Read Online Coffin Fit (The Grateful Undead series Book 4) by Susan Stec - Free Book Online
Authors: Susan Stec
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to the stove we never used, opened the oven door, and snatched the gloves; I tossed Resi one and smirked at my mother.
"Holy shit," Resi whispered from the window as I watched my mother ransack the pot holder drawer. I didn't like the sly smile on her face.
I glanced where Resi was pointing, and caught Betty as she shape-shifted into a hawk and shot straight up. A Bald Eagle circled the large oak tree in the center of our yard in hot pursuit. The eagle went at Betty, claws extended; Betty hit the eagle hard and they rolled in the sky, all beaks and claws until they separated and flew out of view above the oak.
The rest of the vamp critters circled Sonny and the van. He was dressed in navy blue Dockers, a button-down, long-sleeved, white dress shirt—one button open at the collar—penny loafers and navy socks. He had light chocolate eyes, blond hair cut conservatively above his collar, and short sideburns tucked under horn-rimmed glasses. He stood very still as a Gator with a swishing tail waddled by, followed by six squirrels, a raccoon, two armadillos and a gray fox; all of them forming a tight little cluster. The gator hissed at the sky over the oak tree. The raccoon strutted on his hind legs, eyes glaring at JoAnn's upstairs window. I could clearly see his split ear where JoAnn had bit the animal to dislodge it from her water bra the first time she went hunting for blood. We figured she sucked from the animal and then it drew blood into its mouth since the brassiere was totally destroyed. JoAnn didn't want to discuss the incident, but there had to be suckage from both parties for the raccoon to be infected. We didn't know until days later that we had us a vampire raccoon on the property, and by then, the infection had spread to other animals.
A loud screech from outdoors drew my attention as the eagle carcass hit the ground, minus its head, and Betty, in hawk form, landed beside it cawing victory.
Zaire came into the room with two rifles. She handed Resi my .22 rapid-fire Remington —which she took very carefully by the acrylic stock—and kept my .260 Ruger for herself.
The rapid fire had a 40 round clip and was more fun to use, but the Ruger was deadly to all animals in the area, including black bear and gators. The last time we waged war with the vamp critters in the front yard, JoAnn had gotten ahold of the Remington and missed every damn animal she'd aimed at. She managed to shoot up the whole front yard, though. I could still see Zaire's knees hitting her chest as she dodged the rounds. It was funny now, but a fiasco then. I felt real sorry for the old lady in her church dress. She hit the ground and rolled like an experienced Marine .
We bolted through the front door about the time a once domesticated, now wild, monkey—stupid frigging unhappy exotic-pet owners—pulled Sonny to the ground and sat on his chest. I heaved the crossbow to my shoulder, got the little guy in my crosshairs, muscled my asbestos covered index finger over the trigger, and took the shot. The monkey rode the arrow into the nearest tree. With fangs extended, the vamp animal shrieked like a banshee.
"I missed his heart, damn it!" I shouted.
Resi fired three shots into the monkey's forehead. It quieted the animal, but it wouldn't kill it.
"Sonny," I shouted, "drive to the barn and stoke the woodstove!"
He scrambled into the Suburban ; the Hawk flew in behind him. The engine started and the vehicle slowly backed out of the drive and toward the barn about a hundred yards from the house.
Zaire blew the head off the gator, cocked another round into the chamber, and, eye in the Leupold scope, she was scanning for her next victim.
"Don't kill JoAnn's raccoon!" I screamed. "That's the one we have to cage!"
I glanced up at my sister's bedroom window; her frown was pressed against the glass. Damn our immortal hearing.
Resi moved slowly around the oak tree, herding the raccoon in question toward Zaire. I could tell Resi was trying to lock
"Holy shit," Resi whispered from the window as I watched my mother ransack the pot holder drawer. I didn't like the sly smile on her face.
I glanced where Resi was pointing, and caught Betty as she shape-shifted into a hawk and shot straight up. A Bald Eagle circled the large oak tree in the center of our yard in hot pursuit. The eagle went at Betty, claws extended; Betty hit the eagle hard and they rolled in the sky, all beaks and claws until they separated and flew out of view above the oak.
The rest of the vamp critters circled Sonny and the van. He was dressed in navy blue Dockers, a button-down, long-sleeved, white dress shirt—one button open at the collar—penny loafers and navy socks. He had light chocolate eyes, blond hair cut conservatively above his collar, and short sideburns tucked under horn-rimmed glasses. He stood very still as a Gator with a swishing tail waddled by, followed by six squirrels, a raccoon, two armadillos and a gray fox; all of them forming a tight little cluster. The gator hissed at the sky over the oak tree. The raccoon strutted on his hind legs, eyes glaring at JoAnn's upstairs window. I could clearly see his split ear where JoAnn had bit the animal to dislodge it from her water bra the first time she went hunting for blood. We figured she sucked from the animal and then it drew blood into its mouth since the brassiere was totally destroyed. JoAnn didn't want to discuss the incident, but there had to be suckage from both parties for the raccoon to be infected. We didn't know until days later that we had us a vampire raccoon on the property, and by then, the infection had spread to other animals.
A loud screech from outdoors drew my attention as the eagle carcass hit the ground, minus its head, and Betty, in hawk form, landed beside it cawing victory.
Zaire came into the room with two rifles. She handed Resi my .22 rapid-fire Remington —which she took very carefully by the acrylic stock—and kept my .260 Ruger for herself.
The rapid fire had a 40 round clip and was more fun to use, but the Ruger was deadly to all animals in the area, including black bear and gators. The last time we waged war with the vamp critters in the front yard, JoAnn had gotten ahold of the Remington and missed every damn animal she'd aimed at. She managed to shoot up the whole front yard, though. I could still see Zaire's knees hitting her chest as she dodged the rounds. It was funny now, but a fiasco then. I felt real sorry for the old lady in her church dress. She hit the ground and rolled like an experienced Marine .
We bolted through the front door about the time a once domesticated, now wild, monkey—stupid frigging unhappy exotic-pet owners—pulled Sonny to the ground and sat on his chest. I heaved the crossbow to my shoulder, got the little guy in my crosshairs, muscled my asbestos covered index finger over the trigger, and took the shot. The monkey rode the arrow into the nearest tree. With fangs extended, the vamp animal shrieked like a banshee.
"I missed his heart, damn it!" I shouted.
Resi fired three shots into the monkey's forehead. It quieted the animal, but it wouldn't kill it.
"Sonny," I shouted, "drive to the barn and stoke the woodstove!"
He scrambled into the Suburban ; the Hawk flew in behind him. The engine started and the vehicle slowly backed out of the drive and toward the barn about a hundred yards from the house.
Zaire blew the head off the gator, cocked another round into the chamber, and, eye in the Leupold scope, she was scanning for her next victim.
"Don't kill JoAnn's raccoon!" I screamed. "That's the one we have to cage!"
I glanced up at my sister's bedroom window; her frown was pressed against the glass. Damn our immortal hearing.
Resi moved slowly around the oak tree, herding the raccoon in question toward Zaire. I could tell Resi was trying to lock
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