Kelsey told her.
She shot a distinctly unfriendly smile at Kristen and said, “I’ll be right back.”
Then she turned away from them and headed into the store.
Kristen seethed. “I could strangle her. I swear.”
Jake didn’t reply.
He put the Camry in gear again and drove away from the curb.
CHAPTER FORTY
The auditorium was abuzz with excitement as the students of Rockville High began to file in. Some hurried to claim the premium seats up front, while the usual mix of stoners and burnouts went immediately to the seats at the very back. The reason for the special assembly still had not been announced, but rumors were flying about a special performance by a local rock band that had just been signed to a major record label. The rumor was spread by Lamia’s small contingent of student followers, who would die alongside their classmates today. These students believed their sacrifices would be rewarded in the afterlife. Of all the many lies Lamia had told them, this had been the most compelling. She had convinced them they would rule as kings and queens in a vague ethereal kingdom.
Lamia found it amusing.
They were in for quite the surprise on the other side of the veil.
Eternal misery instead of eternal bliss.
It gave her great pleasure to think of the eons of pain awaiting them. However, she did feel a grudging appreciation for how effectively they had spread the rumor. Although they were not actually here, the band rumored to play was real enough. Their fliers were up all over town. And most of the students now seemed convinced the closed curtain at the front of the stage would soon part to reveal musical instruments and stacks of amplifiers. This was good. It kept the students interested and happy and diverted speculation about other reasons for the special assembly. And it eliminated the need to spend too many minutes waiting for stragglers. The auditorium was filling quickly.
Most of Lamia’s adult acolytes had gathered for the event, as well. Some of them were positioned at the various entrances to the auditorium, forming a sort of rear guard that would intercept any students attempting to flee once the Harvest was underway. The others were with her in the backstage area. They talked quietly among each other, but anticipation was evident in their eager expressions. Here was another thing from which she derived significant pleasure. How willing these simple fools were to sacrifice their offspring. She wandered among them with an enigmatic smile on her face, nodding when some greeted her by speaking the name of her new host. Here was the mayor with a glass of brandy in his hand, conversing in low tones with the chief of police. And over here was Mrs. Cheever, the elderly librarian. A young Novice was on his hands and knees before her, licking the soles of the librarian’s shoes. The gullibility of humans never failed to amuse Lamia. There was no real difference between Novices, Adepts, and Priestesses. These titles implying a complex level of hierarchy were all just things she’d made up over time and carried no real weight with her. Humans were all equally loathsome in her eyes. And, of course, none of them knew they would all die after she’d finished with the students, a sort of after-dinner snack. There were no real “chosen ones,” either. The ones she’d favored had served a single, simple purpose-to keep the rest in line when she wasn’t around. She looked forward to devouring them all. The soul-energy harbored by adults was not fresh and strong, but she would take it anyway. Lamia always felt greedy at harvest time. Today she would gorge herself.
She stopped at a table and poured herself a glass of vodka-spiked punch. She tossed the drink back and poured another. A pleasant warmth began to suffuse her. Of all the sensory pleasures available to her in the human form, the effects of alcohol ranked a close second behind sex. This made her think of Jake McAllister, her favorite human in recent memory. And also her best object lesson. Her relationship with him during her time as Moira had been intense. Lots of booze. Lots of sex. Lots of reckless behavior in general. He was the closest she’d ever come to losing control. And that time was the closest she’d come to losing sight of her real purpose, which was simply to perpetuate her existence throughout the ages. She had felt something for him. Something almost like human love. And it had frightened her. She’d had to fight to reclaim her true nature. She eventually succeeded, of course, but by then an incredible, impossible thing had happened-Jake had impregnated her. In all the many thousands of years of her existence, it had never happened before. She’d thought it couldn’t happen, but there’d been no denying the nature of her condition.
Drastic measures had been called for.
An accident was staged. Moira “died.”
And Michael McAllister died for real.
Lamia retired to the shadows for a time and eventually gave birth to a baby girl. Half human. Half demon. And, as far as Lamia knew, an absolute one of a kind. There were many other demons. None of them had ever procreated, as far as she knew. The mystery of how and why it had happened had troubled her. Was it a sign of decay? A signal from the gods that her natural cycle was at long last near an end? She knew demons could not die. But the arrival of her child was unusual enough to spur many wild musings. For a brief time, she considered killing the baby, but could not bring herself to do it. She instead recruited an ostensibly normal family to raise the girl, whom they christened Jordan.
And now a reunion was in the offing. Jordan and her father were on their way to the auditorium, were perhaps outside the building even now.
Lamia couldn’t deny it.
She was looking forward to seeing them again.
A young woman approached her at the refreshments table. “Hello, Bridget. Where’s Angela? I thought she’d be with you.”
Lamia spooned more punch into her glass and looked at the woman, a plumpish brunette named Megan. “Why did you think that?”
Megan smirked. “You’re lovers, aren’t you? Least that’s what I’ve heard on the grapevine.”
“We broke up,” Lamia said. “I don’t know where she is.”
Megan assumed an expression of pity. A not-so-subtle mocking quality was just beneath the surface. “Oh, that’s too bad.” Then her expression brightened and she flashed a phony smile that dripped venom. “I’m sure you’ll find some other dyke to lick your rancid twat soon enough.”
Lamia’s smile never faltered. “You don’t like me much, do you?”
“How did you guess?”
Lamia sipped punched and stared at the woman over the rim of her glass. The temptation to snap the woman’s neck was strong, but she’d hoped to hide in her new host a little longer. She lowered the glass and smacked her lips. “Go away, Megan.”
Megan laughed. “Why? Did I hurt your feelings? And what have you done to yourself? Those clothes look like you dug them out of a time capsule. And what’s with the Bon Jovi circa 1989 hair? Somebody not tell me about a costume party after the Harvest?”
She had wondered when someone would comment on her new look. It was something she had cooked up solely for Jake McAllister’s benefit. Bridget’s familial resemblance to Moira was strong to begin with, but she’d realized there were some things she could do to emphasize it. Some quality time in front of a mirror with a can of Aquanet went a long way toward painting the proper picture. The rest of it was a matter of selecting the proper clothes and applying the right makeup. She wore a denim jacket over a frilly blouse and a tight black miniskirt. The whole outfit screamed ’80s groupie slut, an impression completed by a dramatic application of eye shadow and a thick layer of mascara that emphasized her cheekbones.