Chapter Four
And that’s how, six minutes later, the respected and often feared vampire ended up at the local supercenter with a suspiciously quiet toddler tucked under his arm. The reason for the sudden docility hit John’s nose first. Right after, he caught a warm sensation growing over his side. Easing Cody off his hip, the Enforcer looked down and shuddered at the sight of a wet brown spot oozing through the sleeper. The stain had spread over his work jacket and was seeping up his shirt and down over the waistband of his jeans.
“Blow out, huh?” Sympathetically smiling at them, another shopper pulled a cart from the stacked line.
“Huh?”
“Your baby”—she gently chucked Cody under the chin—“looks like he overfilled his diaper.” She wrinkled her nose. “Smells like it too.”
“Yeah,” John said grimly, “I got that. Do you know how to…ah…fix him?”
The woman stepped back, her lips suddenly prim.”Are you telling me you’ve never changed him? Your own child? He’s what? Two years old?”
When John only stared at her blankly, she shook her head and tossed one last insult over her shoulder before heading off, “Your poor wife.”
“She could have just said no,” John grumped as he plopped Cody into the seat of the basket and shuddered anew at the squishing sound.
Cody made a little growling sound which John decided to take as a downright adorable agreement.
Feeling slightly better, he turned and started rolling the trolley in the opposite direction of the critical woman. Then made an exasperated noise. Just his freaking luck. He’d picked a cart with an annoyingly squeaking front right wheel.
The bright fluorescent lighting, the noises, the smell—this was hell, John reflected as he looked in every direction for the rugrat section. He might have been able to handle the rest, but the scent wafting up from the innocent-looking human was making his eyes water.
“You might look all sweet, but in reality, you’re nothing more than a sewage factory,” he said severely to the unimpressed Cody. “We better get in and out of here ASAP. If that gunk dries on you, I’ll have to buy a blowtorch to clean off your butt.”
It took him almost an entire circuit around the store to find the department he wanted. “God help me,” he groaned upon finding the extensive children’s section. Aisle after aisle of shelving was crammed full with juvenile paraphernalia. What child, he shook his head in disgust, shock, and awe, possibly needed a fraction of the stuff?
Spotting the car seats, he headed in their direction only to find a mind-boggling selection. Since Rafe had said he thought Cody was about two, he was forced to read the box sides until he found one that said it would take a kid up to five years.
That went into the back of the shopping cart. Then, since he couldn’t avoid Cody’s barnyard stench, he decided diapers were next on the list. Once he’d found them, however, the sight of the brightly packaged boxes made him feel old and amazingly out of touch.
He’d forgotten diapers were no longer cloth but were now newfangled disposable things. Or had he ever known? Searching his memory, he couldn’t remember ever seeing a baby butt wrap, and he’d certainly never put one on a kid.
And look at these. Wet wipes. Now weren’t they a handy idea, he marveled. And so smart of the marketer to conveniently display them right next to the plastic underwear. Scented or unscented? He frowned at the containers before choosing the scented ones. Hopefully, their perfume would help mask the kid’s current aroma. John tossed a box of 180 wipes into the cart and then hesitated. Would that be enough? He had an uneasy feeling something more powerful might be needed to take care of the foul load. Like a fire hose or better yet a gas mask and toxic waste removal kit.
He settled on grabbing five more containers.
Farther down, a dizzying display of baby food caught his eye. If he was hungry, then he had to figure Cody also needed to eat. Studying the labels, he tried to recall his favorites. Had he liked bananas, peas, or beef? After being on a blood diet for over three-quarters of a millennium, it was hard to remember the taste of food. Now, how much did little humanoids eat anyway?
He considered Cody’s rounded little body and grabbed a couple of cut-off case boxes. John filled them with what he hoped was a decent assortment of toddler varieties. For good measure, he tossed in a package of six plastic-backed bibs and a rubber coated spoon. He’d never have thought about such accessories, but they were also conveniently hanging in plain view.
The toy section was as unnecessary for his purposes as it was impossible to bypass. Overflowing with colors, shapes, and sizes meant to tempt the eye, John was dazzled. The kid also perked right up. Bouncing in his seat, he pointed and babbled excitedly.
John turned down the child-seducing and adult soul-sucking aisle as if pulled by a string. They’d take a second to look…Maybe a full minute. But no more than that. He’d grab something to keep the kid happy in the car, and they’d get out of there.
He was proud of his resolve as they only made one pass through the toys, and then on into the clothing section. Since the wet spot on his side was making his skin crawl, he decided they both needed a change from the skin out. Afterward? He planned to throw all the soiled items into the nearest trash receptacle and toss in a lit match.
And because he didn’t trust the kid not to do a stinky repeat, he needed spares. The racks of clothing were regarded with grim determination. They were going to need a buttload of extras.
Heading back to the front of the store and the registers, he spotted the dairy products. Hadn’t the babysitter mentioned something about milk? Stopping, he stared bemusedly inside the cases. What in the hell had they done to milk? What did whole, skim, or two percent mean? He just wanted milk. Dammit.
After a bit of going back and forth, he selected a gallon jug of the whole stuff. It sounded the most natural to him. It could be kept cold in the cooler along with the bagged blood he carried in the back of his SUV.
Finally, he made it to the cash register and piled his purchases onto the black conveyer belt, blinking a little as he did so. How could he have possibly crammed so much stuff into one cart? So busy wondering, he almost missed the total.
“Four hundred and fifty-three dollars?” Blankly, he echoed the clerk’s words.
The checkout woman offered a nervous little smile. “And 89 cents. Ye-yes, sir,” she stammered, her body cringing involuntarily. That made him feel bad. Then again, he didn’t know if she was recoiling because she feared he was going to yell at her or if it was due to the noxious scent rolling off him and his small associate.
Regardless, it wasn’t her fault. He was only shocked at himself. Frugal by nature, John never suspected he would suddenly develop shopping control issues when confronted by the kiddie department. What in the hell had he bought—he glanced at his watch—in less than thirty minutes? Befuddled, John stared at all the bagged items crammed every which way into the cart.
Well, there was the cool looking steering wheel which could be mounted right on Cody’s new car seat. And a brightly colored plastic truck, several plush toys—plus the one that laughed that was cuter than hell. In honor of the now demised kitty blanket, which needed to be burned, he’d picked out a sturdy picture book with fuzzy kittens on the cover.
Oh, and there was that mesmerizing thing that played lullabies while soothing images scrolled across a plexiglass screen. And…and too much more to count.
But the crowning touch was perched high on top of everything else. In John’s defense, he didn’t know how anyone could have resisted the almost life-sized pony complete with bridle, saddle, and a walking handle in the back. The brightly colored cardboard tag called it a plush, push-pull-ride toy. He’d taken one look at the child pictured on the label and had been inspired to hunt out the obligatory cowboy hat and shiny, silver, star-shaped badge.
Now Cody would match the kid in the photograph, and, well, John thought it stupid to have the horse without the necessary accruements.
The woman cleared her throat, and John flinched. She was still waiting on him. Shutting his mouth that, to his embarrassment, had been stupidly hanging ajar, he quietly stuck his credit card in the reader.
Back at the SUV, he unloaded everything but Cody. Leaving him in the basket, John tethered them together by hooking his foot around the bottom of the cart. Then he got busy opening boxes and removing tags from the clothing they would use right then. Since he couldn’t stand it any longer, he jerked off his jacket and changed his shirt out for one of the plain black tees he’d grabbed.
Only propriety held him back from shucking his jeans right then and there too.
John also understood he was procrastinating. No way did he want to undertake the next task. But that last awful mission needed to be faced before they could get on the road. Before the smelly little bottom could be dressed in a clean outfit and plopped in the brand new car seat, John had to tackle the diaper from hell.
Placing the kid on the seat, he peeled off his clothes. Stuffing the soiled items into emptied plastic bags as he went. Breathing through his mouth, his hands lightly shaking, he pulled back the tabs on the overfilled diaper. He wasn’t sure how but it was even worse than he’d imagined, and he’d imagined a lot. Horrified and impressed in equal measure, he swore in awe-struck accents. “What the hell have they been feeding you?”
Watery and chunky all at once, stool smeared up Cody’s back and down both legs right to the soles of his feet. Although John couldn’t explain it, the sight, somehow, made the smell worse. The noxious odor combined with texture issues was more than enough to cause the hardened vampire’s stomach to heave.
Happily kicking his legs, Cody was reveling in his nudity. Before John knew what he was up to, he plunged a hand down into the goop and promptly smeared crap on the side of his little head.
“Good God, kid, don’t do that.” John gagged, grateful beyond words that no one he knew could see him. With the back of his hand pressed against his mouth, he muttered rather wildly, “I deserve combat pay for this.”
Cody waved his hand, flipping a bit of poop onto John’s new shirt. “Thit,” he eloquently observed.
****
Three more times the vampire stopped to drink from her vein, and the multiple feedings left Joann in a weakened state. There was an insistent buzz in her head, her vision was blurry, and she couldn’t keep her mind focused. Her body needed water, sugar, and protein. Soon.
Otherwise, she didn’t think she’d have any strength left to escape. Not even if Sabriento untied her and helped her out of the car first.
Jo trembled at the thought of him using those fangs on her again. Fangs. Well, she also had teeth. Through an accidental oversight, Vincent had left her arms tied in front of her stomach instead of pulling them behind her back. Since he hadn’t replaced the tape, her mouth was now free, and she could use her teeth to gnaw at the thin, but sturdy hemp cord.
Trying to be discreet, she chewed on the fibers until her jaw ached and she had to rest. Defeated for the moment, she groaned.
“Hey back there. Don’t go dying on me,” Vincent commanded over his shoulder, obviously mistaking the sound for a gasp. “I need you alive.”
The heartlessness of the order further penetrated the haze surrounding her and lit a spark of anger that despair had buried. “Then I suggest you get me something to eat and drink, you bastard. Or I’ll die just to spite you.”
“Whoa. Where did that come from?” Vincent turned to look over his shoulder at her. Facing the road again, he took his hands off the steering wheel, and held them up so she could see his gesture of mock surrender. “Okay. Hang in there. The car needs gas anyway. I’ll take this exit and get you some food.”
Joann considered her options. She hoped he’d go through a fast food drive-thru so she could scream to the attendant for help. At a truck stop, she was less likely to make herself heard. Then again, if Mr. Fangy had to go inside the building for food, it would create an opportunity for her to get out of the car.
Joann’s earlier worry returned. Did she have enough strength left to climb into the front seat of the sports car and get the heavy door open? Do or do not. There is no try she mentally quoted—her mind drew a blank when she tried to recall the name of the big-eared, green sensei.
Didn’t matter who said it first, it was now her new motto. Her plan was simple. She’d get out of the car, scream, and a bunch of burly men gassing up their trucks and motorcycles would rush to the rescue.
She would and could do it. For Cody. There was no try.