Dead Reckoning(10)

I could hear crashing and banging, and a persistent snarly noise I finally identified as growling.

“Sounds like two pit bulls going at each other,” Immanuel said. He was handling this with amazing calm. I was glad to have some human company.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with them,” I said. “I’ve never seen them act like this.”

“Pam’s frustrated,” he said with a familiarity that surprised me. “She wants to make her own child, but there’s some vampire reason she can’t.”

I couldn’t curb my surprise. “And you know all this — how? I’m sorry, that sounds rude, but I hang around with Pam and Eric a fair bit, and I haven’t seen you before.”

“Pam’s been dating my sister.” Immanuel didn’t seem offended by my frankness, thank goodness. “My sister Miriam. My mom’s religious,” he explained. “And kind of crazy. The situation is, my sister is sick and getting sicker, and Pam really wants to bring her over before Mir gets any worse. She’ll be skin and bones forever if Pam doesn’t hurry.”

I hardly knew what to say. “What illness does your sister have?” I said.

“She has leukemia,” Immanuel said. Though he maintained his casual facade, I could read the pain underneath, and the fear and worry.

“So that’s how Pam knows you.”

“Yeah. But she was right. I am the best hairstylist in Shreveport.”

“I believe you,” I said. “And I’m sorry about your sister. I don’t guess they told you why Pam wasn’t able to bring Miriam over?”

“Nope, but I don’t think the roadblock is Eric.”

“Probably not.” There was a shriek and a clatter from the kitchen. “I wonder if I ought to intervene.”

“If I were you, I’d leave them to it.”

“I hope they plan on paying to have my kitchen set to rights,” I said, doing my best to sound angry rather than frightened.

“You know, he could order her to be still and she’d have to do it.” Immanuel sounded almost casual.

He was absolutely right. As Eric’s child, Pam had to obey a direct order. But for whatever reasons, Eric wasn’t saying the magic word. In the meantime, my kitchen was getting wiped out. When I realized he could make the whole thing stop at any time he chose, I lost my own temper.

Though Immanuel made an ineffective grab at my arm, I stomped on my bare feet into the hall bathroom, got the handled pitcher Claude used when he cleaned the bathtub, filled it with cold water, and went into the kitchen. (I was walking a little wonky after the fall from the stool, but I managed.) Eric was on top of Pam, punching away at her. His own face was bloody. Pam’s hands were on his shoulders, keeping him from getting any closer. Maybe she feared he would bite.

I stepped into position, estimating trajectory. When I was sure I had it right, I pitched cold water on the battling vampires.

I was putting out a different kind of fire, this time.

Pam shrieked like a teakettle as the cold water drenched her face, and Eric said something that sounded vile in a language I didn’t know. For a split second, I thought they’d both launch themselves at me. Standing with my feet braced, empty pitcher in my hand, I gave them glare for glare. Then I turned on my heel and walked away.

Immanuel was surprised to see me return in one piece. He shook his head. Obviously, he didn’t know whether to admire me or think me an idiot.

“You’re nuts, woman,” he said, “but at least I got your hair looking good. You should come in and get some highlights. I’ll give you a break on the price. I charge more than anybody else in Shreveport.” He added that in a matter-of-fact way.

“Oh. Thanks. I’ll think about it.” Exhausted by my long day and my burst of anger — anger and fear, they wear you out — I perched on an empty corner of my couch and waved Immanuel to my recliner, the only other chair in the room that wasn’t covered with attic fallout.

We were silent, listening for renewed combat in the kitchen. To my relief, the noise didn’t resume. After a few seconds Immanuel said, “I’d leave, if Pam wasn’t my ride.” He looked apologetic.

“No problem,” I answered, stifling a yawn. “I’m just sorry I can’t get into the kitchen. I could offer you more to drink or something to eat if they’d get out of there.”

He shook his head. “The Coke was enough, thanks. I’m not a big eater. What do you think they’re doing? Fucking?”

I hoped I didn’t look as shocked as I felt. It was true that Pam and Eric had been lovers right after he turned her. In fact, she’d told me how much she’d enjoyed that phase of their relationship, though over the decades she’d found she preferred women. So there was that; also, Eric was married to me now, in a sort of nonbinding vampire way, and I was pretty sure that even a vampire-human marriage precluded the having of sex with another partner in the wife’s kitchen?