probably wouldn’t have gone. I’m a small-towner and all my family were coal miners and steelworkers for a hundred years. And housewives and secretaries and the odd elementary teacher or whatnot.”
Monica relaxed slightly. “Same here, SoCal version. I have some friends there in San Francisco, though it’s, well, difficult. But Jean-Charles makes you feel like you’re his little sister and he’s giving you advice.”
“Yes, actually, he was very nice,” Ellen said honestly. “I really enjoyed… part of that. We had a dinner with one of Adrienne’s Shadowspawn friends, and a lunch with her and another one and some… other lucies. That wasn’t as much fun. Though the food was great and I tried to concentrate on that.”
I’ll leave out the politics, and the threat of universal destruction, and Kai. Shit, I wish I could forget that little bitch! Not as scary as the Shadowspawn but even more revolting.
“Oh, you poor darling!” Monica stopped to give her a brief hug. “The other Shadowspawn, they’re awful. I absolutely hate the way they look at me. It makes me feel… all cold and alone and shivery inside. Though the Do?a would never let any of them hurt us.”
“Uh… yeah,” Ellen said.
Only she gets to hurt us. You can see how she and Adrian started in the same place. But the difference!
She frowned for an instant. It’s odd… I haven’t heard a thing about Adrian in days, but I feel like I know him better than I did before we broke up… as if the breakup didn’t happen, somehow. Things will be different, once I’m out of this. And I can’t just wait. I’ve got to keep looking for something I can do.
The other woman looked in the oven, shook her head, and murmured: “Not quite ready.” Then she went on: “So tell me all of what you did. Did you stop for a picnic on the way up?”
“Uh… yeah. Thanks for the stuff you packed for us. Adrienne did this berserk driving thing, frightened the bejesus out of me, and-”
“Fed on you while the blood was juicy and tingly,” Monica said succinctly. A reminiscent smile: “I think I know the spot. She’s done that to me, and before I realized that it was safe no matter how fast we were going I was terrified. Now it just scares me. Then I actually… well, she made me take off all my clothes and wash in the ocean before she drank the blood, and the water’s cold there. I was head-to-toe stark naked goose bumps right there on the beach while she fed. Thank God it was summer and even more that nobody came along!”
“I was going to ask you about the feeding thing, a bit,” Ellen said. “I’ve noticed that at first it just made me want to stay still-”
“But now you don’t feel so paralyzed, and it gets better and better?” A smile. “Starting to really like it, aren’t you?”
“Well… yes. I might as well, if it’s going to happen regularly anyway. I’m still scared spitless beforehand.”
“Oh, that doesn’t change. It’s more of a nice-scary for me now, but she still looks so… so predatory when she’s about to feed on you, doesn’t she?”
Ellen nodded. Oh, yeah. Because she actually is being predatory and you know she’s actually, really no-kidding going to bite you and drink your fucking blood. Aloud: “But while she’s drinking and for a while afterward it’s pretty nice.”
“That lovely drifting feeling when you feel like you love the whole world and everything’s so right? And the way the blood makes her face shine with happiness, that looks so beautiful too?”
“Mmmm, yes. What’s it like if she doesn’t bite you for a while?”
“Terrible,” Monica said matter-of-factly.
She poured them each a glass of white Zinfandel and sat at the kitchen table across from her.
“First, after four days or so, you just get… itchy and nervous and you can’t concentrate and it’s all you can think about. Then, after about a week, your skin feels like it’s going to crawl off of you and slither into a corner and cry. Then, after two weeks-that’s the longest it’s been for me-it still does, but you don’t care, because you feel like your
