Page 41 of Death Dance

TWELVE

Benoit enjoyed pulling my tail.

During dessert, Eugene decided he had a death wish, attempting to pilfer a piece of my cheesecake. With twin hisses, we transformed into cats and went for each other, claws out and teeth bared. My brother had me beat in size, but I battled him with little remorse or care if I cut him, tore out his fur, or otherwise mangled him over the theft of my treat.

Not to be left out, my other brothers joined in, although they limited their participation to harmless swats.

Well, for the most part.

Benoit enjoyed pulling my tail.

The first time I crashed into Emerick’s chair, he sighed.

The second time, he reached down, pulled me out of the mass of furry bodies, and hauled me onto his lap. I hissed at my brothers, who complained in yowls over the interruption to our battle.

Emerick fed me a piece of my cheesecake as he’d already vanquished his. “I see we’re going to have to plan gatherings so she can play with her brothers.”

“That might be wise. Those sons of mine are quite energetic, and I’m sure Pepper will be their equal soon enough. She has plenty of time to adapt to being part of the family. Boys, please shift back and eat at the table properly. You’ve embarrassed yourselves enough for today. Pepper, you can stay in that shape. It’s good for you to have practice shifting and staying in that form.”

I purred, made myself comfortable on my husband’s lap, and listened.

Soon enough, I expected to have to play a front and center part of our gambit to end Jeremy Breckenan once and for all. I would chase after peace when we weren’t making our preparations.

My brothers obeyed and returned to their seats. Eugene stabbed a piece of his cheesecake with his fork and offered it to me.

I accepted the treat with even louder purring.

“Dad, what are the odds that this Breckenan fellow can catch us by surprise?”

“With my uncles on the hunt and Pepper’s influence over stakes? It wouldn’t surprise me if we escape this with a few cuts and bruises. Broken bones are possible if someone takes a fall. Freak accidents can and do happen, but the likelihood of a fatality on our side is slim. The hard part isn’t going to be getting us out of this alive,” my father replied, and he made a thoughtful sound. “The issue is Breckenan’s other victims. We have evidence that some of these vampires are under sway. If at all possible, I would like to free them from his influence and rehabilitate them. It might not be possible, but they are victims. The ones that have made the choice to serve Breckenan deserve their fate. But the ones who were forced? There is no justice in their murder.”

In a way, I regretted being a cat; I wanted to ask my father many questions regarding the nature of Breckenan’s victims and what we could do to help them.

Emerick stroked his hand along my back, and he sighed. “My brood is not positioned to handle such trauma, especially not with us working to help Edgar.”

I sat straighter on my husband’s lap, peering over the edge of the table in time to witness my father wave away Emerick’s concern. “That is a matter for my uncles to address. If I had my way, none of you would be involved with this. The reality of the situation is that if we want this to end, we must all be involved. Breckenan has the potential to force history to repeat itself. And unlike us, there is nothing pure about his devotion. His beliefs are dark and terrible things, and he feeds on misery and fear as much as he does on blood.”

“What can you tell us about his necromantic background?” Eugene asked, and he stabbed a piece of his cheesecake before offering it to me.

Not only did I accept the treat, I rubbed my head against his hand to show he had my favor.

Emerick laughed, and he scratched behind my ears. “My wife operates on mashed potato volcanoes and cheesecake.”

“I will teach you the art of adding blood to gravy,” my father promised. “I believe that the mashed potatoes fill her mortal needs while the infused gravy fills her preternatural needs. And as we would make her massive mashed potato volcanoes as a child and praise her for conquering them, it is one of her comfort foods.”

In retrospect, I realized my father was right. Tired of being unable to talk, I hopped off my husband’s lap, braced, and went about the tedious process of changing back to human. While harder than assuming my feline form, I accomplished my task with grace and all my clothing, although I landed on my rump rather than bouncing to my feet as my brothers had done. As nobody seemed to care about my lack of dignity, I returned to my seat. “Hot turkey sandwiches are the one true food.”

My father laughed. “Yes, it surprised me how much you enjoyed it the first time we gave it to you. Your mother would have preferred ham every holiday, but the first time we offered a ham instead of turkey, you tried so hard not to cry because all you wanted for Christmas was turkey.”

I remembered that. “You somehow made a turkey appear, too.”

“I had suspected you would reject ham, so I had gotten a small one so you could have turkey. With your dietary restrictions and issues, I was taking no risks. Don’t feel badly for your mother, by the way. She got her ham every holiday. I just learned to make everything, that way the women in my life would not have a reason to go for my throat.”

I snickered at the thought of us going for my father like we meant it, albeit for different reasons. “What would happen if I were to return to meals like my childhood? Would it return my biological processes back to human standard? Or close to it? I ask because I am curious if it would help with women wanting to have children. If the blood is such a big problem, wouldn’t lessening the need for blood help with the pregnancy?”

My father narrowed his eyes, leaned back in his chair, and hummed. “Emerick, how many tries does it usually take your women to carry a child to term?”

“It usually takes two or three tries,” he admitted. “The first is almost always a failure; it’s hard to get the right habits set up. Lining up the donors is always an issue, although my brood has a good setup for that. We go above and beyond the payment requirements set by the government for donations.” My husband winced, and he glanced at me. “I’ll admit I’ve been making sure the paperwork for that doesn’t cross your desk. I didn’t know how you’d react to it. You were fairly pissy over the legislation as it is. Your father has done our brood a lot of favors, however.”