The Holy Death

Chapter 32

"Were close," Jeremiah said.

"Be that as it may, she is a guest here, and she will be joining us. I do hope you all can be civil. It would disappoint me if you were not civil. Now, please, ladies, your food is getting cold. Cressida will be served when she arrives."

"Look, Santa Muerte," Scott said, "Santa Muerte. That's just weird. I mean, it's long and awkward to keep saying. Can I call you 'Santa' for short? And isn't 'Santa Muerte' a girl's name, anyway?"

It looked to Scott like the Santa Muerte was about to break into a giggle. He was so disappointed when that didn't happen. "Indeed, I am the embodiment of the true Santa Muerte, the Holy Death. She came to me long ago and made me her vessel. And no, I'd rather you didn't call me 'Santa'. As much as I like blood, I am not enamored of the color red, nor do I ride around in a sleigh. And there are precious few reindeer here in the Mexican desert. Anyway, I hear our other guest approaching!"

"Okay, SM," the Succubus said from beyond the dining room, "We have guests. These guys better be pretty fucking special if you're gonna wake me up at oh-fucking early in the morning!"

She walked into the dining room wearing a plush white dressing robe, no makeup, and her hair done up in a top knot. She stopped as soon as she saw them seated there. Her eyes met Jeremiah's.

"Oh," She gasped, "I see. Guests."

"Please, Cressida," The Santa Muerte said, "take a seat. There's one here, next to... excuse me, what is your name, young lady?"

"Dawn. Dawn Rhinebeck."

"Ah, Dawn Rhinebeck, soon to be Dawn Rhinebeck-Campbell, correct? Congratulations on that, by the way. Yes, right next to Dawn, and right across from Jeremiah."

No one was happy with that arrangement. Dawn looked at Cressida with angry, burning eyes, and Cressida gave her the same look in return. Jeremiah also gave the same angry, fiery glare. Cressida did not meet Jeremiah's glare the same way, instead looking away. Was it shame, or conviction? Whatever it was, Scott hoped right then that she was feeling like crap.

"I'm a bit underdressed," Cressida said. The table fell into an awkward and hostile silence. Scott finally spoke up, hoping to break the tension.

"Well, it's real nice to see you, Cressida."

"No, it isn't," She spat.

"You're right, it isn't. You used us. You used Jeremiah."

"Please, Scott," Jeremiah said, "Leave me out of this."

"And for what?" Scott continued, "Money? Was it money? I bet it was money. Well, I hope they paid you real good, because you are obviously really good at your job. That wasn't a compliment, by the way."

Cressida simply glared at Scott as the Santa Muerte held up his hand. "Please! I did ask for everyone to be civil! Why cannot we be civil to each other, and enjoy a finely prepared breakfast. It is fine, is it not?"

"Some of the best huevos rancheros I've had," Grace said, "At least since I was a kid."

The Santa Muerte asked where Grace was from, in Spanish. She answered him, in Spanish.

"Nuevo Mexico, outside of Socorro, eh? Very nice."

"Not really. Had my first encounter with a vampire out there. I ended up killing the bastard."