by Ranae Glass
Sprinkling a little pepper on my She-crab soup, I took a bite while I thought about it. I made a noise of delight as my eyes widened. The soup was amazing. Rich and creamy, not overly fishy as it could sometimes be, but just perfect. Xavier eyed me, his expression amused. I wiped my mouth and tried to gather my thoughts.
What would I think in that situation?
“I’d probably assume you were lying and that you’d changed the girl and killed her father to keep him quiet,” I answered before having another spoonful. “I get your point. You want me to go because if I think she can be trusted, you want me to explain things and bring her back with me. Where does she live anyway?”
“Hixon, Tennessee. A small town about an hour and a half past Atlanta.”
I nodded. “Fine. But I’m doubling my normal fee and I’m charging mileage. And I want Shane to go with me.”
For the first time all night, he shifted in his chair. It was a very human movement, one that made him look uncomfortable and made my suspicious flag shoot up. “Shane is unavailable. He’s working on something for the Conclave.”
“Something more important than this?” I asked, watching him carefully to see how he would react.
He didn’t. Whatever ease he’d showed earlier was gone in the blink of an eye. Then I realized he wasn’t staring at me, he was staring behind me. I turned to see who he was looking at, and the spoon fell out of my fingers into the bowl with a splash and a clatter.
It was Xavier, only not. The man headed for our table was a few inches shorter than Xavier was, and he had a deep tan that made his green eyes shine. Xavier’s green eyes. My mind raced. A brother? A son? My throat constricted. No, he’d confided in me once that his great regret was never having a family of his own. Then I remembered the photo I’d seen on his desk. It must be…
“Uncle, what a surprise. And who is your lovely friend?” he asked, turning those green eyes on me. It was eerie, like seeing what Xavier might look like, if he were a few years younger… and human.
“I’m Isabel Stone. It’s nice to meet you.” I shook his hand.
“Devon Savage. I’m Xavier’s great—”
I cut him off. “Yes, Xavier’s mentioned you.”
“Has he now?” He turned back to Xavier.
Xavier continued to stare at Devon, his expression unfriendly. I was familiar with the glare. My own mother had given it to me whenever I said or did something she thought was inappropriate. Come to think of it, I still got that look all the time.
“Yes, it must be such a surprise to run into me in my own club on a night when you already knew I’d be here,” he said without inflection.
Devon laughed. “True. I suppose the surprise is Isabel. Tell me, Isabel, are you here hoping for a little gothic romance? Maybe hanging on the arm of the most powerful vampire in the state is a turn on for you, but let me give you a friendly piece of advice. To him,” he pointed at his uncle, “you are just another meal. It’s not all drama and sparkles with real vampires. Mostly, they just kill you. So why don’t you do yourself a favor and head home before you end up on a milk carton?”
I’d had the Taser in my hand since the first words left his mouth. It was discreet, under the table, and aimed at his tender bits.
He was staring down at me like he was a lion, and I was a helpless gazelle.
Poor little thing.
I smiled, unable to help myself. Xavier sighed and took another drink of wine, setting the empty glass down hard on the table.
“Isabel, I’m sure you are already pointing a gun or some such thing at my idiot nephew, but I’d be very grateful if you could refrain from shooting him in my club. I just had the new carpet put in.”
Devon looked to Xavier, who waved his hand at me. When Devon looked back at me, I had the Taser above the table, still pointed at him.
“I wouldn’t shoot up your new club, Xavier. So I brought this instead. But I have to admit, if it’s the carpet you’re worried about, I probably shouldn’t use it. This much electricity tends to make people wet themselves,” I said, still smiling.
Now Devon’s expression had gone from smug to genuinely nervous.
Good. He caught on fast.
“Who are you?” he asked, looking slightly confused.
His words saidwhobut his tone impliedwhat. I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that.
“Devon, this is Isabel, the proprietor of Stone Private Investigations, and you have just very rudely interrupted a business meeting.”
“I need to speak to my uncle,” he stammered, his eyes wide.
I sighed. I didn’t even get to finish my soup. Maybe Xavier would send a batch of it to the office in lieu of flowers next time. Hell, he’d probably send a whole keg of it if I asked.
“You can have my chair. I should be getting back anyway,” I said, setting my napkin on the table.
“No, Isabel, please stay. I am truly enjoying your company. Devon,” Xavier shot him an unfriendly look, “can speak with me later.”
I shrugged. “It’s family stuff. I don’t want to get in the middle.”
Xavier stood up. “You haven’t even finished your meal. Please, stay. I’ll walk Devon to the door. Excuse me.”
Xavier walked away quickly, expecting Devon to follow. But before he did, he leaned over to me. “I’m so sorry about that. I just assumed…”
“That I was a hooker?”
“Something like that.” He smiled, looking too much like his uncle for comfort.
I frowned, lifting my foot off the ground and rolling my ankle. “It’s the shoes, isn’t it? Do I at least look like a high-class hooker?”
He smiled. “I was thinking a paid escort. From one of the nice, expensive places.”
And just like his uncle, Devon was as charming as a gypsy selling rainwater. I waved as I tucked the Taser back into my purse.
“Flatterer. You’re making me blush.”
His tone dropped. “Truly, I didn’t mean to offend you. I was just trying to—”
“Keep me from being eaten by your uncle? Hey, it’s the thought that counts.”
“You wouldn’t really have Tased me, would you?”
I leaned forward. “I still might. Now run along, Scooter. Xavier is waiting, and my soup is getting cold.”
His smile faltered for just a second, as if he was trying to decide if I was joking. Would I really have Tased him for being such a jerk? Probably not. Then again…
i
The rest of the evening was pleasant, although I could tell Xavier was distracted. I didn’t want to pry, so I just tried to relax. Dessert came in the form of a nine-layer chocolate cake drizzled with caramel and fresh fudge sauce. I had died and gone to Betty Crocker heaven. Xavier’s new singer was all he made her out to be and then some. She did a rendition ofFever that made the whole place erupt with applause. We didn’t dance again, which was lucky because after just a few bites of that cake, he would have had to roll me across the floor. Soon I was well fed, relaxed, and ready to fall asleep. And possibly just a little bit drunk.
“I’d take you home myself if you could wait just a few more hours,” Xavier offered, his eyes glinting playfully as he walked me through the club. I had tripped on the last step and only his quick hands prevented me from an embarrassing fall.
“Sorry. I need to get back before Shane calls in the National Guard,” I joked.
Xavier’s voice turned cold. “Shane would do no such thing. I will call him and tell him—”
“No, it’s fine really. He just worries about me, that’s all. Besides, all that wine made me a little sleepy. I really did have a nice time tonight,” I admitted, clutching my purse to my stomach.
“As did I. Are you sure you want to end the evening so soon?” he asked, stepping closer.
He was a breath away now, his arm over my head, pressing me between his body and the door. I shook my head, knowing that I had had too much to drink and needed to get out of there before I did something truly stupid.
/> “I’ll catch a cab. Call me tomorrow with the details on Melanie’s aunt.”
He nodded, leaning forward.
I tensed. He was so close. All I had to do was lean forward and close the distance between us. My head spun at the thought of kissing him, of his arms around my waist. I closed my eyes and…
Lost my balance, falling backward against the side door.
The door popped open. I sort of stumbled out into the white glow of the streetlight and waved awkwardly at Xavier, who was smirking at me, before walking down to the corner.
The line for the club hadn’t even dwindled. If anything, there were more people out front than there had been when I arrived. It was chaos. I walked around the corner, figuring I’d have better luck hailing a taxi away from the crowd.
That was when I heard it.
At first, I thought the sound was a wounded animal, a dog that’d been hit by a car, so I followed the noise into the alley behind the club.
As I got closer, I realized it wasn’t an animal at all. It was a groan. Following the sound behind the dumpster, I saw a man lying facedown on the pavement, his arm was twisted around his back at an odd angle.
“Hey! I need some help over here,” I yelled over to the crowd.
As gently as I could, I rolled him over. One eye was swollen completely shut and drying blood was covering nearly his whole face. His lips were split and puffy, a purple bruise forming on the side of his jaw. His nose was probably broken, judging from the amount of blood leaking out of it. He grunted in pain and I screamed again, but no one seemed to be able to hear me.
I looked down at the man. “I’m going to go for help. I’ll be right back.”
He groaned and grabbed me by the hand. Opening his one good, emerald-green eye, he whispered, “Don’t leave me.”
“Okay, Devon. Okay. I won’t leave.”
I dug into my purse and pulled out my cell phone, flipping it open with my chin as he held firmly to my hand, and dialed 911.
Before I’d even dialed the first number, three vampire bouncers from across the street were standing behind me, and Xavier was only a heartbeat behind them.
All hospitals were basically the same. The rooms were some shade of white, the tile some shade of tan, and even the sterile cleaning supply smell was universal. It was chilly, and doctors were slow. It was like the law of medicine, always the same grinding routine. Unless you were brought in by ambulance. Then you got to bypass the waiting room full of miserable people and the borderline rude triage nurses. Heck, they didn’t even ask for your insurance card.
I was waiting outside Devon’s room when Xavier arrived. The EMTs had been happy to let me, the human, ride with him, but the vampires were another story. Couldn’t blame them really, especially with all the blood. Sure, I knew Xavier wouldn’t have lost it and eaten the medics, but years of pop culture and cheesy movies had eroded people’s sense of trust on that front.
It was dawn. I could tell that much by the small patches of natural light beginning to peek through the glass emergency bay doors. It was a common misconception that vampires couldn’t walk around in the daylight. The truth was, thanks to their heightened senses, they were just more sensitive to sunlight than humans. Most vamps were fine with a heavy layer of sunblock and some shades. But the older a vamp got, the more powerful and therefore, the more sensitive, they became. Most really old vamps avoided daylight altogether, which was how the rumor got its legs. Lots of things people believed about vampires were just lore, but some were true. For example, a vampire was extremely vulnerable to fire. Something about their bodies made them ignite like a roman candle at the tiniest flame. Holy water was another one. No one was actually sure why, but holy water, communion wafers, and blessed objects were like acid to a vampire and unlike other weapons, it took a vampire a very long, painful space of time to heal
All those things aside, the leader of the Charleston Conclave, flanked by two surly-looking human bodyguards, walked into the St. Peter’s hospital like he owned it. Still wearing his dinner outfit, he had added a pair of dark sunglasses and a charcoal-grey pea coat. He didn’t bother to look at me. Instead, he turned to the nurses’ station. Slipping off his glasses in a smooth motion, he smiled his most charming, million-watt smile. It was another one of those popular myths that vampires had some kind of Jedi mind-control thing. Truth was that they just had a lot of practice convincing people to let them have their way. Charisma, as it turned out, was more deadly than fangs.
The poor young blonde nurse lapped it up like a cat with a bowl of cream, blushing and looking for whatever he wanted. Charming as Xavier could be, I knew manipulation when I saw it. I grew up with Lauren Stone, and my mother was the queen of using a combination of charm and strategy to get what she wanted.
The two chatted for a moment before she reluctantly pointed him my way. I turned away, trying to look like I hadn’t been watching their exchange. Xavier stepped past me, tucking his glasses in the front of his shirt.
“How long have they been in there?” he asked, looking into the small, glass window in the closed door.
“Not long,” I offered, gathering my purse from the floor beneath my chair and setting it on my lap. “Now that you’re here, I’m gonna get home. It’s late.”
That was a weak excuse, but an honest one. More to the point, hospitals scared the shit out of me. They had since I was seven years old and I’d stayed up all night watching a marathon of The Twilight Zone, the finale of which was a show about a society that forced everyone to have surgery to alter their appearance so that everyone looked the same. For some weird reason, the idea of it terrified me as a child. For years, I was afraid that I could walk into a hospital as me and walk out a whole different person.
Then one day, I did.
It was the day my father died.
So with that small, unreasonably frightened part of myself that was screaming for me to bolt, I was more than happy to give the vigil over to Xavier.
“How did you find him?” Xavier asked. His voice was calm, almost disconnected, but he still didn’t turn to look at me.
“I thought I heard an animal in the alley. Like a dog that’d been hit by a car or something. When I got closer, I realized it was a person. He was behind the dumpster.”
I bit down on my lip, hoping he would say something so I wouldn’t have to ask the one question that’d been weighing on my mind. No such luck.
“Did you have anything to do with this?” I asked finally.
For a moment, he didn’t answer. Then he turned to me and gave me a withering glare. “No.”
Hmm.
“Because you guys had words during dinner…” I didn’t finish the sentence.
“Do you think I would harm my nephew? My last surviving human relative?” He managed to look amused and offended at the same time.
Did I think he was capable of that? Oh, yes. But did I really think he did this? No. For one thing, he sounded genuinely surprised and concerned when I called out from the alley, and for another, if Xavier had been the one using his face for a punching bag, there would have been a lot more damage. Like they would be standing outside the morgue right now rather than a hospital room.
I shook my head and looked down at my bag. “No, but I had to ask. What did he want to talk to you about so badly anyway?”
Xavier looked down at me, his face softening just a little. He threw a look over his shoulder where his two burly guards stood like statues. “Gentlemen, please go get us some coffee.”
They obeyed without hesitation. Apparently, youcould find good help these days.
Once they were out of earshot, he leaned his back against the doorjamb.
“Devon has decided that he wants to… join the family business, so to speak.”
Nothing he could have said would have surprised me more. We’d actually had a very brief conversation about this once before. I asked him if he planned to change his nephew, and he’d been adamantly against it. The boy was, according
to Xavier, the last to carry on the family name. If Devon became a vampire, Xavier’s human family would die out.
He smiled woefully. “See? There’s that look again.”
“Oh. Ouch. What did you tell him?” I asked, genuinely curious.
Xavier straightened, tugging on his sleeves. “I told him no.”
I couldn’t help but smirk. If Devon was anything like his uncle in personality, telling him no would only make him want it more.
Xavier tilted his head, looking at me like I’d just done a trick.
“Why are you smiling?”
I couldn’t help it. “Because I was just thinking that there was probably nothing you could have said that would have made him want it more.”
Xavier humphed and moved back to the window, telling me I was totally right.
The doctor opened the door and stepped out.
“How is my nephew?” Xavier asked, his voice back to cool neutrality.
The doctor held an x-ray over his head and pointed to something I couldn’t make out.
“He’s got a concussion, but no sign of swelling in the brain, which is good. He does have three broken ribs, a good-sized gash in his forearm, and a few bumps and bruises. All in all, he was very lucky. I’d like to keep him at least twenty-four hours for observation. Then a few weeks of taking it easy and he should be as good as new.”
I let out a breath of relief and put my hand on Xavier’s back. “Thank you, Doctor.”
The doctor, an older man with a snow-white mustache that made him look like a skinny, beardless Santa, turned to me. “Are you Isabel?”
I dropped my hand and went back to clutching my purse. “Yes.”
“He’s asking for you.”
“Me?”So much for not getting in the middle.
The doctor nodded. “But please make it very quick. He needs to be resting.”
I looked to Xavier, who said nothing, but his expression was as surprised as my own. “Um, yeah. Okay. Be right back.”
