Page 85 of Bad Luck Vampire

“I killed you,” George said with confusion, staring at Alasdair’s face over her head. “You’re dead. You have to be.”

Movement drew Sophie’s gaze to the side in time to see Colle stepping from the shadows in the entry up the hall.

George looked too and immediately began shaking his head with confusion. Stumbling back a step as he looked from one to the other, he said, “No. You’re dead. How can there be two of you? What’s happening? You’re dead. What’s happening?”

The uncles moved forward a step then, remaining in the shadows, but just visible enough that with their familial features similar to Colle and Alasdair, they could be mistaken for them.

Sophie watched as George freaked out and began mumbling to himself in horror about clones and robots, and nonsense. Part of her was enjoying it and thinking he deserved it after everything he’d done, everything he’d taken away from her, and all of her loved ones he’d killed. Not just for her loss of them, but for their loss too. Andrew, Beverly, John, Derek, and even her parents had all had their lives cut short, bright futures abruptly ended. Her parents would never enjoy their life in BC or see her children, their grandchildren. Beverly would never experience romantic love, marriage, birth, or any of the joys she could have had. The same was true of Andrew, John, and Derek. They’d all missed out on so much because of the man nearly blubbering in front of her.

She hated him for that.

Sophie had never loathed anyone in her life as much. She loathed him even more because she had loved him like a second father. Because she had been grateful for his part in fostering her. She had been so grateful she’d felt guilted into working for him for years despite it not being what she’d wanted. But it had all been a manipulation on his part, so he could stalk her, watch her, control her, and kill anyone she was foolish enough to care about.

However, while part of her was enjoying his confusion and fear, another part just wanted him away from her.

“What happens now?” she asked finally.

“What do you want to happen?” Alasdair asked solemnly.

“What are the options?” Sophie asked after a moment.

“There are a few. We can call the mortal police and let them handle him,” he offered.

Sophie was shaking her head before he finished speaking. “I can’t imagine how that would affect the family. Megan, Bobby, Mrs. Tomlinson . . . they’re good people, Alasdair. They don’t deserve learning the man they love is a sick, twisted, crazy asshole who killed so many people. They don’t deserve the fallout from the press either, everyone looking at them, digging into their lives. The company would probably end up going under because it’s owned by the family of a killer.” She shook her head. “I can’t do that to them.”

“We could handle him, then,” Alasdair offered quietly.

“How?” Sophie asked at once, noting that George had stopped mumbling to himself about Alasdair being dead, and yet there were now multiples of him. Instead, he was watching them and listening.

“A three-on-one mind wipe,” Alasdair offered. “It might leave him a blank slate and rewritable, or might just leave him an empty vessel and in a bed in the psych wing of a local hospital for the rest of his life.”

Sophie didn’t get to ask what exactly a three-on-one mind wipe was. George was shouting “No!” now.

He stumbled back another step, coming up against the sliding glass door to her balcony, then quickly turned, unlocked it, and rushed out onto the balcony.

Sophie frowned and glanced around at the men. She could see they had those concentrated expressions on their faces that she suspected meant they were reading or controlling him. But they also all had small frowns on their faces. She didn’t recall Alasdair telling her that immortals often couldn’t read or control the insane, until the men suddenly all charged for the balcony door, including Alasdair, who took the time to shift her gently aside first.

Sophie hurried after them, but it was all over by the time she got out on her balcony. There was no sign of George and the men were all at the railing, Alasdair with his hand still out as if he’d tried to grab something. She heard the squeal of a vehicle’s brakes, a thud, and a scream then, and hurried to the railing to push her way between Ludan and Alasdair.

“I’m sorry, love,” Alasdair muttered, straightening beside her and slipping an arm around her waist as she leaned over the railing to peer at the circular driveway below. “I couldn’t grab him in time.”

Sophie stared at the scene below. There wasn’t much to see, the top of a delivery van with dress-pant-clad legs sticking out from beneath it, and a woman running out from the building and into view.

“He fell right in front of the van,” Connor commented. “It hit him before he hit the ground. It would look like an accident rather than a suicide if not for the witness.”

“I’ll take care of the witness,” Tybo said, retreating from the sunny balcony. “I’ll bring back another cooler of blood too when I return.”

“I better go help him in case the police need handling,” Colle commented. “We don’t want the driver taking any fault for this.”

The uncles grunted, but after a hesitation, Alasdair eased away from Sophie and said, “I’ll give him your keys so they can both get back in.”

“My keys are on the hall table,” Sophie said, and then turned back to the railing to again peer down at the body of the man who had been something like a monster under her bed since she was eleven years old. She told herself, he was gone. He couldn’t hurt anyone again.

Sophie was glad, but felt guilty for it, because she knew his death would cause a great deal of pain for Megan, Bobby, and Deb. While she felt nothing.

“It would ha’e been more painful fer them to learn what he’d done,” Ludan said quietly. “At least this way, they’re spared that.”

Sophie turned to peer at the centuries-old man, surprised to see that his normally hard, grim face was almost soft with sympathy now.

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