Chapter Ten
We escaped the house after I gave Megan and Cassidy numerous kisses, hugs, and promises to come in and check on them when I got home. Mark told me to have fun and stay out as late as I wanted and I gave him a sick smile in return. I didn’t want to stay out at all. I didn’t even want to go.
Cecily was looking sweet and innocent in a printed flower skirt; solid-color, square-necked, blouse; and strappy heels. She could have been a soccer mom on her way to church. She didn’t look at all like a bloodsucking monster from a horror story. She gave me a wink and an evil grin when she noticed my jewelry, but it didn’t make her fall down frothing at the mouth so perhaps silver was not as deadly as the folk tales make it out to be.
Bummer.
I hoped it was at least mildly insulting. I wasn’t feeling very friendly at the moment.
We took her car, of course. A cute little Honda Civic, dark red. It reminded me of dried blood, which just goes to show how macabre my thoughts were getting.
I had every intention of keeping loftily quiet and making her speak first, but I gave up after about two minutes. I never was very good at awkward silences. Besides, I had an important question to get out of the way before I forgot.
“Do you mind if we make a quick stop at Walmart?” I asked.
“Walmart?”
“Yeah, I’m out of diapers.”
“There is an SS hit on your head. Attempts have already been made on your life, and you want to stop, at night, and walk through a dark parking lot to go to Walmart?” she asked incredulously.
“You could drop me off at the door,” I suggested.
“You want to go into Walmart alone. At night. With a death hit on your head.” She sounded like she was getting ready to call for the men in white coats to take me away to a nice padded cell.
“Hmm,” I said sarcastically, pretending to think, “Possible death or facing poopy diapers tomorrow with no clean ones handy. I think I’ll chance the death.”
“Poopy?”
I glared. “Yes, my vocabulary has shrunk to that of a four year-old. I also say ‘doggie,’ ‘horsie,’ and ‘tinkle.’”
“Tinkle?” She looked genuinely curious.
“Bodily functions,” I sighed.
“Wouldn’t it be better to just call things what they actually are?”
I rolled my eyes. Parenting advice from a vampire. “There is a whole school of thought that would agree with that.”
“But you do not.”
“Just think about it. Do you want to be in public with your little angel and have her yell loudly, ‘Mommy, Mommy! I need to go have a bowel movement’?”
Cecily smirked, “I can see how that might be embarrassing.” She looked puzzled a second later, “How is ‘Mommy, Mommy, I need to go poopy’ any better?”
I snorted. “It’s not. The hope is that by using baby talk it will sound cute and not disgusting.”
“Does it work?”
“No,” I said shortly and tried to get the conversation back on track. “What’s the SS?”
“Huh?”
“The SS. You said that the SS has a hit on me. I thought it was called the USB, Universal Supreme Beings or something.”
“United Supernatural Beings, yes,” she corrected me. “The SS is the Sentinel Synod. They are a partially elected group under the USB that takes care of security issues. The USB has no real power. They talk a lot and come up with ideas, but only member species elected to the Sentinel Synod have the authority to do something about the ideas.”
“Sentinel Synod,” I repeated with a laugh. “Say that six times fast.”
“Why?” Cecily asked.
“Why what?”
“Why say it six times fast?”’
“Because it’s a tongue – oh never mind. You’re no fun.” I sighed and looked out the window. I hated riding in the car. Although we lived less than an hour from Orlando we seldom made the drive over. Part of my hatred might come from having to travel with two small children. A good formula for parents of children under the age of six is to take the combined age of your children and multiply it by the hour length of the trip. That’s how long the trip will feel like. Using that math, a trip to Orlando for me would feel like it took six hours. Drive there and back and you would feel like you had been in the car all day long.
“So can we?” I asked again.
“Can we what?” she repeated obtusely.
“Stop at Walmart.”
“Fine, slurpee,” she snapped. “But if you get whacked, I’m going to be ticked off that I wasted the last four years.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, in that case I’ll be extra careful.” I muttered some insults under my breath and had to grab onto the hand bar above the window as she jerked the car around a corner.
“What’s with the ‘slurpee’ comments?” I wanted to know.
Her teeth flashed white in a grin, “You figure it out. It’s an insult.”
I didn’t have to think very hard. I crossed my arms over my chest and thought angry thoughts. There was no way in the world I was showing fear to this creature. I thought of an insult of my own and decided to save it for a more offensive moment. I wouldn’t want to appear petty and childish.
We made it safely in and out of Walmart. Cecily looked disappointed. I think she was looking forward to kicking some butt. Maybe she’d get the chance later if I was extremely unlucky. I for one could stand the lack of excitement.
We pulled out of the parking lot in silence and I frowned as she turned the wrong way.
“Where are you going?” I asked. “The interstate’s that way.”
She smiled again, “We’re not taking the interstate.”
“We’re not?” I was puzzled.
“We’re taking a Zipline. The USB does not believe that getting there is half the fun. Usually we travel by conventional means, but for USB conferences they spring for a little more magic. We’ll be at the Convention Center in ten minutes.”
I sat up straighter. Cool. I was going to get to see some real magic in action! Not that bullet wounds healing in seconds wasn’t magic, it was just in the past and I was having a hard time convincing my brain that it had actually happened.
We pulled into a deserted gas station. Weeds were growing up through the cracks in the cement and the plastic bags that had once wrapped the nozzle of each pump were mostly torn away. There was a small garage, spray-painted in graffiti and sporting several broken window panes. The street lamp supposedly lighting the station was flickering in and out, casting long shadows that seemed to move by themselves.
The place was creepy. I fought the urge to jump out of the car and run. Instead I hunkered down and tried to make myself as small as possible.
“You can feel it?” Cecily asked.
“Yees,” I said slowly, getting suspicious. “Am I supposed to feel like I should run away?”
She grinned, for a vampire she sure was cheerful. Then again, I had never spent much time chatting with real vampires so maybe they were all this happy about scaring humans.
“That’s the ‘KeepOut’ spell. It wouldn’t do for just anyone off the street to make the trip to Orlando in a blink of an eye.”
She drove around to the back of the garage where the large door was pulled up into the ceiling. The inside of the place looked worse than the outside. I could easily envision a whole slew of horror movies taking place in there. I started to sweat. When a black robed figure appeared out of nowhere outside Cecily’s window, I may have even let out a little scream.
Cecily rolled down her window and flashed some sort of laminated badge. The figure nodded and waved us on. She drove slowly into the garage, which looked very much like a huge monster swallowing us alive. I must have blinked, because we were suddenly turned around in the garage and driving back out the door. The feeling of terror was slowly subsiding to be replaced with awe as I realized that we were not in Melbourne anymore. The streets around us had completely changed.
Since we had been headed for Orlando, I would make a bet that we had arrived.
I leaned back in my seat and tried to look nonchalant. “Who was the guy in black?”
Cecily looked grim. “One of the witches. Not someone you want to meet. Unfortunately we are dependent upon them for Ziplines. They are not pleasant people.” She said this like she thought I wanted to run back there and exchange email addresses with the guy. Fat chance. He scared the living daylights out of me.
“What would he have done if we were just normal people?” I asked, curious. Somewhere, someone must have been stupid enough to ignore all the psychological warnings and gotten too close. It was human nature after all.
Cecily looked troubled, “There have been instances,” she confirmed. “The witches have it written in their contract that such trespassers become their property. What happens then is only known to them.”
I suppressed a shudder.
We were now driving down International Drive. The city was lit up almost as bright as day and tourists were everywhere. Live in Florida long enough and you can spot a tourist a mile away. If the camera on a neck strap doesn’t give it away, the pasty white or lobster red legs are a sure sign. Also, anyone wearing shorts or a swim suit in the cold days of winter.
For a Native Floridian, winter is any time that the temperature drops into the sixties or below. Shiver. Northerners, a.k.a. anyone from north of the Florida/Georgia border, might think the sixties are a warm spring day, but down here our blood has thinned out to the consistency of water and freezes at fifty degrees.
“So where are we going?” I asked.
“The Orange County Convention Center,” Cecily answered.
“Wow,” was all I could think of to say. The Convention Center is huge. It’s for ginormous conventions, hosting thousands and thousands of people. I had kind of been picturing a smallish group of supernatural people.
“How do you avoid attracting the wrong kind of notice?” I wanted to know.
“The USB calls itself ‘SuperCon,’ a role playing convention that is members only. We also have fantastic security,” her teeth flashed.
I grimaced; I could imagine the security.
We made it past another security check point in the parking lot and then started the hike into the Convention Center. I noticed a variety of bumper stickers. Normal ones like “My Body, My Choice,” and “Spay and Neuter Your Pet,” lots of “Pagan and Proud,” a couple Darwin fishes, two “Don’t mess in the affairs of Dragons, for you are tasty and go well with ketchup,” and even a “Carpe Nocturne.” Hundreds of people were exiting these cars and streaming towards the building.
“Cecily,” I hissed.
“Yeah?”
“They all look human.” I was craning my neck around trying to spot supernatural looking creatures.
Cecily gave me an exasperated look, “Don’t you pay attention? That’s the point. Everyone is supposed to pass as human. If you can’t pass, you can’t be part of the USB.”
I stumbled over my feet as an implication hit me, “Do you mean there are things out there that can’t pass as human?”
She nodded.
“The Loch Ness Monster?”
She shrugged, “I don’t know about that one. She’s probably just an old dinosaur. More like Wendingos, Thunderbirds, Chupacabras, Lamias, things like that.”
I wanted to ask what a Chupacabra was but we were entering the building and there was more security at the door. The guards were working in pairs. One of each pair stood idly by, watching the people entering. Since all the guards’ faces had the same bored look I took it to mean that they were really watching everyone closely. The second of each pair was holding a wooden stick in their hand, about the size of a drumstick (music not chicken) and waving it over each person’s body as they entered. All of the guards were wearing black cargo pants, boots, and black shirts that read “SuperCon Security” across the front and back.
“Try to be quiet,” Cecily mouthed at me as we approached.
I narrowed my eyes at her but remained silent. A little guy with the stick – make that wand – waved it over her body and then motioned her through the door. I stepped up and tried to look like I belonged. The wand started to jerk up and down in the guy’s hand. Four of the bored looking security guards were on me in a flash. All of them had their teeth out and looked like they would love to take a bite out of my skin. I don’t want to know what would have happened if Cecily hadn’t walked back through the door with a surprised look on her face.
“She’s with me,” she announced, a little late to my way of thinking.
The little guy with the wand shook his head. “She’s not a member.”
“Cecily?” I asked nervously, my feet were barely brushing the floor. One of the guards was holding my arm in a bruising grip.
“Hush, Piper. I’ll take care of this.” She turned on the guards with a snarl, “Release her, this instant.”
Now it was the guards turn to shake their heads. “You know we can’t do that. She’s not a member. She can’t enter.”
Cecily flashed a badge at the guy with the wand. By this time a huge crowd had gathered ‘round to gawk. I wanted to sink into the floor. “It is my job to bring her before the SS,” she growled. “Put her down and let us through. She does have magic.”
I could tell just by looking at the little guy that he was not going to let us through. He looked like a dweeb. A homely, nerdy dweeb. A homely, nerdy dweeb, who had been given a bunch of power. There was no way he going to back down. I sighed and decided to use the Voice. It was what had forced me into this situation in the first place. The very least it could do was get me out. And maybe demonstrating my “magic” would prove I could enter.
“Put me down now and let us enter,” I commanded.
Two of the guards dropped me like a hot potato. The other two moved slower but still took a step back in surprise.
The power freak nodded his head and said, “You can enter.”
I snickered.
Cecily looked like she wanted to smack me. “I had it under control,” she muttered in my direction. “See?” she spoke to the guards. “The witch’s wand must be defective. She has magic, as I said.”
I snickered some more.
The guards nearest me looked thoughtful.
“It appears that you may pass, slurpee,” said one. “Although such a juicy morsel as yourself should be careful here. There are things that might eat you.” He flashed long white canines at me in a lascivious leer.
I marched past with my nose in the air. Cecily grabbed my elbow and hustled me through the door.
“Not a good idea, slurpee.” She was definitely annoyed. “That witch will not forgive you for humiliating him in public.”
I snickered again. I couldn’t help it.
“What are you laughing at?” she demanded.
I broke into a giggle, “You said ‘witch’s wand.’”
She looked lost, “Yes?”
I shrugged helplessly, “I don’t know, it just struck me as really funny. Witch’s wand. That guy looked like he lived in his parents’ basement and could recite every line from The Lord of the Rings.”
“Regardless,” Cecily said firmly, “Things are not as they appear in your world. Many of the witches have . . .” she trailed off and paused, searching for a word, “. . . extremist views on other supernatural beings, not to mention disdain for humans.” She looked me over carefully. “Perhaps you are more than you seem as well. The wand recognizing you as human could be a very good thing,” she paused again, then said enigmatically, “or a very bad thing.”
“What?” I was annoyed. “Don’t go all Obi-Wan Kenobi on me! What are you talking about? Of course I’m human, aren’t you human too?”
Cecily shook her head. “No. I was human. I am no longer. We will talk later. First we must sign in.” She waved her hand toward some long tables set up near the door.
It looked at first glance like every o
ther conference I had ever attended. White signs on tall poles stood above tables filled with papers, folders, name tags, and other conference paraphernalia. It took me a second to realize that instead of the traditional “A-C,” “D-F,” etc. written on the signs, there were far more interesting classifications.
I read each sign and tried to keep my eyes from popping out of my head. Two I had obviously expected: “Vampires” and “Werewolves.” The rest were a little much to take in. There were several signs that said: “Shapechangers” with strange words after like “Selkies,” “Naga,” and ones I kind of understood like “Naiads and Dryads.” Two read “Fae: Seelie,” and “Fae: Unseelie,” and the one that said “Demons” made me a little uncomfortable. I had to ask about one of the signs.
“Cecily,” I whispered. “What’s The WAND?”
“The witches and necromancers deputation,” she whispered calmly, quickly signing in at the vampire table and picking up her stack of material. I sincerely hoped they included a map, because the sheer size of the concourse was overwhelming, and we hadn’t gotten much past the entrance.
I stopped in my tracks and she ran into me from behind. “Did you say necromancers?” I tried not to squeal.
“Yes,” she snipped and grabbed my arm to pull me towards a small table at the end of the row. The sign above read “Applicants.” “This is where you sign in.”
“What am I applying for?”
“Membership in the USB.”
“Oh.” I looked at her. “Do I want to be a member of the USB?”
“Do you want to live?”
“Yes.” I didn’t have to think about that.
“Then you want to be a member. It’s the only way.”
“I guess I’ll have to take your word for it,” I muttered and reached over to grab a pen to sign.
There was a line for my name, the country of my birth, my age, and then species. I had to smile. I’ve never seen that on a sign-in form before. I couldn’t read the few names above mine, they were horribly scrawled, but the few on the page above that were written in the same sort of heavy block penmanship, and on the species line was written “Gargoyle.”
“I guess I’m not in Kansas anymore, Toto,” I said quietly and filled out a white name tag that read: “Hello! My Name Is:” I almost wrote “Inigo Montoya,” but settled for “Piper C.” instead.
“Now what?” I asked Cecily.
She was checking her thick folder, flipping through pages. “Now you have to go before the USB and petition to become a member.”
“That’s it? They just vote to let me join?”
“No. They will vote whether or not to send your case before the Synod. They will vote on whether or not you can join.”
“Sounds complicated.”
“Yup.” She made a wry face. “We may not be human, but we have definitely copied your style of bureaucracy.”
I looked around. The huge windows were mostly dark, outside lights having a hard time competing with the indoor brilliance. The concourse was filled with people. People, people, everywhere. Some were outlandishly dressed in dark robes with strange symbols embroidered all over, some were punked out in the latest Goth style, others looked like people you might meet at the PTA. But they all looked human.
“Are you sure I’m the only human here?” I asked again.
Cecily looked at me and grinned. “I certainly hope you are human.” Before she could say more we were surrounded by a menacing group. They were all tall, blond, slender, and incredibly beautiful. Or at least, I would have found them beautiful if they didn’t look like they wanted to tear us limb from limb.
“Cecily,” one of them spat. She was wearing a designer dress that looked like it was painted on her body. On me, that kind of dress would have highlighted every inch of cellulite, every tiny bulge, and the slightly sagging skin around my waist that came from childbirth. Looking at this woman I swore to myself again that I was getting a tummy tuck as soon as Mark and I were done having kids. I felt like an old dirty sneaker next to a pair of Jimmy Choo’s. Not that I would know a Jimmy Choo if it kicked me in the butt. I was more a Payless sort of gal.
“Mailia,” Cecily said calmly. “Greetings to you and your house.”
“Bloodsucker,” the gorgeous woman snarled. “You think you have won? This is just beginning. Your puny little human will not sway the Synod’s vote.”
“Piper,” I said brightly, sticking my hand out, “Piper Cavanaugh. Nice to meet you.”
The woman took a step back. “Your words will not work here, human.” With that, she spun on her heel and regally marched off, her entourage following.
“Uh, Cecily?” I raised my eyebrows. “What’s going on? Why would that woman care if I joined the USB?”
Cecily bit her lip. “Weeellll,” she stalled. “It’s a little more than that.”
I restrained myself from grabbing her around the neck and shaking her until her teeth fell out. “How much more?”
She continued to chew on her bottom lip. “A lot more,” she finally answered.