Page 43 of Good Vampires Go to Heaven

“We’ll soon find out,” Cnut said.

And they did.

Less than an hour later, they were down on the beach, where three vangels and a coven linked arms around a hard-to-categorize former demon and tried to focus on moving their bodies through the air.

“Praise the Lord!” Regina prompted.

And they were up, up, and away.

No matter the danger, no matter the circumstance, it still comes down to a man and his penis . . .

It was barely past dawn, but Vikar was up and about, in the castle kitchen, having a carton of Fake-O, enjoying the quiet before the daily madness began. Alex was still sleeping when he’d left their bed. Likewise, their children, Gunnar and Gunnora, in their adjacent nursery.

He was staring idly out at the back courtyard, still not fully awake. Throughout the quiet castle, especially down below in the former dungeons, where most of the vangels were accommodated, he heard the rustling sounds of awakening . . . soft footsteps, toilets flushing, loud yawns, farts, water running. He had really good hearing.

Soon, he would get down to final plans for the war to end all wars with the Lucipires, which would be launched two days from now. One of the dining rooms had been turned into a war room, with maps laid out on the long table, several computers and printers, and wall charts showing a division of not only the various planned campaigns by geography but by those who would command and serve in those divisions. Vikar and his brothers had been working on the plans nonstop the past few days, as well as battening down the security here at the castle and on Grand Key Island.

Michael, who was a warrior himself, or had been, could have been of so much help, but, as usual, he had stepped back to let them blunder on their own. “Be strong and be of good courage, that is what God said to Joshua before going into battle,” Michael had reminded him.

As if Vikar were in Joshua’s league! When he’d repeated Michael’s words to Mordr, a skilled fighting man, he’d likened Joshua to the NFL and they were mere Pee Wee players. Vikar wouldn’t have gone that far, but still . . .

There was so much to do, and so few vangels for such a monumental job. Yes, a thousand Viking warriors sounded like a lot, but he could use ten times as many, and still not feel confident of the odds. Five hundred of the vangels were currently crammed in every corner of this castle and its grounds. Four hundred and fifty of the five hundred being temporarily housed on Grand Key Island would be returning here day after tomorrow when the vangels’ aggressive missions against the Lucipires would commence.

Trust in God, he kept hearing in his head. And that’s what he would do. Except he was reminded often by Trond of that old military saying, “Trust in God, but pass the ammunition.”

Lizzie came in, yawning, and nodded at him. Within minutes, she had the commercial-size, automatic coffeemaker brewing, and Vikar prepared to take the first mug. Coffee was a brew unknown to Vikings of old, but he’d come to rely on its morning kick start. Mayhap he was just getting old. Ha, ha, ha.

Suddenly, he was jarred to alertness, and not by caffeine.

There was a loud noise outside.

Cnut and Trond must have returned. Praise God! Now they could complete their war plans.

But then, Vikar’s jaw dropped with astonishment at the scene unfolding before him.

They’d left an open “fold” in the shielding around the castle in anticipation of his brothers’ return. Only they knew how to access that opening, and it would be sealed after them. However, this was not a soft landing he was viewing out in the back courtyard. In fact, Trond ended up in the pool, Cnut on the gazebo roof, and Zeb lay on his back in the grass with his knees drawn up to his chest, moaning in pain.

But it was the other three, no, four characters that drew his incredulity. There was Regina, and she was certainly more voluptuous than he’d ever realized as she raised her butt to get up off the ground and arched her back to ease some bruising from the fall. It was probably her attire, which was unusual for her, a pair of skin-hugging, knee-length shorts and a T-shirt that proclaimed “I Love Devil Dogs.” Her red hair, which she usually had pulled off her face in a ponytail or braid, stood out like a flaming bush.

Turning, she helped an old lady to stand. The gray-haired witch—and that’s exactly what the old hag looked like in a long black gown with a long, black, open-sided apron in the Viking style—held a broom in one hand and a burlap bag in the other.

Then there was a pretty, black-haired wench in a Puritan costume. Leastways, that’s what it looked like to him. But what did he know about female clothing. Maybe it was Quaker. Or even some new Amish group. She was adjusting her apron and dusting off her backside, having landed in the children’s large sandbox.

And, finally, a dark-haired, dark-eyed guy, wearing jeans, a denim shirt, and Zeb’s Blue Devils baseball cap, strolled confidently toward the others who gathered at the far end of the patio, talking among themselves.

Vikar opened the French doors and got a good whiff of . . . sulfur! “Holy shit! They’re Lucipires!”

“No, they aren’t,” Lizzie Borden said, coming up to his side. “They’re witches, and they better not be coming into my kitchen.”

“Huh? What?” Vikar looked again. “Witches? Like Regina?”

“Not exactly. They’re demon witches.”

Michael is going to have a bird!

As Regina came forward, Vikar said, “What have you done?” And he didn’t just mean going off to rescue Zeb and setting off a war.

Regina bowed her head and said, “Master Vikar, I beg leave to enter the castle.”