Page 57 of Good Vampires Go to Heaven

Michael gritted out, “Do. Not. Dare!”

The cat hissed at him. Then had the nerve to walk over, cough up a lint ball on one of Michael’s athletic shoes, then dart out the open door, off to hide, no doubt, or lick his balls.

It was amazing that Thor, who’d been with Regina for hundreds of years, didn’t give her even a passing glance. That was cats for you! Loyal as their options. Like men, some women claimed.

Michael gazed at his shoe with disgust, then turned that disgust on the three Lucipires who were picking clumps of lint off their clothing and out of their hair.

“Come with me,” Michael ordered, and led them to a small anteroom where there were a table and chairs, a coffeemaker in the corner, and a glass-fronted fridge full of Fake-O against the wall.

Zeb had tasted the vangel beverage one time, and it was putrid. He supposed he’d have to develop a taste for it if he ever became a vangel. Small price to pay, of course.

The few vangels who were taking a break there hurried out, without being directed to do so, sensing danger. Who wouldn’t, seeing Michael’s stormy expression.

Michael sat down wearily, still shaking his head from side to side at the three Lucipires who sat down across the table from him, even though Michael hadn’t invited them to do so. Dumb as . . . well, demons. Since their sitting didn’t seem to bother Michael, Zeb and Regina sat down on one side of Michael, Vikar on the other.

Beau and Patience fidgeted in their chairs, nervous, or maybe they were just anxious to be off somewhere. Grimelda couldn’t have cared less, still picking mattress batting off her black gown.

“The three of you still carry the demon taint,” Michael told them. “Even if I had considered making you vangels,” he pretended to shiver at the prospect, “that would preclude thy joining those holy ranks.”

Whoa! That raised two big questions in Zeb’s mind. First, did that mean Zeb no longer carried the taint, since Michael had only said that those three carried the taint? A quick glance told him that Regina and Vikar had the same question.

Second, vangels were “holy”? Who knew! Holy Vikings? Does that mean, if I become a vangel, I will be a holy Hebrew? Ha, ha, ha! I’m not sure I can live up to being holy. Even if I become a celibate, I don’t think I can be perfectly pure. But then, the seven Sig brothers are far from perfect, or even remotely close to pure.

“Ah reckoned our helping Zebulan escape would count fer somethin’,” Beau said to Michael, clearly surprised and disappointed.

“It did, but not enough to remove the taint completely,” Michael told him.

“Does that mean we have to go back to being Lucipires?” Patience cringed.

“I ain’t sucking blood anymore, I don’t care what you say,” proclaimed Grimelda with a chuckle. The old crone was probably a little bit looney, or suffering from dementia, to argue with an archangel.

“Tell me, why did you want to leave Horror?” Michael asked the three of them.

The question seemed to surprise them.

Finally, Grimelda said, “I’m too old to be dragging a tail around. And they won’t let me make my potions, just the same old demon recipes. And everything has blood, blood, blood in it. I get heartburn every time I do a fanging these days.”

Zeb had never heard the old lady string so many words together before. Not that he’d had much contact with her over the years. Usually she was assigned to the kitchens which were in a part of Horror he rarely visited.

“I’m tired of being forced to spread my legs for every visiting haakai demon,” Patience said. “I want to be able to pick my own lovers . . . like I did when I was human . . .” She seemed to realize how inappropriate her statements were for an angel, or a Puritan, and her words trailed off.

“And killed them off afterward,” Zeb finished for her.

“I don’t mind the taste of blood, though,” Patience continued, licking her lips for emphasis. “And fanging is fun.”

“Maybe you would just be happier if you’d been given a promotion,” Michael offered. “From hordling to mung, maybe. In time, even a haakai.”

The stupid woman nodded vigorously, not realizing the trap she’d set for herself.

“And you, Beauregard?”

“Initially, Ah wanted ta escape so that Ah could go back and wring the neck of that voodoo priestess, Lilith. She deserved to be a Lucipire more than Ah did, or so Ah’ve always thought. Ah’m still tempted, but lately Ah keep thinking about the way mah life was, pre-Lilith, pre-witchcraft. That’s what Ah want. Doan get me wrong. Ah was no saint, but Ah wasn’t evil.”

Beau exchanged a glance with Zeb, wondering if he’d said the wrong thing. Hard to say. At least Beau was being honest.

“This is what I have decided regarding you three,” Michael said. “For thy efforts in helping Regina to rescue Zebulan, I will offer you Lucipires one option, and one option only. Go back to thy old lives as humans, not as Lucipires. A second chance to live a good life and make up for thy evil. Chances are you would make the same mistakes. But who knows? Thou may surprise me.”

Why wasn’t I offered that choice? Zeb wondered. Oh, to be able to go back to Sarah and my children, to stay in the vineyard and never join the Roman Army. A do-over. I probably would have died at Masada, like the others, but at least I would have been with my family at the end.