The Vampire’s Mail Order Bride

by Kristen Painter

  Come to think of it, Elenora Ellingham wore violets often.

  “Not well.” She held a lacy handkerchief to her nose and looked toward the marble fireplace. She might have been turned in her sixties but she’d been a handsome woman even then. Becoming a vampire had only made her more beautiful.

  He stifled a snort as he settled into the velvet Louis chair across from her. “I’m sorry to hear that. You’re not thinking about facing the dawn, are you?”

  She dropped her hand to her lap and glowered at him. “I like you least of my grandsons.”

  He nodded dutifully, suppressing the grin that would only get him into more trouble. “I know.”

  She shook her head at him. “You hardly visit me anymore.”

  “We went out to lunch two days ago, and three days before that we were all together for Sunday supper.”

  She took a deep breath and stared toward the window. The crescent moon was just visible in the night sky. “I’ve decided enough is enough.”

  “What is?” Oh, this had the makings of something epic. He waited to see what he’d done now.

  “Of you being alone. Of you mourning Juliette and breaking hearts.” She raised her brows. “It’s been over three hundred years. Plenty of time for you to move on and give me some grandbabies.”

  His jaw fell open, but he was powerless to close it.

  “Shut your mouth, Hugh. I can see your fangs.” She frowned at him. “It’s not like it’s impossible for vampires to procreate. As long as both parties have been turned, they have as much chance of producing a child as a mortal couple. You know the rest, I assume, or would you like me to have that talk with you as well?”

  “Have you gone mad, woman? No, I don’t need to hear the birds and the bees from you.” He pressed his fingers to his brow in an attempt to stave off the headache that would be hitting him at any moment due to the influx of questions barraging his brain. He wasn’t sure where to start, so he chose the topic of least resistance. “Why am I suddenly the one responsible for carrying on the Ellingham line?”

  “Well, your brothers aren’t going to do it, are they?”

  “Sebastian…no, never mind.” His eldest brother had also been married when they’d been turned, but unlike Juliette, Sebastian’s wife had survived the transition. Their marriage had not. She’d decided she enjoyed the vampire life so much she’d rather try it unencumbered by a husband. The whole ordeal had soured Sebastian on women and wedded bliss.

  Hugh understood. To an extent. Sebastian had taken it hard, where as if Juliette had simply left Hugh as opposed to dying, he could very well imagine he would have been remarried by now. “Sebastian may never get over Evangeline.”

  “I’ve come to accept that.” She nodded. “Sebastian is broken. I don’t believe there’s a woman alive who could mend that man’s heart.”

  “There’s still Julian—”

  “Oh, please.” She waved her handkerchief at him. “Julian is a complete and utter charmer, but he’s also a man whore. He’s made a mockery of monogamy. It will take a woman of a very particular kind to set him on a loyal path, if such a creature exists, and I don’t have the time or patience to wait.”

  He squinted at her. “You don’t have the time? Grandmamma, we’ve been vampires for almost three hundred and fifty years, and there’s no reason to think we won’t be vampires for another three hundred and fifty. Time is not something we lack.”

  “You’re an insolent child.” She huffed. “It doesn’t matter how long we’ve been alive or will be alive, I want grandbabies. I want to see my boys settled down and happy. Or at least one of them. You.”

  “I am happy.” He wasn’t jumping up and down with joy, but he was fine.

  She gave him the stare that destroyed lesser men. “You rattle around all alone in that house of yours, working on your formulas, wallowing in your grief—”

  “I do not wallow and I am not alone. I have Stanhill.” His man-in-service was a faithful companion, his rook in vampire terms—a half-turned human who served a vampire’s needs in exchange for immortality—but their association was a purposeful one and didn’t disrupt Hugh’s routine. He liked his life the way it was. All that uninterrupted time to spend in his lab.

  And maybe a little wallowing. But it grew less with each passing year. At least, he liked to tell himself that.

  Her brows shot up. “Stanhill is your rook, not a wife.”

  “No, he’s not. Thankfully.” Because that was something Hugh was never going to have again. He stood and tried to change the subject. “How about lunch tomorrow? We could go to—”

  “Sit down.”

  Blasted woman. He sat. “No lunch tomorrow?”

  “I’ve taken the liberty”—that didn’t bode well—“of arranging for a suitable young woman to come visit you.”

  A frisson of anger worked up his spine. He loved his grandmother with all his heart, such as it was. She’d saved him and his brothers from certain death by turning them into vampires, so on some level he owed her his life. But this was a step too far. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Hugh! Language.” She clucked her tongue at him. “Just that next week, there will be a woman arriving at your home, and you’re to entertain her as a possible mate.”

  “Are you bloody kidding me? No. I won’t. This is the twenty-first century. There is no duchy to protect, no titles to pass on, no need to produce an heir. You realize you are the dowager duchess in name only.” Although in public, he and his brothers often called her Didi as a bit of a tease for that very reason. That, and she wasn’t keen on them calling her Grandmamma in public.

  “Just because we lost our land and titles doesn’t mean we have to behave as though we’ve lost our manners and sense of civility.”

  This was an old argument and not one he wanted to unpack yet again. He let a moment of silence pass to clear the air. “People don’t have arranged marriages anymore.”

  “Some do. The werewolves do.”

  “Only for their alphas and only to secure pack treaties. And I am not a werewolf.” He stared right back at her. “I am never marrying again. I don’t know why you can’t understand that.” Any woman who was going to be with him would have to become a vampire, and he was never going to risk the life of another woman that way again.

  “If the transformation hadn’t killed Juliette, the plague would have.” His grandmother sighed. “Stop punishing yourself for her death.”

  He looked away, unable to make eye contact with her in that moment.

  She continued, “Her death broke all our hearts, but that woman loved you and she loved life. She would not want you living this way.”

  The muscles in his jaw felt like they might pop if they tightened further.

  “You will at least give this woman a chance.”

  He turned to look at her. “Or what?”

  She returned his gaze, letting the moment lengthen almost to the point of discomfort. “Or I will revoke your amulet.”

  His hand went to the pendant and chain that hung from his neck. “You wouldn’t.”

  She broke eye contact to stare at her handkerchief. “I would. I am very serious about this, Hugh.”

  “Apparently.” The amulets were sacred. Necessary. They all wore them. The stone at the center held an ancient magic that protected vampires from the sun. Without it, he would never see daylight again. “Does Alice know about this?”

  “I do.” Alice Bishop walked into the room. The slight woman had aged a little more than his grandmother, but nothing that belied her almost three hundred years upon the earth. At best she looked to be in her late fifties. But then, keeping the years at bay was nothing for a witch powerful enough to create an amulet capable of shielding a vampire from the sun. She was also powerful enough that Didi had had no need to turn the woman into a rook to save her life.

  Alice stopped at the back of his grandmother’s chair. “Your grandmother only wants what’s best for you, Hugh.”

  H
e had a thousand arguments to that, but held his tongue until he could find a calmer answer. “I appreciate that, but I know what’s best for me.”

  Elenora sighed deeply. “I’m only asking that you give this a chance.”

  “Demanding would be a better description.” The only chance he wanted was to leave. “How long?”

  “One month.”

  He closed his eyes. One month was a torturous amount of time to spend with a marriage-minded woman in his home, but there were ways around that. He could lock himself in his laboratory, for example. He opened his eyes and nodded. “One month. And then this…game of yours is over.”

  She sighed in frustration. “As Alice said, I only have your best interests and your happiness at heart, my darling.”

  “I am happy.”

  “Yes, you positively glow with joie de vivre. Is that why you and Piper called it quits? Because you were happy?”

  Alice smirked as she went to sit on the other side of the room.

  Hugh sighed. “You know why we broke up.”

  “I do. For the same reason you broke up with Suzanna, Heather and Kim. They weren’t the one or some such nonsense.”

  He lowered his lids in boredom. This was another old conversation he was tired of having. “Putting aside the fact that Juliette died during her transition, do you know why I haven’t found another woman to spend my life with yet?”

  His grandmother leaned in. “No, but I’d like to hear this.”

  “Because I have yet to meet a woman who’s made me think about marriage or children the way Juliette did, one who’s had that kind of chemistry with me. Do you think I should settle for less than what I had with Juliette?” And wasn’t that what love was about? Feeling something so deeply you were willing to risk everything for it?

  A little half smile lifted her mouth. “If you expect the same feelings from a different woman, no one’s ever going to be the one, Hugh. You’ve got to give someone a chance.”

  “I give them plenty of chances.”

  “Yes, you’re good at the relationship part. You can hang on to a woman for…how long did you and Veronica last?”

  “Ten months.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “Impressive. More on her behalf than yours, but still you can hang on to them, can’t you? You just can’t close.”

  “Now you’re deliberately trying to rile me up.”

  “I’ve hit a nerve because I’m right, aren’t I?” She waggled a finger at him. “You can’t commit.”

  “Won’t and can’t are two different things.” He sighed. “And I’m upfront with all of them. I tell them I am never getting married again. And I won’t, because none of them has been the right one.” And none of them ever would be.

  She nodded, clearly enjoying herself. “Well, then this woman I’ve arranged for should be perfect. She’s been handpicked to meet every specification you could have.”

  “How would you know what those specifications are?”

  She smirked. “I’ve known you your entire life. I changed your diapers more than three and a half centuries ago.”

  “No, you didn’t. The nursemaid did that.”

  “Pfft. The point is, I know you, and I knew Juliette, and I know what you like in a woman.”

  She probably did. He frowned. “Does this woman know I’m a vampire?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s a rather sensitive piece of information to share.”

  “Pish posh. The agency I used specializes in finding matches for all kinds of supernaturals. It’s all on the up and up. Very confidential. They don’t even use computers or share pictures of the prospective mates.”

  He’d had no idea such a place even existed. He crossed his arms. “Is she one of those romance-novel-reading, tween-movie-watching vampire lovers? Because if I have to share my home with one of those sorts for any length of—”

  “No, she’s not. She’s a lovely young woman from upstate New York, but you should be very thankful for those romance-novel-reading, tween-movie-watching women. They’ve had a big hand in making our town a success.”

  “And Julian’s love life, once he learned to spray himself with glitter.”

  She pinched her lips together. “That aside, their money is just as green as yours, so have some respect.”

  “I do respect them. And their business.” He sighed. “Is she a vampire?”

  “No, but she’s willing to convert.”

  “You know how I feel about that.” And he wondered whether this woman was really seeking a husband or the chance at immortality. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d encountered such a person. Live as long as he had and nothing would surprise you. He decided right then that this woman wasn’t going to get the big vampire show out of him. He was going to play it straight-up mortal. See how that appealed to her.

  “I do, but let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  “So in a month, when she’s not the right one either, what then? Will you leave me alone and let me live my life with no more threats to take away my amulet?”

  She exhaled a long, exasperated sigh. “I suppose I’ll have no choice.”

  “Good.” He stood up, still angry, but at least this insanity had an expiration date. “Thirty days cannot pass soon enough.”

  Delaney woke with a start, the rumble from an eighteen-wheeler fading as the enormous vehicle passed her car on its way out of the rest stop. Captain Underpants was wound into a snug little ball on her stomach. Delaney yawned and pulled the lever to bring the seat back to an upright position, causing Captain to slide to her lap.

  Sleep had started to get the better of her as she’d crossed into Georgia, and though she had only a little farther to go, she’d pulled over for a quick nap. “Move, Cappy. Mama’s got to get us back on the road.” She hefted the cat onto the passenger’s seat.

  She checked her phone, taking it off silent. She’d been asleep a little over an hour. During that hour, she’d gotten three messages.

  All from Anthony Rastinelli.

  D, call in when u can. I changed the schedule. Yeah, she bet he’d changed it.

  D, need 2 hear from u asap. Of course he did. He wanted to know what she’d seen.

  D, how’d you like 2 b new manager? Let’s talk promotion!

  “Hah! He really thinks that’s going to work to keep me quiet? Like I don’t know the only people who get promoted in that place are family.” She looked at Captain Underpants, who was currently engaged in cat yoga on the seat beside her, licking his back leg. “You’d think a mobster could come up with something better than that.”

  She fired up the navigation on her phone, made sure her destination was still plugged in, then hit Start. Three hours and they’d be there.

  She stared into the trees lining the berm on the rest stop’s edge. The idea of pretending to be someone else and passing as some guy’s perfect, arranged match was insane, but her desire not to end up as another victim of Anthony Rastinelli’s was stronger.

  On her drive out of New York last night, she’d stopped for gas and found what might have been the last working payphone in the tri-state area. She’d used it (and all of her spare change) to call the cops and report what she’d seen. She’d sent them the video she’d taken too, right after she’d emailed a copy to herself for safe keeping. But the cops’ response had been a lot less interested than she’d expected.

  Maybe that would change when they found Benny’s body.

  A cold realization swept her. What if they didn’t find Benny’s corpse? Wasn’t the Mafia good at hiding bodies? What if they dumped him in the East River? Or maybe Rastinelli had a cop on the take? It might never be safe for her to go home.

  She bit her lip and glanced in the rearview mirror to see the stuff she’d brought with her. Besides supplies for Captain (including the litter box on the floor in the backseat), she’d brought her laptop, a suitcase full of clothes and a weekend bag filled with her most prized candy-making supplies, her journal of ideas
and her copy of The Sweet Life, the candy-making cookbook that she’d inherited from her grandmother. That book had changed her life.

  If only her grandmother were still around. She’d have known what to do about this whole murder thing. Just like she’d known what to do when Delaney had essentially become parentless at fifteen.

  With a bittersweet sigh, Delaney looked at her phone. One more thing to do before she got back on the road. She flipped open the file on Annabelle Givens, found her phone number and dialed.

  Annabelle answered on the second ring. “Hello?” She sounded classy. Not at all like Delaney.

  Delaney crossed her fingers and hoped for the best. “Annabelle Givens?”

  “Speaking.”

  “This is Adelaide Poirot’s assistant.” Delaney poured on the professionalism, trying to channel her inner Adelaide minus the French accent. “I’m calling about the recent match Eternamate set up for you. Unfortunately, your match has decided he’s not quite ready to commit so we’re canceling that arrangement. I’m terribly sorry.” She was also a horrible liar, but it was good practice.

  “Oh.” Annabelle sounded miserable. “He sounded so nice.”

  “I promise we’ll be calling within the month with an even better match.” Delaney’s voice had reached a level of chipperness on par with a game show host.

  “You will?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Okay. Thank you for letting me know.”

  “You’re welcome. Have a great day.” Delaney hung up and deflated. Being “on” for her job as a server was one thing. Pretending to be someone else was exhausting.

  The next few weeks might kill her. If Rastinelli didn’t do it first.

  She cranked on the radio, pulled out of the rest stop and put her mind back on her driving. Captain Underpants shifted to take advantage of a two-inch sliver of sun and fell asleep.

  Three hours later, Delaney took the exit for Nocturne Falls. Nerves from being this close to her destination raised her heart rate and her temperature. She cracked the window to let in some fresh air as she passed a large pumpkin-shaped sign that read, Welcome to Nocturne Falls – where every day is Halloween.