But he had a bad feeling that they were al about to head to one of those places or the other.

CHAPTER 13.

Nick?" Mark cal ed through the door as Nick was coming out of the shower. "It's your mom on the phone and she's hotter than Angelina Jolie lying in a bikini on the equator, covered in mud. ... Not that I'm saying your mom is good-looking, not that she isn't, but I don't ever fantasize about your mom 'cause that would just be wrong to do to a guy-not that your mom isn't fantasy worthy ... but- Ah, hel , al that sounded better in my head. My point is, she's angry. Just take the phone before she scalds my ears some more."

Nick paused. That was an interesting tirade and made him wonder about Mark's daydreams-Wait, never mind. Knowing Mark, those had to be terrifying. Heck, he was lucky Mark's dream girl wasn't zombified.

He opened the door only enough to reach through it to get the phone from Mark before he put it up to his ear and braced himself for her anger. "Hey, Mom."

"What are you doing?" Yeah, she was total y upset at him.

That hot tone could melt polar ice caps. She was yel ing so loud, he pul ed the phone about three inches from his ear and stil heard her perfectly. "Boy, where are you? Do you have any idea what time it is? You are so grounded when I see you, which, for your information, had better be soon, as in right now. If you're not walking through the door, which you're not, you're busted. You understand? Nick? Are you listening to me? What do you have to say for yourself? Huh, young man?" He honestly didn't know what to say that wouldn't make her twice as mad, which was not his goal right now. The name of the game ... survival.

I value my freedom, but I see severe restriction ahead.

Too bad there weren't lawyers out there wil ing to represent kids with their parents. "Which question do you want me to answer first?"

"Don't you get smart with me, Nicholas Gautier. I'm too mad at you right now to take it."

He had to clamp down on his own temper. If he'd learned anything in his life, it was that his mom didn't react wel to direct conflict. A nice, contrite Nicky was often one who avoided being grounded even when he deserved it. "I'm sorry, Mom. I'm not trying to be smart." He was trying to get her to stop screaming at him. "I got covered in-" He paused before he said the word "blood." That would flip her out even more. "

-goo during the cla.s.s." A smal lie, but what she didn't know wouldn't give her a heart attack and him a restriction that lasted until he was bald and middle-aged. "I-um, I wanted to take a bath at Bubba's before I headed back and got goo al over the club, which might get you into trouble." Not to mention the sight of his b.l.o.o.d.y clothes would have panicked her into cal ing the police, and the last thing Bubba needed was another arrest on his record. "I should have cal ed and let you know first. I'm real y sorry. I guess I spent more time in the shower than I meant to. Did you know Bubba has one of them steam things that comes down from the ceiling? You should see this bathroom, Mom. It's the coolest awesome ever." She refused to let him distract her. "Are you al right?"

"Yes, ma'am." A little show of respect always went a long way in soothing her.

She sighed. "Then I guess there's no harm. But you did scare me, Nick. I just want you to know that."

"Sorry, Ma. By the way, Bubba said he'd walk me over to the club."

"That's mighty nice of him." Her voice was final y back to normal and not the I-want-your-b.u.t.t-on-a-platter tone it'd been a few minutes ago. "Tel him I said thanks."

"I wil . Is it okay if we stop for something to eat too?" Her tone turned sharp again like she was accusing him of something. "I thought you ate at Mr. Hunter's?"

"I did. But I'm hungry again."

"Oh." She went from angry to calm so fast that he wondered if she wasn't the Ferrari of moms. Her top speed had to be .65 nanoseconds. Maybe less. "You must be growing again.

You want to come get some money?"

"Nah, Mr. Hunter gave me some earlier."

"Why?" Boom! Her anger returned. Granted it was tinged with something he thought might be fear or suspicion, but the primary tone was definitely anger.

"Taxi money in case I needed it to get to work or home. He didn't want me on the streetcar after dark 'cause he said he didn't want me to get hurt." Which, when combined with what Mr. Poitiers had given him, was close to a hundred bucks.

They kept this up and he might actual y start making some progress on his ever-pathetic col ege fund.

"I don't know what I think about that, Nick." What was there to think about? From his point of view if they were wil ing to throw money at him and he didn't have to do anything for it, he was more than wil ing to take it. "Wel , while you figure that out, can I eat?"

She made a sound of aggravation. "I swear you're the lippiest child on the planet. Yes, Nicky, grab something to eat and I'l see you within the hour or I wil come and get you myself. Do you understand? And you wil be a very sorry young man if I do."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I love you, baby." Must be some mutant form of maternal bipolar disorder. There was no other explanation for the frightening mood swings.

"I love you, too, Mom, and I real y am sorry I worried you."

"It's al right. It's what you're best at anyway. Remember to eat some vegetables, and neither french fries nor ketchup count."

"Yes, ma'am." Nick hung up the phone and dressed in his jeans and the Triple B big bal s and brains T-shirt Bubba had loaned him. The best part of it was Bubba's logo on the back that featured a photo of Bubba holding a shotgun over his shoulder as he leaned up against an oversized computer that had smoke coming out of the top of it and a bunch of bul et holes in the monitor. It read: Computer Problems?

Dial 1-888-Ca-Bubba If I can't take care of your problems one way ...

I'll take care of them anotha'

And in smal print under it, it read: We tend all manner of ills for you. Zombies, rodents, and vampires. If you got a pest, we got a cure. Just call us now. We wil believe you.

Yeah, Bubba real y wasn't right in the head, but Nick loved the commercials he and Mark filmed for the store. They were hilarious. And always ended with that slogan. "Ca' Bubba." Sad thing was, he knew for a fact that Bubba had used a few people's computers for target practice, and he didn't want to think about Mark and the anti-zombie duck urine.

Shaking his head, he toweled off his hair and went downstairs to where Bubba, Mark, Simi, Caleb, and Madaug were discussing the great jailbreak.

They are so going to get me arrested and my mom will kill me for it.

Simi pointed to the schematic Bubba had produced from memory of what he liked to cal the numerous "unfortunate incarcerations" he'd had at the parish lockup. "See, now the Simi can napalm that and-"

"That might kil them, Simi," Nick pointed out.

She looked up innocently. "Your point?" Nick was too stunned to answer her honest question.

So Madaug answered for him. "We need Brian alive to test him."

"Wel , poo." Simi crossed her arms over her chest and pouted. "You just take al the fun out of it then. You sure you don't know my akri?"

They ignored her.

Caleb leaned back in his chair to study them. "Can't a lawyer get in to see him?"

Bubba nodded as he studied his diagram. "Wel , yeah, but a lawyer ain't going to spring him."

Caleb smirked. "Depends on the lawyer." Bubba looked up with a scowl. "How you mean?" Caleb's eyes gleamed like a demon eyeing evil. "I know one who owes me a favor."

"You know a lawyer?" Bubba's voice was fil ed with disbelief.

Caleb rubbed his hands down his shirt. "Hey, beneath these ... wel , they're basical y c.r.a.ppy clothes." Nick frowned at his choice of words. Only Caleb would consider his nice designer shirt and jeans c.r.a.ppy. "But beneath them beats the heart of someone who knows the right people wil ing to sometimes do the wrong thing for the right price."

Bubba wasn't completely sold on it and neither was Nick.

"Yeah, but we need to do this before anyone else gets kil ed.

We have to know if this is a cure."

Caleb pul ed out his cel phone. "Can be arranged. Trust me."

Nick wasn't any more wil ing to buy into this than Bubba was. Not to mention, there was one real y important, as yet unaddressed factor. "How much is this going to cost us?" Caleb held his hand up. "Hi. This is Malphas cal ing to talk to Virgil Ward. Is he in?" He gave them a c.r.a.p-eating grin as he waited.

Nick could hear the tone of a deep voice on the line, but he couldn't make out the words.

"Hey, Virg. Long time." Caleb laughed at something Virgil must have said. "No, it's nothing like that. We rather have a situation where we need to get in to jail, not have you get us out."

He paused again to listen. "Yeah, I agree. Stupid is my middle name, you know that. I'm pretty sure you're the one who gave it to me. So can you help a brother out?" He rol ed his eyes. "No, you can't have my soul for it. I don't even have my soul. Yeah, I know you're a bloodsucking attorney, but you're going to have to placate yourself with money like the rest of the mundanes."

Nick pa.s.sed a scowl to Mark, Bubba, and Madaug, who looked as puzzled as he felt. Caleb was definitely an odd duck.

"Is that real y what you want as payment?" he flashed another grin at them. "Done. Can you meet us outside the jail in about twenty minutes? Yeah, we'l see you then. Thanks, bud, and yes, I'm wel aware of the fact that I owe you." Hanging up the phone, he winked at them. "Let's go stun us a zombie."

Nick couldn't believe Caleb had accomplished it so fast.

"I'm impressed."

"Don't be. One of you guys is going to have to feed the vampiric lawyer some blood and it can't be me." Nick rol ed his eyes at Caleb's bizarre humor. "Why? You afraid of a little bite?"

Caleb laughed. "I'm anemic."

"And I'm Catholic. Doesn't that knock me out of the running?

Caleb shook his head at Nick.

"The Simi gots some barbecue sauce in her bag. It kind of looks like blood if you squint at it the right way. And it don't coagulate between your teeth like blood or give you them funky burps, not to mention it tastes a lot better too. Especial y over that type A stuff. Bleh! I'd rather eat my shoes. But that O-flavored blood ... yum!" She straightened and held one finger up in a gesture that strangely reminded him of Smokey the Bear. "And just remember, kids, three out of four demons al prefer barbecue sauce over hemoglobin."

"Oookay." Bubba stepped away from her, which said something. When Bubba repudiated you, you knew you were the poster child for weird. "On that note ... I guess we need to get into the truck."

Grabbing his keys and the cattle prod, Bubba led them outside to his giant dark green Armada, which he said he'd bought because it was one of the few things large enough to haul al of his zombie-kil ing gear.

And it was great for tailgate parties.

Nick cast a doubtful glance at the cattle prod before he got into the back of the truck while the others piled in. "So, out of curiosity ... any ideas on how we're going to get a three-foot cattle prod smuggled into jail?"

Caleb buckled himself in. "That's why we need Virgil. He can smuggle in anything."

"You think a lot of him, don't you?"

Caleb shrugged. "I've known him a long time and have seen him do things that would put hair on your chest."

"Yeah, like what?"

Caleb refused to elaborate.

Bubba got in and drove over to the Orleans Parish intake and lockup. Nick fel quiet as old memories surged of the handful of times he'd visited his dad-not here, but prison, which was basical y the same thing.

"You keep that brat away from me, Cherise. I don't even want to look at his ugly face. Don't bring him up here anymore to see me."

Love you, too, Dad.

Nick stil had no idea how his beautiful, kind mother had hooked up with such a monster. It didn't make any sense.

She'd told him once that she liked bad boys. But there was a difference between a guy like him who had att.i.tude and a guy like his dad who had mental damage.

Why did women and girls find psychos so desirable? Even at his school, it was the vicious loons like Stone who got al the girls while nice guys like him only got the finger when he asked them out. He'd never understand it.

Of course, in his case, his mother's insistence on him wearing these foul y ugly shirts didn't help.

Whatever.

He just hoped that with his DNA linking him to the psycho kil er that he never ended up inside something like this. That was the one promise he'd made to his mother he never wanted to break.

Bubba pul ed around back and parked under a streetlight.

"What now?" he asked Caleb.

"We wait on Virgil."

"How wil he know which car's ours?" Mark asked.

Before Caleb could answer, someone knocked on the window next to Bubba. Bubba jumped a foot in panic. "What the hel ?"

Caleb inclined his head to the ...

Nick scowled as his gaze focused on his friend.

Virgil looked nothing like what he'd expected. A little over six feet tal , he couldn't be any older than sixteen or seventeen.

Even though he was in a suit and dressed like an attorney, he looked like a teenager going to a funeral.

Surely he wasn't a real lawyer. ...

Was he?

And as Nick watched him, something odd happened. Virgil suddenly looked older. Like he was in his late twenties. Nick looked around the truck, but no one else seemed to notice.