The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires(103)

“I promise,” she said.

“I’m trusting you, Patricia,” he said. “You know I wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

“I know,” she said.

“I want you to know all about me,” he said. “When you’re ready, I want to spend a lot of time with you.”

She was proud of the way she kept her voice calm and steady.

“Me, too,” she said.

“Oh,” he said. “Before I go, the damnedest thing happened this morning.”

“What?” she asked, numb.

“I found Francine Chapman’s driver’s license in my car,” he said, his voice full of wonder. “Remember Francine? Who used to clean for me? I don’t know how it got there, but I took care of it. Strange, right?”

She wanted to dig her nails into her face, and rake them down, and rip off her skin. She was a fool.

“That is strange,” she said, no life left in her voice.

“Well,” he said. “Lucky I found it. That could have been hard to explain.”

“Yes,” she said.

“I’ll wait to hear from you,” he said. “But don’t make me wait too long.”

He hung up.

Her one job as a parent was to protect her children from monsters. The ones under the bed, the ones in the closet, the ones hiding in the dark. Instead, she’d invited the monster into her home and been too weak to stop it from taking whatever it wanted. The monster had killed her mother-in-law, seduced her husband, taken her daughter, and her son.

She was too weak to stop him alone, but he had to be stopped. There weren’t many people left she could turn to.

She picked up the phone and called Mrs. Greene.

“Yes?” Mrs. Greene said.

“Mrs. Greene,” Patricia said, and cleared her throat. “Can you make it downtown Monday night?”

“Why?” Mrs. Greene asked.

“I need you to come to my book club.”





CHAPTER 36


On Monday, temperatures plunged around noon and dark clouds started piling up overhead. Leaves skimmed the Old Village’s empty streets. On the bridge, sudden gusts blew cars sideways, forcing them to abruptly shift lanes. It got dark by four, and windows rattled in their frames, doors blew open suddenly, and the wind tore limbs from live oaks and smashed them down in the middle of the street.

The black wind pushed hard on the windows in Slick’s hospital room and the glass creaked, while inside, the air felt as cold as the inside of a refrigerator.

“Is this going to take long?” Maryellen asked. “Monica has a Latin project due tomorrow and I need to help her build a Parthenon out of toilet paper tubes.”

“I don’t like being away from home,” Kitty said, tucking her hands beneath her paper gown to keep them warm.

Kitty’s gown was tied sloppily, and Patricia could see her brown sweater with two silver sequined handprints on its chest through the paper. Maryellen wore a gingham blouse and a neatly tied paper gown. The overhead fixture had been turned off and the only light came from fluorescent bars over Slick’s headboard and over the sink, filling the room with shadows. Slick sat up in bed, a navy cardigan covered in aquamarine triangles draped over her shoulders. Patricia had done the best she could with her makeup, but Slick looked like a skull wearing a fright wig.

Someone tapped on the door, and Mrs. Greene came in.

“Thank you for coming,” Patricia said.

“Hello…Mrs. Greene.” Slick smiled.

It took Mrs. Greene a moment to recognize her, and Patricia saw her eyes become stricken with horror, and then she wrestled them into a pleasant expression.

“How are you, Mrs. Paley?” she said. “I’m sorry you’re feeling poorly.”

“Thank you,” Slick said.

Mrs. Greene perched on a chair, purse in her lap, and a silence fell over the room. The wind thumped at the windows.

“Slick,” Maryellen said. “You wanted us to come see you, but I’m getting a sinking feeling you have a secret agenda.”

“I’m sorry, y’all,” Kitty said. “But can we hurry this up?”

The door opened again, and they all turned and saw Grace. Everything inside Patricia squirmed and twisted away.

Grace nodded to Slick, then saw Mrs. Greene and Patricia.

“You called and asked me to drop by,” she told Slick. “But it seems a little crowded right this minute. I’ll come back another time.”

She turned to go and Patricia shouted, “No!”

Grace looked back, eyes blank.

“Don’t go,” Slick wheezed from where she sat. “Please…”

Caught between making a scene and doing something she didn’t want to do, Grace did something she didn’t want to do. She threaded her way between Maryellen and Kitty and took the only open seat, which was the one closest to the bed. Slick and Patricia had decided it would be harder for her to leave that way.

“Well,” Grace said in the long silence.

“You know,” Maryellen said, “it’s like the old book club’s back together again. Any minute someone’s going to pull an Ann Rule out of her bag.”

Patricia leaned over and pulled Dead by Sunset out of her bag. Everyone laughed stiffly, except Grace and Mrs. Greene, who didn’t get the joke. Slick’s laughter turned into a coughing fit.