A lone man, human and well-dressed, wove his way quickly through the cars, heading to the parking spaces that faced the Italian villa–style condos rising like an out-of-place piece of the Mediterranean that had been wrenched from the Amalfi Coast and plopped down in midtown Tulsa.
Silently, Kevin followed him. When his remote key beeped, unlocking the Audi SUV, Kevin stepped from the shadows to face the man.
“Good evening,” Kevin said.
The man’s eyes went huge and round and his face blanched to bone white. He held out the packages in his hands as part offering, part shield. “P-please! I have a family at home. Please don’t bite me. I’ll give you anything else you want, but my kids need me, and I don’t want to die.”
Kevin’s stomach roiled. He hated this. He hated that just the sight of his red vampyre Mark instantly created a sense of fear and panic in humans. Kevin stared into the man’s eyes and spoke slowly, gently.
“I’m not going to hurt you. You don’t need to be afraid.” The man instantly quieted. “You’re not under a vampyre’s protection?” Kevin asked as he glanced at the man’s unmarked hand. Blue vamps had taken to tattooing crescent moons on the hands of humans under their protection so that hungry red vamps knew they were off-limits.
“Not a specific vampyre,” the man spoke as if from a dream as Kevin’s will held him, rooted in place and unable to do anything except what Kevin commanded.
“But you do something that protects you?”
The man nodded sleepily. “I own Harvard Meats. On the corner of Fifteenth and Harvard.”
“Oh, sure, I know the place.” And Kevin did. This man didn’t need to be under the protection of a specific vampyre because his business—being the butcher who provided the best meats in town to the House of Night and their favorite restaurants—was protection in itself. “Okay, here’s what I want you to do. Give me your keys. Are you within walking distance of your home?”
The man nodded again. “I live at Thirteenth and Columbia.”
“Good. You’ll need to walk home. Tomorrow report your SUV missing. Tell them you think it was high school kids—from Union,” Kevin added as an afterthought. He’d grown up in Broken Arrow. BA and Union were major rivals, and he had to hide his grin at this small payback for Union winning the last state football championship.
“I’ll report it stolen. By Union kids. Tomorrow,” the man repeated by rote, handing Kevin his keys.
Kevin hesitated, calling the man back as he turned, moving mechanically, to begin walking home. “Hey, uh, do you need anything from your SUV?”
The man blinked at him, as if he didn’t understand the question.
“Is there anything in your SUV that you should take home with you?” Kevin rephrased the question, looking into the man’s eyes, increasing his control over him.
“Yes. My laptop,” the man said immediately, though his voice still had a dreamy tone to it. “And a few more gifts for the kids.”
“Take them,” Kevin said. “Hurry.”
The man moved quickly, opening the back door and taking out a slim laptop and a bag full of wrapped packages. Then he turned back to Kevin, waiting to be told what to do next.
“Go home now. Fast. Don’t talk to anyone. If you get stopped by a Warrior tell him you are on the business of a lieutenant of the Red Army.”
“I am on the business of a lieutenant of the Red Army.”
“One more thing. This is going to be your best Christmas ever. Actually, it’s going to be your best year ever. You’re going to show your wife and kids how much you love them every day, and you’re going to be sure that you and your family are invaluable to the House of Night by choosing special cuts of meat only for Neferet.” Kevin paused, thinking, and then added, “Marinate the meat in a red wine sauce. Neferet really likes her red wine. Understand?”
“I understand.”
“Okay, now go. Fast!”
The man rushed away, clutching the laptop and the bag of presents to his chest as if they were all made of gold.
Humming the Broken Arrow fight song softly to himself, Kevin got in the Audi. He took a moment to appreciate the nice interior before starting the car and pulling out of Utica Square. And then he was on his way to the Muskogee Turnpike, which was just a short skip from downtown Tulsa. Once he headed south on the turnpike, Kevin turned up 98.5 and attempted to let Blake Shelton’s familiar Okie twang soothe his nerves.
Kevin wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to do, but he was exactly sure who he needed to see to get help figuring it out.
The hour-and-a-half drive whizzed by, and soon Kevin was pulling off the highway and winding around an old two-lane until he came to the gravel and dirt road driveway that divided sleeping lavender fields and led to a familiar stone cottage with a wide front porch.
His stomach did nervous flip-flops as he cracked his knuckles and then raised his fist to knock on the door.
Kevin paused. What if she wouldn’t invite him in?
He swallowed that terrible thought just as the door opened before he could even knock.
“Hi, G-ma Redbird! It’s me. Kevin.”
The only sign of shock the old woman gave was a slight pinking of her brown cheeks.
“It has been a while, but I do recognize my own family,” G-ma said. She made no move to invite him in. “What can I do for you, Kevin?”
“I need your help. Actually, I need more than your help. I need a plan. It’s a lot to explain. Could I please come in?”
“I get no pleasure in saying this, but no. You may not come in. I see that you made the Change.”
“Yeah, months ago. I’m sorry I haven’t come to see you until now, but you know why I didn’t. I had to be sure I could control myself. Well, I’m sure now, and the reason I’m sure is incredible.”
“I’m sorry, Kevin. Today is not my day to die, and even were it, I would not want to meet the Great Goddess after my grandson turned me into a ravenous monster. No. Please leave, child. You are breaking my heart, and it is already in more pieces than I can count.” Sadly, slowly, Grandma Redbird began to turn from the door.
“Wait, G-ma. Please look at this first.” Kevin lifted the medicine bag from around his neck and held it so that Grandma Redbird could get a good look at it.
Her brow wrinkled in confusion. “That is mine. But, I’m wearing it …” Her hand lifted automatically, going to the leather cord that held an identical medicine bag around her neck.
“G-ma, you gave it to me.”
“No, Kevin.” She lifted the identical beaded bag. “This is mine. That one, well, it is a strangely similar copy.”