“I’ll be watching you, Gray,” I warn, as he starts walking back the way he came. He turns around and winks, walking backward. Then, very dorkily, he trips over a table and falls on his butt. Recovering quickly, he vanishes down the hall like nothing happened.
Wow. Very cute, but, wow. I had no idea vamps could be dorky. Thought they all just swam in constant elegance while the rest of us are here to trip over our own feet.
They’re always so graceful, it makes me want to punch one in the face just to see them blink a few times. Is that mean? Hell, probably. Oh, well.
Having nothing else to do really, I finally decide to go exploring. I was only in the living room while I was here before and only for a short time while he changed because he’d spilled something all over himself.
Something being blood.
He should’ve had enough common sense not to try and drink blood out of a plastic cup—no lid—while driving down the road. Someone pulled out in front of him and he had to slam on the brakes. Cup-o-blood went flying. It would’ve landed on me if he hadn’t used his vampy reflexes to catch it, sloshing liquid on his shirt.
After walking down the hall to the bathroom I was to use—pretty nice, walk-in shower with fancy turquoise-colored tiles—I pass the kitchen where he’s chopping at something and take in all of the fancy paintings lining the hallway. But…strangely enough I don’t recognize any of them.
In school I had to do a project about artists back in the day—I didn’t mind—and I’ve come to love even more of the popular ones. Like Vincent Van Gough’s Starry Night, Water Lilies by Claude Monet. Love all of his.
“Who painted this, sweet cheeks?” I call, bending closer to it. It’s of a woman standing right beside the pier, watching a ship leave, and she’s crying. I’ve never seen this before. Squinting down at the bottom right corner, I make out a DG. Dollar General?
“I did.”
Shock goes through me and it quickly turns into raging jealousy. “I hate you,” I growl, sneering the mocking painting down.
I feel him look up, “Why?”
When did I become so aware of you? I wonder. “Because I can’t paint a stick figure in a patch of grass.” He chuckles and goes back to chopping. I didn’t notice it before, but the sleeves to his black dress shirt are rolled up and he’s actually wearing an apron. It’s pretty sexy.
“Why’re you staring at me again?” He briefly raises his head from what he’s doing.
“Just checking you out….” I move to admire another painting on the far wall. This one’s of a forest with a tiger’s glaring eyes coming through the leaves. Pretty cool. “Ya know, if you’re actually good at cooking, you should get your own show. People would tune in just to drool over you.” I glance over in time to see him nearly drop the knife.
“Are you trying to seduce me, Gilmore?” Wonder if he realizes he’s not even chopping anymore?
“Nope,” I reply cheerfully, moving on from the painting. “That’d take too much effort.”
There’s a silence.
I start to go over to the spiral staircase in the corner then he’s in front of me. “That’s off-limits,” he warns in a stern, serious voice.
“Seriously?” It must be something juicy. Ooh, is that the bat cave?
“Yes, seriously.” He runs his hand through his hair. “I might take you up there eventually, but, for now, it’s off-limits. Okay?”
“Sir, yes, sir.” I stand up straight, arms straight against my sides then put on my war face. “But, tell me, is it your secret sex chamber? Are you a cliché, Mr. Gray?”
“Why is everything always about sex with you?” He goes back behind the island. I follow and climb into one of the bar chairs.
“It isn’t, not really.” I consider his statement. “I just like bringing it up to see people’s uncomfortable reactions.”
“Were you dropped on the head as an infant?” he asks and I send a glower his way. “Sorry, that wasn’t very nice of me, was it?”
“You are a cliché. Christian was an ass, too.” Propping my elbows on the counter I continue with the dirty look.
“I guess I deserved that.” He sighs, giving me a very tired gaze. “Will you now accept my apology?”
“Fine,” I grumble. “What’re you making? And where’s Toby? Isn’t that his name?”
“You’ll find out when it’s done.” He goes back to chopping, “And he’s out with his friends. He usually comes back around midnight.”
“Is there anything else to see in this place?” I take in the black marble counter tops, flat stove, and all of the other fancy stuff in the nice kitchen. I’ll never get used to this. My house has a lot of old stuff. Stuff that’s been there since I was a kid, like the same fridge that makes strange, what we call “mating” sounds. The toaster that really lets you know when it’s done. It makes a horrible racket, and the dishwasher that leaks through the floor. So, this is weird for me.
“No, I think you’ve seen everything. There are three bedrooms. Mine’s up there.” He points with his knife. “Two bathrooms—one connected to my room—the living room, and the kitchen.”
“So, no hidden dungeons, or bats with coffins?” I tease.
“No, I am not a cliché vampire,” he snaps in annoyance. “What is it with you and cliché’s anyway? If I hear ‘cliché’ one more time, I might jab this thing in my ear.”
“I hate clichés,” I explain, “Sorry.”
“Why?”
“Come on, cliché—” I bite my lip. “How about we call it asparagus?” I suggest, seeing a package of it sitting beside of me.
“Asparagus?” he repeats, raising his brow then chuckles. “Fine, asparagus it is then.”
“Asparagus annoys me. The asparagus love story. Where the girl meets the guy or they’re best friends to begin with and he does something or she finds something out about him she doesn’t like. They stop seeing each other, and they’re both missing each other like crazy. Every little thing reminds them of said person. In the end, they get back together, realizing they’ve loved each other all along, and happy music plays.” I throw my hands up in exasperation.
“I think you just described every rom com out there.” He points the knife at me.
“I can’t believe you just said rom com,” I snicker, face palming.
“I can’t believe you hate asparagus.” He laughs. “If you pay enough attention, you’ll realize that life’s an asparagus.”
“How so?” I ask this know-it-all.
“Read the paper. Watch the news. Every day there’s someone out there falling in love for the first time, getting their heart broken for the first time. Someone out there’s writing a love story. Writing about a vampire falling in love with a mere mortal, about someone being abused then finding the peace and closure they need and moving on. Sometimes the asparagus in life is beautiful. Don’t be so quick to judge from an insider’s point of view.” He waves that knife at me again, like a teacher giving a lesson.
“Well, I still hate asparagus love stories.” I fold a leg under me, leaning back in the chair.
“Fine, then, Miss Gilmore, how would your non-asparagus love story go?” He gives a gallant sweep of his arm for me to tell my story.
“Well.” I think about it. “Okay, say a girl named…uh….” I try to find something, and then I see a salad. “A girl named Sally—”
“Asparagus name,” he interjects in a bored tone.
“Well, fine, then, we’ll just call her Dildo.”
“Always about sex.” He adds noodles to boiling water.
“Do you want to have it right here on this counter?” I hop my teasing ass on the counter and he flushes bright pink before turning his back to me and searching through the cabinets.
“Tell your story, Nessa.”
“A girl named Dildo has a pretty decent life. She’s worked hard for it after her mom falls from grace. Her mom lost her high-paying job as a lawyer because people found out that…that she’s a racist bitch. He
r daughter, Dildo, wasn’t though.
“She’s married to a black man. Happily married, I might add. They have one kid, a little girl. Dildo started off as a hair stylist then worked her way to owning the building, and now she owns hair salons everywhere. Damn, wait, is that an asparagus happy ending?” I scrunch my nose up. “Then she gets squished by a meteor, wait, no, by-by the frozen shit that comes out of planes, literal shit. Now, that’s a bad day.”
He doesn’t say anything for a while, just stands there, breathing deeply. I’m tempted to ask if he got another woody at my mention of us having coitus on the counter but bite my tongue.
“Decent story, but you suck at telling them,” he finally replies and returns to cooking. Like nothing happened.
<<<->>>
The next morning, I have a minor freak-out thing, not knowing where I am. Then I remember and calm down. Waking up to a ceiling that isn’t covered in glow stars and Nicks’ chewed gum is weird for me. As soon as he grew tall enough, he stood on my bed and threw them up there, they still haven’t fallen. I’ve been waiting for it to smack me in the face in my sleep.
Devin’s black-out curtains in every room is another weird thing. The only reason I know it’s daytime is because of the light peeking under the curtains.
Thankfully it’s a holiday because I probably overslept. I don’t know what time it is and I don’t have to, it’s one of the best feelings. Snuggling deeper into my blankets, I wish for more sleep. Mostly because whatever Devin made last night still has my stomach in knots and I just wanna be lazy for a little while.
This wish doesn’t happen though. Of course.
I was finally dozing back off when a soft knock on the door jerks me awake again. Hoping whoever it was would get the message, I throw my pillow at the door. If they know me at all, they’ll understand, if they’re not careful, my shoe’s going up their butts.
There’s another knock.
Gotta rip it off like a Band-Aid, or it’ll be more painful. Groaning, I throw myself out of bed and glance over my shoulder. The feathers on my wings are actually ruffled. Interesting. Yanking the door open, I glare at the intruder, hoping to scare them off.
“Hey,” Devin says.
I hiss, like the freak I am.
“It’s ironic. I’m the vampire here, and I like waking up to see the sunrise and you, Miss Witch, hate mornings.”
I rub the gunk out of my eyes, “What do you want, dude?”
“I want to run an idea past you.” He appears to be in pain. “I’ve resisted the urge to wake you up earlier…I don’t think you’d let me live if I had…” he jokes again.
“Fine.” I stumble out of the room and make my way to the kitchen, where, to my surprise, the guys are waiting. “Am I dreaming?”
“Nope,” Kyle sings cheerfully, handing a to-go cup over.
“How’re you…uh…healing up?” Jake jerks a thumb toward his back. Once he mentions it all of their attention goes to my wings, which are fully extended again from where I had to pull them in to get through the door.
“Fine, I guess.” I shrug. I’m wearing a tank top and some pj pants. I’d cut holes big enough for them to fit before I climbed into bed. They have to stretch out eventually, so why not in my sleep? It’s gotten to where I hardly notice them anymore, usually only when I need to move them.
“So, they just ripped out of your back?” Nicks asks bluntly.
“Yep.” I sip hot chocolate.
“Didn’t it hurt?”
“Like a son of a bitch.” Before he can ask any more questions, I turn to Devin, who’s handing Kyle a glass of orange juice. “What was the plan you were talking about?”
“Well. Um….”
Nicks slaps a sign down in front of me.
The Westera Founders Ball. You’re all invited….
“Everyone’s going to be there,” Nicks points out.
“Maybe even whoever’s killing witches…” Kyle adds.
“It was actually a good idea.” Nicks nods. He’s keeping his promise about trying to behave.
“Oh, shit about our plans.” I wince. We were supposed to go get pizza the other day….
“You can always make it up to me by letting me take you to this fancy shindig,” he drawls.
“Deal.” I hold my fist out for him to bump it. “Wait, do I have to dress up?”
They grin in reply.
Oh, shit.
<<<->>>
Later on that day, Nicks places his hand on the small of my back, leading me into Westera’s dining hall. They finally dusted the fancy chandelier. It really stands out in the middle of the 18th century room, with its small tables covered with navy-blue tablecloths and white candles. They’ve decorated it nicely enough for a black-tie event. Unfortunately for me.
“What’s that smell?” I hiss to Nicks.
He frowns down at me, “Smell? I only smell…humans.”
“I’m human.”
“You have a different scent.” He wraps his arm around my shoulders, leading us to a table.
Weird.
Frowning down at my heels and black dress, I can’t hold back another groan. My feet are already killing me. When I mentioned I’d prefer to wear a tux, the guys just went back to making plans without acknowledging my thoughts. Apparently, Devin has some designers on speed dial who were more than happy to finally help a girl with her fashion choices.
Apparently I needed to look “hot” to be the “eye candy” to get people’s attention. In other words, I now officially hate being undercover.
Devin nods once at us from across the room before he goes back to scanning the place. Vamps have this sixth sense—I guess you could say—which helps them identify other vamps. I don’t know if they sniff them out or what. They never filled me in on the details.
I get a brief glimpse of the guys through the mass of people. We didn’t come here together; it’d be too obvious. Nicks and I are in the corner, supervising everybody. Mostly because I can barely walk in these shoes some girls run in, but also because I hate fancy events and prefer to stay hidden at the back of the room.
Pretty much the whole town shows up, even a lot of people from my school, which is very unfortunate. Because they annoy me more than most people, and, tomorrow, there will be all kinds of ridiculous rumors about Nicks and I being together. I can already see them whispering to each other now.
I take another sip of the water I brought from home. Who the hell knows if someone spiked the punch? They might’ve spiked it with rat poison for all we know. The other teenagers—and some adults—would do something similar just for their entertainment. No wonder people think we’re all monsters.
“Shall we dance?” Nicks takes my arm, already leading me away from our safety zone, where I’m most comfortable.
“You know I can’t dance.” I don’t want to be embarrassed in front of all of these people.
“You’ll be fine.” He pulls me closer. “Just follow my lead.”
“If I fall on my face, consider your ass kicked,” I growl back in his ear.
Chuckling, he starts moving, and my knees knock together. Taking a deep breath helps some and I follow, being careful not to stomp on his feet. Soon we have an audience and I understand his plan. Distract people enough so the guys can scope the place out more efficiently.
Nothing would grab people’s attention more than the star football player dancing with a freak like me.
“You’re doing great,” he mumbles into my ear, letting his hand slowly graze my hip, nearly making me freeze. Whatcha think ya doin’ there hunky?
“Please don’t tell me you’re getting some kinda crush on me…” I hiss quietly. “’Cause I’ll kick your—”
“Just making things a little more interesting.” He dips me, bringing me back up face-to-face. “And, I think your boy has that covered.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, trying not to lose the delight I’m hoping is in my expression.
“Devin wants you,”
he thinks, clearly enjoying this. “Wants you bad.” He turns me so I get a brief glimpse of Devin, standing there watching us.
“Horse shit.” I try not to glance over at Devin again.
“Such language from such a pretty mouth.” He strokes my face with his thumb. From that brief touch, I get a sense of his real plan. Shock washes through me and is soon replaced by anger. He’s trying to piss Devin off, simply to get under his skin…because he knows how he feels about me.
I let him see the tears in my eyes. Why can’t we just get along?
The song ends, and I move through the crowd to get as far away from him as possible. Using the excuse of the bathroom for my escape, because I can’t talk to talk to Nicks right now. Before I’m even able to get in a stall, Kyle appears in the doorway. Ignoring the gasps and angry glares from the other woman in the room he gazes directly at me.
“We found something,” he mouths, and I nod once following him out of the funny-smelling ballroom.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
~ Chasing Demons ~
Running behind vampires, while they’re on high pursuit of a possible suspect while I’m wearing heels? That’s a whole new level of fun. Good thing I’m not so tall and not scared of falling. It’d be a longer drop. I run as fast as I can down the street and through the woods where they really speed up, and then I really wish some of my bizarre witchy powers could pick up and get me there.
I could always try to fly.
Shaking the thought from my head, I try to get a little closer to them. It’s, of course, not happening. Until I flash from the dark forest to a clearing in the middle of nowhere.
What the hell just happened?
Before I stop running, I flash again, this time to some other completely deserted, creepy part of the woods. I don’t stop running. Maybe I can get there. Thinking this, I flash one more time, only to yelp and try to scramble back. The ground crumbles from underneath me, and I scrape the edge of the cliff, trying to stop. My wings twitch some, but other than that, nothing. Just because they’re covered with thin black material shouldn’t cause them not to work.
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