I wish I could feel the caress of his lips, but my fingers are numb.
“Don’t be dashing,” I beg him in a quiet voice. “A girl can only take so much.”
The corner of his mouth drags up, but then he turns serious once more as he straightens. “I’m going to follow you to the edge of the border.”
It’s not a request. There’s no misconception that he will accept a world in which I might refuse the extra (totally unnecessary) protection.
“You’re really that worried?” I measure my own concern against the crinkle between his eyebrows.
He doesn’t respond right away but looks into my eyes with sincerity that cannot be fabricated. “No. You’re really that important.”
Do not kiss this man. Do not kiss him. Don’t get out of the car. Don’t grab onto his shirt and tug him down so you can do things you shouldn’t even joke about with a vampire.
Rome winks at me, which sets off a fluttering in my chest. “Goodnight, Coletta.”
I open my mouth, but no sound comes out. Even as I start up the engine, I’m not sure I will ever be able to make sense of this strange night.
Sure enough, when I pull out onto the main road, Rome’s black luxury sedan with tinted windows follows at a decent clip. If anyone in the city noticed one of the Valentino vehicles tailing them, it would be cause for alarm. But tonight, as the streetlights guide my way home, the fact that Rome has my back grants me a measure of peace I didn’t realize I’d been sorely needing.
Though this night has been the strangest I’ve had in a long time, I know I will be pondering Rome’s protection for days to come.
9
Testing the Truce
Rome
What was that? I can’t stop touching my cheek, even though it’s been a good twelve hours since Colette gave me a shave. I shouldn’t be thinking about her or picturing her face as she peered up at mine, but the second I’m not occupied with work, her heart-shaped face and plush pink lips come rushing back.
Orlando’s voice jerks me to the present, however futilely. I’ve been distracted all night and morning, so he’s had his work cut out for him. “Rome, what do you think?”
“I’m sorry. One more time?”
To his credit, my cousin doesn’t tear into me, though I know he is frustrated. “Three halluci-dens on 6th street that we know of, dealing stuff we didn’t make, so it’s halluci-blend, not halluci-mend.”
Nico talks with his hands as he stands near the window. “Who is pumping this crap into our side of the city? If they don’t know what they’re doing when they cook it up, people could die. Not to mention the entire drug trade used to go through us. This is a giant headache, Rome. With random people dealing this garbage product, we get all of the blowback and the mess, but none of the profits.” My kid brother shakes his head at me. “This is what happens when you don’t demand more of the sheriff, Rome. We need more help than he’s given us. Loads more. I tried to warn you, but you didn’t listen, and now we’ve got a mess on our hands.”
Nico’s lecture doesn’t bother me at all. He’s always shooting his mouth off about something, weighing in on the obvious well after the fact.
I wave off his arrogance. “You of all people should know that the sheriff’s help isn’t always helpful. He arrests the addicts but has no interest, it seems, in locating the dealers.” I run my hand over my face. “This is our end of the city, not his. We will look after our people. If we expect humans to up and start caring… They have no frame of reference for that. I wasn’t naïve enough to think it would all be smooth sailing.” My gaze shifts to Orlando. “Are you handling those three halluci-dens?”
It’s an unnecessary question. Orlando doesn’t need to be told what to do. My cousin is always in step with me, making sure everything goes according to my plan.
Orlando nods once. “Of course. I’m dealing with them tonight if they keep stepping out of line. Sent a message yesterday.”
I love Orlando like a brother. Sometimes more than Nico, who’s got a constant bug up his butt over just about everything. Nico’s young still. He doesn’t understand what I am trying to do.
Then again, Colette is his age, and she gets it. I have to stop making excuses for my kid brother. Just because his parents died doesn’t mean he’s allowed to be a perpetual punk.
Coletta. I can’t place her perfume. It’s flowery with a hint of vanilla, or maybe it’s her shampoo. Either way, I went home smelling like her. I love the scent so much; I didn’t shower this morning. I never bump aside my grooming routine if I can help it. I’m a creature of habit, and I like myself that way. But washing off the scent of her isn’t a feat I am willing to try just yet.
I touch my cheek again and then covertly sniff my fingers.
Vanilla and flowers.
“Rome, what’s your take?” Orlando asks me, reminding me that I’m doing it again—daydreaming about her flirty smile and our witty exchange when I should have my head in the game.
“About what now?” I hold up my hands when Nico scoffs. “Sorry. Got a lot on my mind.”
Orlando hears me while Nico leans his knuckles on my clean mahogany desk. It used to be my father’s intimidating office in the upstairs of our massive home, but now it is mine.
Nico’s displeasure is spread across his features. “Then give me something more than overseeing your deliveries. I’m sick of being benched when actual family stuff is going down.”
I meet my kid brother’s eyes with evenness, refusing to engage with his undying agitation. “You’ll work your way up, just like everyone else. It’s how I did it, and it’s how you’ll rise up in the organization. I don’t want you falling under the weight of the pressure. I love you, Nico. I love you too much to set you up for failure like that.”
I watch my little brother’s jaw tighten. He grinds his teeth like I do when I’m stressed. It’s a bad habit, and one I’ve never been able to crack.
“Out you go,” I tell Nico, motioning to the door.
Nico shoves his body off my desk with sulky force, all but stomping from my home office.
I mean, honestly. If he can’t keep his head when it’s just the three of us, I cannot possibly put him in charge of anything truly risky.
Before Orlando can continue once it’s just the two of us, I blurt out the thing I can’t shake from my mind. “I’m moving the biweekly check-ins with Sheriff Kennedy to Colette’s hair salon in Midtown.” I keep my eyes from my cousin, focusing too hard on a contract that I couldn’t care less about. “There’s no decent place to sit outside, and I want to make sure we’re seen being friendly at a Kennedy business. I’ll need you to send a few tables and chairs to be set outside Colette’s business for us.”
Orlando waits a beat before answering. “On it. I didn’t realize you’d moved the location. I’ll have it scouted. Everything alright?”
I bob my head, trying to keep the movement natural, and not like I have an ulterior motive for moving our meeting there.
Not like Orlando would believe me if I told him. I cannot recall the last time I entertained something as juvenile as a crush.
“Just making sure we’ve got our friendly face on, so the Kennedys know we’re not playing around with the truce. Colette’s okay with it.”
“She is? Man, I haven’t seen her in years. How is she? Must be a pistol if she’s set up her business in Midtown.” Orlando’s voice loses all traces of wistfulness. “Are you sure her salon isn’t a front for Fintan’s loan sharking?”
“I’m sure. I spoke to her myself. If it is a front, she’s not in on it. It’s just a salon. It matters that the city sees our families playing nice. I think it’s a good idea for our guys to start going there to get our haircuts from here on out.”
Orlando’s thick brows raise, and only begin to lower when I fill him in on the arrangement Colette and I made.
“We’re trying to firm up the truce by frequenting their business in plain view of the city. We’re not afraid of Colette or t
he effects of her blood, and the Kennedys aren’t afraid of vampires. If we hold to that, the rest of the city will eventually fall in line. Then once the city makes peace, the rest of the world will follow suit.”
Orlando’s frown isn’t unexpected; he rarely wears any other expression. But this one aimed at me is a little too pointed. “You sure about this? It sounds like we’re walking into the lion’s den with catnip and expecting it’ll all end smoothly.”
I run my fingers over my face, relishing the feel of Colette’s handiwork. “That very well might end up being the case, but if we don’t trust the truce, then what’s the point of any of this? I think Colette made a bold move, opening her business in Midtown and having it cater to both races. I want her to know we have her back in this, even if her family is nervous about it all. She did something none of us had the guts to do.”
Orlando doesn’t argue this obvious point. “Fair enough.”
The scribbled note I found taped to her front door when I exited after she cut my hair is still sitting in my pocket. I’ve read it at least two dozen times, studying the threat that boils my blood.
* * *
Youngblood,
* * *
Join the revolution or you will be sacrificed for the uprising.
* * *
Not terribly original, but the point is clear enough: there are people in Mayfield who want Colette’s blood so they can start killing vampires again. I don’t care if she thinks I’m overbearing. Replacing the locks on her business and having motion sensor flood lights installed in her parking lot is just good sense.
It’s my people I am protecting. It’s got nothing to do with her.
Yeah, I stopped believing that lie this morning, but I still try to force it to sound true. In all honesty, I couldn’t bear it if Colette was snatched at again. It was one horror when she was little, but after holding her in my arms? Even if it meant nothing to her, I don’t do that sort of thing. I don’t comfort women and insert myself so I can harp on about their safety.
There’s no question about it anymore; I need to make sure she is protected.
Now that Orlando is onboard, my brain opens to include more details. “I want to add her salon to our patrol. Make sure no one’s bothering her, alright? I want that business to succeed. Whatever her rent is, I want it negotiated down. Anything she needs, we take care of it.”
Confidence surges in me, now that I can talk about her freely, complimenting her, even. And I can do all of it without arousing suspicion that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about how soft her skin is.
I lean my elbows on my desk, my fingers tented in front of my lips. “Her business has to thrive, Orlando. The truce is only as strong as the weight we put on it. Make sure nothing breaks her, understood? The longer that salon keeps its doors open, the more the city will start to breathe again. The vampires are always afraid we’ll be slaughtered again, and the humans are always nervous we’ll get bloodthirsty and start killing them. Her salon is one of the few places built to help us coexist. See that it lasts.”
“Of course, Rome.”
Orlando exits my office, leaving me alone with my satisfaction.
Finally, I have a legitimate reason to keep tabs on the little firecracker I haven’t been able to get out of my head.
Though I know I am trumpeting the truce and praising the path toward peace, I have never felt more on the edge of danger as Colette’s exquisite smile replays in my mind.
10
Picking Dates
Colette
Of all the things my oldest brother and I do together, selecting dates isn’t one I ever look forward to. “I hate this,” I tell Fintan as I balance my phone between my chin and shoulder, even though he knows as much. “I don’t want to go.”
I open my closet and reach past my walker, which I haven’t had to use in over a year, thank goodness. I grab a dress I don’t care about.
Fintan snorts. “You know, if you whine a little when you say that, it might help your case. The girl you picked for me doesn’t sound like a treat, either, but you don’t hear me complaining about it.”
“Um, I think that’s what you were just passively aggressively doing. If I’m in this mess, so are you.”
“Which is why I’m not complaining. It’s important you find someone, Colette. You’re not getting any younger.”
I balk at him as I change into a boring bra. I don’t want to put a second of thought into enjoying this date. “Excuse me, but my uterus is only twenty-five years old.”
“Which gives you only two decades to crank out as many daughters as you can.”
I blanch at words that should never come from a man, much less my brother. I stare at the light pink painted wall of my bedroom, wondering how my eldest brother and I grew to be this different. Declan and I are best friends. I’m still the only person in the family who knows that Declan is gay. What with Fintan trying to control even the rate at which I reproduce, it’s no wonder Declan keeps the details of who he is to himself.
Fintan and Father have each other to keep them set in their ways. “Gross. The fact that every guy I go out with knows that is the worst. This is so forced. There’s a reason why pandas don’t mate in captivity, you know.”
“It’s hardly prison. You’re going on a date in my restaurant. Best seat in the house. This guy is pre-med, Colette. He could deliver your baby.”
I turn on the speaker function of my phone so I can throw it onto my bed. I gather my brunette curls up and twist them into a bun. “I’m not having a baby with this guy! I’ve never even met him. I’ve got a business to run, Fintan. The salon only just opened a branch stateside last week. I don’t have time to put a pin in that so I can crank out a kid for the sake of…” I swallow the end of my sentence, because I know it’s going nowhere productive.
Fintan’s voice is heavy with disappointment. “For the sake of continuing our bloodline? For the sake of keeping the Deadblood genes going? You’re it, you realize. You’re the last Deadblood in existence. If you die, there’s no weapon that can keep the vampires from rising up and taking over.”
I roll my eyes as I slide the dress over my head. “That would be more effective if it wasn’t the five millionth time I’ve been given that speech. The vampires aren’t rising up. They’re paying taxes. They’re going to school. They’re punching time clocks. It’s not even legal to drink from anyone other than willing donors, animals or blood banks. Maybe it’s best we don’t live our lives with the sole focus of making sure we can exterminate an entire race just because they might be dangerous one day.”
Fintan pauses long enough that I know he is gearing up for a lecture. “I sincerely hope you’re joking.”
My nose raises indignantly. “I sincerely hope the truce means anything to you, because that is the world we are living in—one where we don’t have to worry about how to orchestrate the mass extermination of a species.”
“You are so naïve.”
My born and bred family temper boils as I wrestle with my dress, shifting it left and right until it is mostly in place. “And you are jaded, so you expect the rest of the world should be, as well. That’s not me. I refuse to accept that your worldview is the one I should have to abide by.”
Fintan pauses, so I know he’s finishing getting ready in his house, too. “Well, lucky for the world, Dad calls the shots, not you. If I could procreate with someone and take one for the team, I wouldn’t hesitate. But you know the venomous gene is only passed down through the women in the bloodline.”
I grimace at his gall as I pick up the clothes I wore to work today and throw them in the hamper that sits on the floor of my closet. Tripping is a real hazard for me, so my floors are always spotlessly cleared of clutter. In my bedroom, there is only a bed and a dresser—no chairs, desk or nightstand. If my condition acts up, I have to make sure I don’t fall and hurt myself on any unnecessary furniture.
I make a face at Fintan, even though he can’t see it. “You offer
ing to knock someone up is obnoxious. It’s hardly the same effort involved if you’re a man. And even if I did get pregnant, there’s no guarantee it would be a girl. If my baby oven is anything like Mom’s, I’ll crank out two boys to one girl.”
“All the more reason for you to get started early.”
My upper lip curls. “You know, other siblings talk about their day or fun things they’re interested in.”
“Fine, Coco. How was your day?”
I scowl at the phone. “Shut up.”
Fintan chuckles. “Actually, other siblings don’t talk as often as we do.”
“Maybe we should be more like them, then.”
“You’re being petulant.”
“You’re being controlling. This whole ordeal is controlling. I’ve had a long day, Fintan, which you didn’t even care to ask about. I’m opening a new location, you realize. I just moved back to Mayfield and every single day, multiple reporters call me or show up at the salon. I have my pleasant face on all the time, and it’s exhausting. I don’t need you putting pressure on me and my uterus.”
Fintan doesn’t realize that I will never have children. I won’t risk the chance that I could have a girl and perpetuate this curse on humanity.
No matter how hard Fintan pushes, I made myself a promise long ago that the venomous Deadblood gene would die with me. The world can’t handle a weapon this powerful. They’ve proved that well enough.
Fintan’s voice is even and adult-like. “It was part of the agreement. You move back to Mayfield, and you agree to try to find a husband so the family line can continue on.”
I visualize how good it would feel to shove Fintan. “I hope your date is just as delightful in person as she was in her bio. She collects Pokémon cards, has a lazy eye and voted for the guy I liked in the last election, not the crook you liked. She also knits hats for her seven cats, who are named after the seven dwarves. Match made in Heaven.”
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