by Chloe Adler
She touches my shoulder, bringing me back, and then pulls me in for a hug. “Absolutely.”
When I pull away there are actual tears in her eyes, which pings me right to my core. Her reaction adds to the guilt surging through me for being distracted by Mr. Sex Hair. She doesn’t have to say a word; her pride pierces me and I can’t help standing up a little straighter. I toss my head to dislodge his image and refocus.
Chrys is my oldest sister and she’s been through so much. She spent the largest portion of her life drifting through Mom’s shadow. Until she met her honey—who steps up and throws an arm around her shoulders.
Carter grins. “Fantastic job, Iphi.”
“Thank you, and thank you both for coming. I know this wasn’t easy for you.”
And with that, my sister’s brown eyes dart around the pier, searching the crowd still milling around the big top.
I place a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. Mom’s not here.”
Carter pulls her in tighter, tucking her against his chest. “We almost didn’t come, just in case. But I told Chrys that Aurelia has yet to show up to a performance. And she said—“
“—with my luck, she’ll pick tonight,” Chrys finishes. “But, it’s more important to support you on opening night than to fear running into the big bad witch of the Edge.”
She tosses her chestnut-brown hair. Tonight she’s wearing it styled in soft waves that cascade to her shoulders. I know I wasn’t the only one silently rejoicing when she stopped wearing it up in a severe ponytail. Though she’d probably deck me if I told her the way she tosses it over her shoulder is pure Aurelia.
Throwing my arms around my sister and her beau, I hug both of them tightly. I’m pretty much the sole hugger in our non-touchy-feely family, but I know that everyone secretly likes it. The advantages of my gift. Both of them hug me back, Chrys a little more stiffly than Carter. But she’s trying and that’s what counts.
“Is Sadie here?” I say into her soft hair, releasing my hold on them.
Chrys leans away. “She and Ryder sat with us. The rest of the gang, too. Everyone loved it. You especially.”
“Where are they?” I crane my neck around the crowd, searching for Sadie’s siren-red hair.
“No one but us wanted to stick around in case Mom made an appearance.”
That says a lot for Chrys, as she’s the one most on the outs with Aurelia. I beam at her, my already soft heart oozing into jelly. Perhaps it’s for the best that Mother didn’t show up-again. “Thank you for staying.”
She reddens prettily, smiling so big her teeth show. “You’re my little sister and I’m so proud of you.”
Carter waves his brother and the other men over. Rhys looks almost too good in his faded jeans and stylish button-down. Suddenly happy I remembered to grab the cape, I pull it tightly around me. Those three impossibly good-looking men flank him.
Rhys pulls his brother in for an embrace. Another hugger? Then he turns to Chrys and offers her a deep smile, clutching her hand between two of his. “So nice to see you again, Chrys.”
She averts her eyes, which does nothing to mask her smiling blush.
Rhys turns to me, his dark eyes boring into mine. I could lose myself in that gaze. “You were amazing.”
“Thank you.” I smile up at him.
Someone clears his throat and Rhys looks away. “Let me introduce you to my cousins.” His voice is a deep, penetrating rumble.
I take in the other men. So they’re related to Rhys; now their collective hotness makes sense. Each of the three are gorgeous, clearly related, and yet distinctive. Mr. Sex Hair’s shoulder-length blond mane falls across his face, hiding one pale-blue eye. Even halved, the effect of his gaze is electrifying. Up pop those damn goose bumps again.
I’m almost grateful when the tallest moves toward me first, breaking my gaze with Mr. Sex Hair. I look up . . . and up. He’s at least six foot three. He grasps my hand and kisses the top. He’s not a beanpole either. The man is built like a pro wrestler. His arms are as big as my thighs. To top off the intimidation factor, he’s completely bald, which totally works on him. “I’m Thorn Vidal, and these are my brothers,” he booms. He motions to the two remaining men at his side. My admirer from afar steps forward.
“Caspian.” He tucks his windswept blond hair behind his ears. Despite the blazing eye contact, everything about this one screams safe. Gentle, perceptive. Someone who looks at the world and life with wonderment. Caspian’s lips turn up and he offers me the smallest of bows.
The last man steps forward and offers me his hand. “Nice to finally meet you, Iphigenia. I’m Dominic.” Dominic clutches my hand for a beat. His sea-green eyes swirl with calculation under dark-blond brows and close-cropped hair. I suppress an urge to squirm. It’s as though he’s trying to see inside my head, to pick out my inner thoughts. If he likes what he’s finding, I can’t tell. Dominic’s features, too, fall between those of his brothers.
The three of them possess such an intensity that I momentarily lose my words.
“That was an amazing performance,” Caspian says into the quiet. His blue eyes sparkle like sunlight on a calm sea after a hurricane. “I hope you don’t mind that I took some photographs.” He produces a rather impressive-looking digital camera, then steps to my side to show me the back screen. I gasp at the photos he’s captured of me—in midair.
“Are you a professional photographer?”
His head bows, eyes not meeting mine, as he fiddles with some camera buttons. “Amateur.”
I place a hand on his arm. “Well I’m no expert, but these look professional to me. I know Serlon would love to see them if you’re looking to sell any.”
His head shakes rapidly. “Not these, but I’d be happy to take some others for him, no charge.”
I giggle. “You shouldn’t give your art away for free.”
“We’re all gainfully employed,” Thorn says. “Photography is Caspian’s hobby.”
“I see. I haven’t seen any of you here before.”
“We just moved to the Edge,” says Dominic.
“For?” I ask, blatantly probing.
“Boring work stuff,” he responds. “But we’d rather talk about you.”
“Me?” The hairs on the back of my neck prickle.
“What my brother means,” says Caspian, “is that we’re more interested in learning about you than we are in talking about ourselves.”
“Why?”
Caspian’s eyes widen. “Because you’re a beautiful, talented, enigmatic woman.”
My admirer indeed, and not the least bit shy about showing it. “So are lots of other girls in the circus.” I wave my hand toward other performers milling about and talking to the crowd.
His eyes soften and he smiles. “Of course. We’ll take our leave now.”
But those eyes remain on me.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Holt,” Thorn says. “We thoroughly enjoyed your performance.” He takes my hand and kisses the top of it once again.
Each brother gives me a slight nod before they turn to go.
“Caspian,” I call, and he turns back, a hopeful look in his eyes. “I’d love to see all of the photos you took, maybe get a few copies?”
He fishes in his pocket, then hands me a card with a little flourish. “Call, email, or text me, milady.” With a formal bow, he joins his brothers.
“What the heck was that?” I ask Rhys, who still stands next to me.
He grins. “Admirers. Can you blame them?”
I choose to ignore his comment. “Where’s Chrys?”
“She and Carter went home. They asked me to give you this.” He leans in and kisses my cheek.
I jump back and turn beet red.
An hour after Rhys and his hot cousins depart, I’ve helped several of the girls remove their makeup and put their costumes in the laundry. I’ve also helped Serlon clean up the tent, picking up trash the crowd left behind and sorting it for recyclables. He’s been so g
ood to me, it’s the least I can do. We have a crew that takes care of everything major but there’s always more than enough work to go around.
One of the girls offers me a ride but the weather is so lovely that I want to walk. Home isn’t too far from the boardwalk, and part of the walk is along Discovery Highway, the road that runs from one end of the Edge to the other. The water flanks it, and this is my favorite time to walk it, when I don’t have to share it with crowds and traffic. The waves undulate in the moonlight. The splashing of the water kissing the rocky edge below drifts up to the road, and a barn owl hooting in the night adds to the soothing rhythm.
I walk along the highway until the turn-off, Crescent Street, to our cul-de-sac. But I’m not alone tonight. Someone is . . . moaning?
The sound carries faintly on the wind. I spin around. There’s nothing other than swaying palm trees and empty yards. But the sounds are a little louder now and . . . wetter? I follow the noises to a bungalow down the street from us. There, in a darkened doorway, two figures are locked in an embrace. I almost look away again—no need to intrude on their intimacy—but something feels off. That hand, it’s not gripping the other in ecstasy. It’s flat, pushing. Straining. And weakening.
Stepping closer, I pull my ‘vampire special’ spray out which works on humans, too. Pepper spray infused with silver to keep them both at bay. Clutching it in one hand, I hold my keychain alarm in the other.
The closer I get, the louder my heart beats in my chest until I know that at least one of them can hear it, too. The creature looks up, dropping his prey, fangs wet with fresh blood. His eyes are wild and bloodshot, his hair disheveled, his face massively scarred. Though I gasp, he makes no move toward me. His victim slips to the ground, limp, curled up in a ball, and moaning.
I point the spray right at his face. “Get away from her!”
The remorseful look in those haunted eyes says it all but my entire body goes rigid with his fear. His heart races at a speed that no vampire’s should, mixed with overwhelming grief. His sadness is so palpable that tears spill down my cheeks. Before he vanishes, I pick up one distinct thought: It’s you. Then in a flash, he’s gone.
What the hell?
I dart forward and drop to my knees, gathering the woman in my arms, petting her hair. “It’s going to be okay. You’re okay.”
“What happened?” She looks up at me.
“Did you know the vampire who was drinking from you?”
“What vampire?”
Okay, that’s weird. Vampires live openly in the human world, have for centuries, with willing citizens lining up to offer their veins. Sure, I’ve heard the tales from long ago, when they fed on unwilling victims. And though stories of rogue or renegade vampires make the paper even now, they’re rare—and they’re never in Distant Edge.
The woman struggles to her feet, my arm around her shoulder keeping her steady. She shakes her head, looking around, and then back at me.
“Who are you?”
“I’m a neighbor. My name is Iphigenia Holt.”
The woman pulls away but she’s too wobbly to stand on her own. I grab her waist to keep her upright but she pushes me away and smacks into the doorjamb behind her.
“Evil witch, I know your kind,” she snarls. “What did you do to me?”
“Nothing.” I hold my hands up. “I was walking home and saw the attack, so I chased the vampire away.”
She snorts. “Liar. You little liar. Your whole family is evil. Get away from me!”
“I’m not leaving until you’re safely inside.”
Never taking her eyes off me, the woman digs into the purse hanging on her shoulder and produces a keychain. “I’m reporting you to the police,” she says, her voice groggy. “Not that they’ll do anything. They’re all in your back pocket, aren’t they?”
I wish I could say I’m surprised, but people hate what they fear and don’t understand. Others are envious of our powers to the point of anger. But I’m trying to help her and I’m obviously no threat. A long sigh escapes before I can hold it back. “I understand your anger but I’ve only shown you kindness. And why live in the Edge if you hate Signum so much?”
“You know why, girl.” Her voice is laced with venom.
I step back and watch as she opens her front door and disappears inside. I count the click of seven locks—the number humans have been told will keep out witches. Still, I wait a few more moments, until lights blaze on in her front room.
Why does she hate me and my family so much? Aurelia never goes out of her way to endear herself to humans, but other than our old neighbor, I don’t remember her tormenting anyone in the neighborhood.
This woman’s right, though. I do know why she’s here, and so many of the others as well. Only two kinds of humans live in the Edge: the ones who are enamored of Signum and want to live among us, and the ones who have been paid to move here. Several years after out town was founded, there were only a handful of human families. When the Council was formed, they levied a tax to gather funds to incentivize more humans to move here. The offer was hard to beat. If they moved here, their moving expenses were paid for, they got a free house, and they were given a job. So many humans wanted to move that a lottery had to be instated.
Now, this woman, like so many others, has found herself stuck here without the resources to leave. If any of the winners want to move out, they can, but they can’t sell their house—because the city owns it.
I clutch my silver pepper spray can so hard the nozzle leaves an imprint in my hand, but then I remember my amulet. It’s a silver-filigreed teardrop topped with a pentacle, and it packs quite a magical punch, thanks to my powerful mother. She made each of her daughters one for protection—nothing on this street can touch me while I wear it, even though I’m alone. Nevertheless, the entire walk home, I am vigilant for danger.
Logically, I know I should call the police and report the incident but after spending time in the creature’s head, engulfed in his misery, I hesitate. Confusion settles over me. If I turn him in, they’ll lock him up forever. Maybe I can help him. I should at least try. Talking to my vampire friend Burgundy about it first seems like the sensible next step.
I briefly consider calling Mother and asking her to meet me, but she would overreact and lock me in my room until the rogue vamp was caught. And who knows when that will be.
By the time I’m standing on my own front steps, I’m shaking. I take deep breaths to steady myself. I cannot let Aurelia see me this way.
The door flies open and there she stands, her hands planted on her hips. “Where have you been?”
“I’m sorry, Mom. I stayed after to help some of the girls.”
“You texted me an hour ago, saying you were on your way home.”
“I got waylaid. A neighbor down the street needed help.”
Her eyes narrow. “What neighbor and what kind of help? Are you starting to lie to me like your sisters?”
I shake my head. “No, and I don’t want to talk about it.” I push past her and go to my room. She starts to follow, but ever the buffer, Alistair stops her.
Wishing I could lock my door, I sit down on my bed and pull out my iPad, searching the local news sites for any stories about a rogue vampire. There’s nothing I can find, but if that woman’s memory loss is any indication, it doesn’t mean he hasn’t struck before. And what happens next time? What if he can’t stop himself and he accidentally kills someone? Or worse?
Chapter Five
Iphigenia
A little before noon the next day, I slip down to the floor at the base of the front door and bury my face in Armageddon’s soft fur. He purrs and butts me with his head, emitting soft mewls that he reserves for no one else.
“Shhh, big guy,” I whisper and he immediately stops. “I’ll be back soon.” He pushes against my arm, rubbing his face over me, but steps back when I rise to let myself out.
Like so many animals I’ve met, Army would follow me to the ends of the earth. “B
east whisperer” people sometimes call me behind my back. Not very original, if you ask me.
I take a different route through our neighborhood to reach the highway. I do not want to run into Ms. Angry Pants Human this morning. The breeze off the ocean whistles through the trees. The branches of the cypress trees growing along the water’s edge stretch toward the bay like an aerialist’s fingertips reaching for her ribbon. It’s easy to block out the sounds of traffic and focus instead on the hypnotic rhythm of the waves.
Once I reach the boardwalk, I spot Rex before I spot Burgundy. I bound toward the Rottweiler, throwing my arms around him, and burying my face in his short fur. The beast licks my face.
Burgundy laughs. “Sometimes I thinks he likes you better than me.”
“Not a chance.” I stand up and take a seat next to him. “You’re his mama. I’m just an auntie.”
Already piled on the table is a plate of half-eaten bacon, bread, and coffee. One of Burgundy’s greatest joys is eating human food, and she has the curves to prove it. The vampire describes herself as Rubenesque or full-figured, but I have always called her beautiful.
I wait until after ordering myself breakfast and getting coffee to tell her about the vampire attack the night before. The entire time I’m speaking, her expression morphs from incredulous to pissed to worried. “Have you ever heard of anything like that?” I finish.
She bites her plump lower lip, sawing it between her teeth, and lets out a long breath. “I’ve heard tales, rumors really, but if what you saw happens on a regular basis and it’s not witnessed, it’s no surprise that it goes under the radar.”
“Do you possess this kind of ability?” I ask point-blank.
She looks away and then grabs a piece of bread, slathering it with butter. After she takes a bite and chews it for a moment, she nods.
