The Vampire's City

by Mary E. Twomey

  Orlando steels his reaction, scowling down at me and puffing out his chest to let his bulk do the heavy lifting of intimidating me. “It’s part of the gig, Coco. I’m sure you know that. Rome doesn’t date anyone without me vetting them first. If you two are going to pursue this terrible idea, I’m not going to stop you. But I am going to make sure you’re not seeing someone else, and that you’re not involved in anything that could hurt him.”

  I gape up at Orlando, my indignation fading in a breath. “You love him. That’s why you’re stalking me? You want to make sure Rome is okay?”

  Orlando rolls his eyes at my casual use of the word “love.” “Of course. What other reason could there be? I certainly didn’t waste fifteen dollars of my own money to sit through that stupid movie for my benefit.”

  I clutch my pearls, scandalized. “Just when I was starting to like you. That was the greatest piece of cinema ever made!”

  Orlando is not convinced. “Whatever. Are we done here?”

  “Almost.”

  Before he can brace himself, I throw my arms around Orlando, hugging him tight. His eyes bug, and he looks around wildly to make sure no one sees him being smothered with affection.

  I don’t care that he is the worst hugger in the world. I was always the only person who cuddled up to him, so I know he’s out of practice. “I’ve missed you, Orlando. You’re my big sweetie pie.” Then I lean up and peck his cheek before releasing him. “If you need to keep tabs on me to make sure I’m not going to hurt Rome, I get that. Do you want my schedule for tomorrow?”

  Orlando scrubs the part of his cheek that I kissed. “That’s not how this works.”

  I boop his nose. “Yes, it is, because I say so. I’ll be at my house tonight, and then at work in the morning until around seven. I’m not sure what my plans are for tomorrow. My father called, insisting we have a family dinner at some point. I swear, that’s not a lie.” My mouth pulls to the side. “You can’t follow me there, because vampires aren’t allowed to cross territory lines into the East End. Do you want me to call you when I get there?”

  Orlando runs his palm over his face. “You are the worst.”

  I grin up at him, and then loop my arm through his like we’re old friends (which we technically are). “When I’m at work, there’s a coffee shop across the street. If you’re camping out there to watch me, can you pick me up a decaf cinnamon vanilla latte? They are the absolute best.”

  Orlando shakes his head at me. “You have no sense of danger, do you. I’m the bad guy. You’re the damsel.”

  I can’t help my chuckle. “Are you sure? I thought I was the vixen, and you were the ballerina.” I blow him a kiss. “But you’ll always be my big sweetie pie. That is nonnegotiable.”

  “I always hated when you called me that.” Orlando stares up at the ceiling as if praying for help from above. “Can this be over?”

  “Oo! Do you want to go see Afterbirth Quake when it comes out next month? It looks so good. You can sit with Declan and me next time, instead of lurking alone in the back.”

  “I’m not sitting in a theater next to you.”

  I drop his arm and turn to face him, completely serious. “Why not? We were friends. Aren’t we still?”

  Orlando lowers his chin, refusing to meet my innocent gaze. “You’re making this harder than it has to be.”

  I clasp my hands in front of me. “Should I be making it easier for you to not trust me?”

  When he doesn’t answer, my heart goes out to him.

  I can feel the guilt radiating off his shoulders, so I reach out and thumb at his cheek, noting the prickle that might never go away. “It’s okay, Orlando. Do what you need to do. I appreciate you caring if I’m good to Rome. It’s a solid thing you’re doing, looking out for him. He’s a good man, and he needs someone like you looking over his shoulder to make sure no one stabs him in the back. I think if the two of us keep looking out for him, he might have a fighting chance to clear a path, so he can accomplish all the good he wants to for this city.”

  Orlando draws in a shaky breath. I know I’ve disarmed him. “Alright, Coco-bean. Run along.” He motions toward the crowd. “Your brother is looking for you.”

  I reach out and squeeze Orlando’s hand, my heart warming at his use of one of my many childhood nicknames. “It’s going to be okay, Orlando.”

  He meets my eyes with a cloud of doubt. “You know that’s not true. The two of you are doing more than playing with fire. You’re on the cusp of starting a war. Pretend all you want, but that’s exactly what’s going to happen if your family finds out.”

  I want to laugh off Orlando’s assessment, but he’s spot on. “If I could fall for any other man, I would. But Rome is it for me.”

  It’s not until the words spill out of me that I realize they’ve been true for a while. I’m not sure if I am more relieved or scared, now that my exposed heart has hit the air.

  Orlando bobs his head. “Be careful, alright?”

  “Be safe,” I echo, hoping that someday Orlando truly does have a better life than spending his evenings stalking me in his spare time.

  I flit back into the crowd and flag down my brother, all the while feeling Orlando’s eyes on me as we walk to the parking lot.

  24

  Bad Brother

  Colette

  Being that Declan is my very best friend and my favorite brother, when he tells me he likes the shampoo from my salon, I see no reason not to make our stop my salon on the way home to gift him a bottle.

  “It’s just a better product,” I tell him, only sort of bragging. “I know you think I’m saying that because I make it myself, but it’s true. No fillers, no dyes, no sodium laurel phosphate.”

  Declan rolls his eyes as he turns onto the Midtown street where my business is located. “Thank God. I mean, that’s the first thing I look at when I’m searching for shampoo.”

  I bristle. “It’s the first thing you should be looking at. You could clean a car with that garbage. No, no. We have beautiful Kennedy curls. Best keep them from being polluted with sub-par ingredients.”

  He chuckles at me and runs his fingers through his shorter hair, pretending to be a supermodel. “Only the best for the best of the Kennedys.”

  I bump his fist with mine. “Hear, hear.”

  Declan frowns as he pulls into my parking lot, which, thanks to Rome, has flood lights installed. “Um, is there any reason why a Valentino would be here when your salon is closed?” He points to a car at the far end of the lot, which is the furthest point from the light. The car is only halfway shaded by the night, but I can see enough to recognize the black sedan with tinted windows.

  I start to sweat, wondering why Rome would be here when I am not. “Let’s not jump to conclusions,” I warn my brother as he takes his gun from his hip holster. Anxiety spikes when I grasp at reasons why Rome might be here that would make sense to my brother.

  I hate that my brother carries. I hate that I carry. I don’t want to be in this much danger all the time. I don’t want to expect that the violence of the past is always going to be coming for me.

  “Stay here. I’ll see what’s going on.”

  It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “As if I’d let you go in alone.”

  Declan sighs but doesn’t argue with me more than that as he gets out of the car.

  I reach down into my purse and pull out my pistol.

  I also grab my phone and call Orlando.

  Orlando’s voice is gruff when he answers, but I cut to the purpose of my call to make the exchange short and semi-sweet. “Boy, could I use a stalker right about now. Is Rome inside my salon?”

  “What? No. Why?”

  “Because his car is in my parking lot afterhours and no one’s in it. I’m pretty sure he broke into my salon.” The night feels ominous now.

  Orlando groans. “Nico borrowed Rome’s car. Stay where you are. I’ll handle it.”

  “I don’t exactly have a choice. I’m with Declan. Get over h
ere and handle your family.”

  “On it. Keep me in your pocket.”

  I mute Orlando’s voice and drop my phone into the pocket of my pink pencil skirt as I grip my gun. I don’t have my safety off. I have no intention of shooting a Valentino tonight. “Safety on,” I chide Declan. “We are not shooting family.”

  Because that is exactly what the Valentinos used to be to us.

  Declan’s mouth tightens, but he complies, letting me call the shots. We stalk to the salon, entering through the backdoor.

  A crash coming from the main waiting area tells me this is not a friendly visit from Rome, but possibly another hazing from Nico.

  I can’t believe I suspected it was Rome. Even with the evidence of his car in my lot, I should have had more faith in us.

  What could Nico possibly be doing here? Is he ransacking my business again?

  When Declan and I move further into the salon, I see a figure that is shorter than Rome, but any other dissimilarities are harder to pick out.

  I harrumph, letting go of any attempts at sneaking when I flip on the lights. “Are you kidding me with this, Nico?”

  Caught mid-vandalism, Nico freezes, but only for the briefest of moments. Then he pulls out his gun, aiming it directly at my head. “You shouldn’t be here! All of this! You’re done, do you hear me? Midtown doesn’t need your business. We don’t want your high and mighty help when nearly every other business in Midtown has signs up that read Humans Only.”

  Declan cocks his gun, which means the safety on his weapon is a thing of the past.

  “No, Declan!” I shout, though I should be yelling at Nico.

  I refuse to plead for my life. I made a promise to myself after my second abduction that I would never again beg for my life to be spared. I’ll either die or I’ll live. My words don’t matter to a psychopath because we don’t speak the same language. I can try reason. I can try logic. But I will never again beg.

  Declan’s forearms are taut, his words coming out of him in a growl. “Put the gun down, Nico. You take up your rage with the sheriff. This isn’t how things are done.”

  I glance around at my business, grateful that we caught Nico before he did more than knock over my reception area. Money is spilled out on the floor and the monitor is most likely broken, but that’s the worst of it.

  Nico doesn’t comply, keeping his aim trained on my face, which fights to compose itself. “This is how this is going to go. I’ll leave now and no one will have to get hurt if you agree to close down this business and go. Not just go back to the East End, but leave Mayfield entirely. Move overseas again. Go back to Lonmure. That country loved having you. We’re done with the chaos you bring.”

  My heart breaks right in front of him. “Why do you hate me?” I should be negotiating some sort of peace, but I am too sad to try.

  Nico’s rage comes out at a shout. “You killed my mother and my father!”

  I fight to keep my voice level. “My blood killed them, yes. You hate my blood.” I raise my hands in surrender. “So do I, so we’re the same.”

  Nico’s fist shakes. “We are nothing like the same! Do you hear me? We couldn’t be more different. You walk around and people talk about your shoes, your hair and your bravery. I walk around and people gather their children away from me. You didn’t ask to be born this way? Well, I didn’t ask to be born this way!” He motions around my salon with his free hand. “Don’t you see that you’re stirring the pot? You’re pretending change is possible, but look at nearly every other business in Midtown. They still have signs that say Humans Only. Your ideals mean nothing!”

  I hate that he is right. The promise I made to myself that I wrote on a slip of paper burns against my breast.

  Peace is Possible.

  What was I thinking?

  I move my hand over my heart. “I want things to change. I want the entire world to be our family vacations. Don’t you see that? Can’t you picture it?”

  “No,” Nico barks, his voice breaking. “We are different. Opening up a business and pretending the world is fixed is ignorant at best.”

  Declan inches toward me, his gun still aimed at Nico. “She isn’t pretending anything, Nico. She’s trying. She’s standing up and marching to her own drum because the world needs a new song. Change isn’t going to happen overnight. It may not happen in our lifetimes. But that doesn’t mean she shouldn’t try.”

  It’s the loudest seal of approval anyone in my family has ever given me.

  Nico snarls at Declan. “You’re a medic who only treats humans. Fintan’s restaurant is located in the East End, where vampires aren’t allowed. This salon is a joke.”

  Declan straightens. “I’m a medic who has no training in treating vampires. You want to educate me, Nico? Be my guest. Put down the gun and teach me how to treat a vampire. I’ll learn.”

  Nico scoffs. “Pass the blame to the establishment. How very human of you.”

  Declan’s elbow touches mine. “You’ve got a problem with Fintan? Then wave a gun in his face. Don’t pick on the only one of us who is taking a stand and doing the right thing. Colette isn’t passing the blame. She’s doing what she can. She’s trying, Nico. You’re destroying the only person who’s making an effort.”

  Nico doesn’t lower his gun. “I’ve got enough reasons to hate the person who got my parents killed. But I’m not pulling this trigger for them. I’m shooting because your dad left us with nothing. Rome wants this truce? Fine. I want a war. I want to settle the score and take from the sheriff the one person he loves. He did nothing when my mother was taken out. Nothing!”

  At this, I laugh. Maybe I’m hysterical. Maybe I have finally snapped. “That’s what this is? You want to ruin my business because you think my father cares about me? You want to put a bullet in my head because you think that will put a dent in the sheriff’s stony heart?” I shake my head at my Nino-bear. “Oh, Nico. I thought you didn’t believe in fairy tales.” I spread my arms out to the sides, making myself a wider target. “Fire away, then. You’ll see that the sheriff only cares about himself. I saw my father exactly zero times in the decade I lived overseas. He doesn’t care about me in the least, and I think we both prefer it that way. You’re right; he didn’t protect all the citizens of Mayfield. The sheriff should have been serving the vampires, but he failed you.” My laugh burbles out of me again, sounding just as unhinged as I feel. “Well, I’ve got news for you: he failed me, too.”

  Nico’s lips purse. He looks confused at my insanity, though I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to crack. He holds his gun steady, still aimed at my face. His eyes narrow as his mouth twists in confusion. “No, you’re daddy’s little girl. It would break him if he lost you.”

  “You want to know where my father was on my sixteenth birthday?”

  Declan grimaces, though his gun is still trained on Nico. “Don’t do this, Coco. It’s in the past. Don’t dig it all up for Nico.”

  I laugh so hard that I bend at the waist, my hands on my knees. “I don’t know! I don’t know where he was! Isn’t that funny?”

  Nico studies my hysteria but doesn’t say anything.

  “You want to know where he was on my seventeenth birthday?” I am laughing so hard, I’m crying.

  I’ve never cried about that.

  I guess I was waiting to be held at gunpoint for emotions to come about—however fractured.

  “I don’t know!” I answer my own question. “How about my eighteenth? I’ll give you one guess… Your guess is as good as mine, because I don’t know! How about my nineteenth birthday? I’ll save you the trouble. I don’t know where my father was!” I am laughing so hard, I’m wheezing as tears stream down my face.

  The second Nino-bear lowers his weapon, Declan gathers me into his arms, shoving his gun back in its holster. “Enough. Dad doesn’t matter. Who called you on your birthday every year? I did. You know why? Because you matter. We don’t care what he says, understood? Because we have each other.” He squeezes me
tighter. “He will never approve of anything we do. Even if we did everything by the book. It’s his way. So we listen to ourselves, okay? Tap into what is true, not what we wish was true.”

  I laugh while crying on my brother’s shoulder. Even as Orlando barrels in through the backdoor, we hold tight to each other.

  Orlando’s booming voice echoes through the salon, but I can’t focus on his words. He is handling Nico, and Declan is handling my madness, which hasn’t crested yet.

  Orlando speaks with barely controlled rage to Declan over my shoulder while I laugh and cry with no end in sight.

  My feelings don’t matter about this entire topic, so I try my best never to let them near my psyche. I want to push out anything that might make me vulnerable, that might break me beyond what I can put back together myself.

  So in that case, yes, I guess I am daddy’s little girl.

  25

  Coming and Going

  Colette

  After sleeping at Declan’s last night, I have a slightly healthier perspective on my morning. Though the sun isn’t up yet, I am, and I’m ready to go fix my salon.

  I’m hoping I won’t find more damage than the knocked over reception station and cracked monitor, but you never know.

  When I pull into the parking lot, Rome’s car is still in the lot. I summon all my bravery, in case Nico is still here. But when I walk inside, I am grateful to find Rome by himself.

  He is clad in his usual black slacks and fitted white dress shirt, complete with silver belt buckle and nice shoes. His dark, wavy hair is perfection, but for a little ruffling in the back that tells me he hasn’t been to bed yet.

  His expression when he stares at me is unreadable. He doesn’t look angry, sad or elated, but rather a mixture of all those things. “Colette.”

  “Aren’t you the speedy cleaner. I came in early to get a jump on things, but I see you beat me to it.” I glance at the reception station, noting that it looks tidier than it did earlier this week. “You got a new monitor, too. Thank you.”