Read Online Dead is the New Black by Marianne Stillings - Free Book Online Page A

watched me carefully as she held the
elevator door open, but not as carefully as I watched her.
    For the moment, I had to keep my fears under
control and be patient. If it were just me, I’d take my chances out
in the snow, but with the storm and the isolation and the
wheelchair, I had no choice but to stay put.
    The puncture wounds on Mom’s neck were small
and she seemed not to be bothered by them. From the look of things,
she wasn’t a member of the undead or a creature of the night just
yet, so she was still salvageable. I needed to protect her from
another attack and then get her to the hospital as soon as
possible.
    As I pushed my mom’s wheelchair out of the
elevator, I felt a strong sense of self-loathing with only one
thing on my mind…
    What a damned fool I’ve
been.
    As Lucy led the way to the parlor, my mother
began to mumble and shake her head. Bending toward her ear, I
whispered, “Mom? Is something wrong?”
    Without turning, she suddenly shouted,
“Woof.”
    I moved around to crouch in front of her.
“Mom?”
    She blinked a few times before making eye
contact with me. It happened so seldom these days, it took me a
little off guard.
    With a furrowed brow, she appeared to be
searching for a lost puzzle piece. She glanced around the room,
settling her gaze on Lucy standing by a closed door, beyond which,
I assumed, lay the parlor.
    Returning her attention to me, Mom said,
“Where have I been, Lady?”
    I cupped her cool hands together in mine.
“We’ve been upstairs, and now we’re going—”
    “No,” she said, her brown eyes clouded with
confusion. “No, no, no. Where have I been ?
I can’t seem to remember. So much…lost time…I…”
    Her words trailed off and she became silent
once more. Over the last few years, she’d had occasional moments of
lucidity, but this one seemed different in some way.
    “Missus?” Lucy called out. Turning the handle
on the door, she opened it. “This way, missus. They’re all waitin’
fer us.” She grinned her incisor-challenged, pointy-canined
grin.
    Dammit. Reluctantly, I moved around behind
the wheelchair and continued propelling it toward the yawning
parlor door.
    Whatever was up with Mom would have to wait
for now.
    Though the parlor was enormous, it reflected
the same cozy tone as the rest of the house—the small portion of
the house I’d seen, anyway. Overstuffed leather chairs,
brocade-covered settees, plush sofas, and carved-oak coffee tables
were arranged in such a way as to encourage relaxation and
conversation. Beautiful landscape oils filled the walls, and at the
far end of the room, an enormous fireplace offered a roaring
blaze.
    All eyes turned to watch as we entered the
room.
    A quick inventory allowed me to identify
those people I’d already met.
    The man himself—Dr. Jonathan Van Graf—stood
with one arm resting on the polished cherry mantel. Though his
rugged face held no particular expression, his blue eyes seemed to
smile at me as I wheeled Mom to a spot near the fire. Of course, I
could have been mistaken, and what I thought was a warm greeting
was just the reflection of firelight on his glasses.
    Leech stood next to him, her arms folded, her
shiny obsidian eyes glaring at me. No mistaking that glint for
firelight.
    Wolf and Igor sat on opposite ends of a love
seat near a bay window. Wolf was still in his jeans and purple
tie-dye T-shirt, while Igor had changed into a khaki jumpsuit such
as mechanics wear.
    Still attired in their respective aprons, Ura
Troll was joined by Lucy, who sat perched on a settee like a
nervous bird ready to take flight at the least sign of a
predator.
    Shoving off from the fireplace mantel, Jon
walked toward me. “Everyone,” he said. “This is Stephanie Scott and
her mother, Mrs. Wilder. Stephanie is Moonrise’s new
housekeeper.”
    A variety of greetings—from grunts to murmurs
to restrained hellos—emanated from the assemblage following his
introduction.
    Jon gestured to a short, pudgy, bald