Romance with a Bite

by Tamsin Baker

  A series of groans told me how much most of my class enjoyed comprehension tests. Bad luck for them. I needed a baseline assessment for each student. It also helped to know who would choose the paper option, if anyone. The sounds of bags zipping open and laptops sliding onto the tabletops drowned out a hum of conversation.

  “Damn. I forgot my charger and it’s out of juice.” Jake slapped his ultra-thin and new-looking model laptop as if it was responsible for the oversight.

  “Then borrow one from the closet, Jake.”

  “There won’t be one for this baby, the connectors are new and different.”

  “Check the closet, Jake.” Regardless of the volume and situation, Ms. Merryweather always managed to add a tone of calm authority and command to her voice.

  With barely a sigh, he shuffled to his feet, rummaged in the closet and returned—not the slightest bit repentant—with a power cord. I walked slowly around the edge of the classroom, answering questions. Ms. Merryweather tapped her chin thoughtfully as I passed her. She didn’t look impressed by my first class. A flutter of hands under the table caught my attention. Veronica accepted a folded note from her neighbor.

  “I’ll have that.” I held out my hand.

  Veronica tried to hide the note with her palm. “Sorry, Ms. Thompson?”

  “The note you’re trying to hide. Give it to me, please.”

  Veronica frowned but handed the paper to me.

  “GBSE Friday night, nine pm. I’m going as a flapper.” I read aloud.

  “That’s private,” Veronica said.

  “Not when it’s handed around in my classroom. What is GBSE?”

  “None of your business.” Veronica didn’t try to hide her anger.

  “Gravier Basement Speakeasy.” The girl next to Faith glared at Veronica before speaking again. She was either clueless or very brave.

  “You are not invited, Cindy Kerr.” Veronica moved her glare from Cindy to Faith. “Neither of you. And you never will be.”

  So, this was one of the parties Imogen mentioned, and so early in the year. “How often are these parties held?”

  “Why? What’s it to you?” Jake asked.

  “Curiosity. I’m new here.”

  The bell for class change sounded. Students shuffled their chairs back.

  “Wait.” I raised my voice above the scraping sounds. “Remember to hand in your comprehension tests now and have your homework finished by our next class.”

  The students filed out of the classroom in an untidy gaggle. Faith and Cindy lingered, whispering to one another. I approached, but Cindy noticed me and elbowed Faith.

  “Any questions, ladies?”

  They both shook their heads, scooped their books and laptops into their bags and deposited their paper comprehension tests on my desk as they left.

  “Well done, Ms. Thompson.” The headmistress gave me a small nod and left.

  Some of the tension in my shoulders drained away and I let out a slow breath. I had the classroom to myself for the next period so I started glancing through the handful of handwritten tests. My focus wandered, though. After a few minutes, I flipped my laptop on and started Googling anything I could about the Gravier family. I found a lot of photos of Nic at various events, movie-star handsome in all of them. Good information about their 1850s mansion, their philanthropic work and their business success. Even information about the blood lab—though not about what they did with the blood, and nothing at all about a speakeasy in the basement.

  Veronica’s cutting retort to Cindy suggested the party was invitation only.

  I snorted. Like I would let that stop me.

  Chapter Six

  Snuggles and I were sharing rocky road ice cream after dinner when someone rapped at the door on Tuesday evening. The cat leapt to the window and gave a welcoming meow. I peeked through the peephole and gazed, for a second too long at the attractive profile of Sheriff Miller. Pity we were related, but then again, his gruffness was enough to put a girl off.

  He lifted his hand to knock again and I yanked the door open.

  He stood with hands on his hips. “Louisa.”

  “Who were you expecting?”

  He rolled his eyes and leaned against the door jamb. “Have you read the journals?”

  “Good evening to you too, Sheriff.”

  Snuggles twirled around my ankles then paced to the sheriff, put his front paws against his knees and chirped out a greeting. Looked like the fluffy traitor still preferred the sheriff to the friendly neighborhood vampire. The reality I was getting dragged into plowed into my thoughts and I shuddered.

  “Come in.” I stood aside to let him enter. “Yes, I have started reading the journals Tilly wrote.”

  “You saw Imogen Williams on Sunday.”

  “Does everyone know everyone else’s business here?” This time I jammed my hands on my hips.

  “Only the important people,” he said, straight-faced.

  I almost gave him my classroom “everyone is important, equal and deliciously different” talk, but I opted for a glare instead.

  He shrugged. “We bumped into one another in town.”

  “Convenient.”

  “It’s a small town.”

  “Look, Sheriff—”

  “Ben. Are you leaving that wide open?” He nodded to the front door.

  I closed and locked the door with a sigh. “Is this a neighborhood watch visit?”

  “No.” He faced me. “Have you seen your visitor from last Friday again?”

  “No.” The lie flowed easily. I wasn’t sure why I didn’t just blurt out the two meetings with Nic since seeing Ben on Saturday. Not that I had any intention of sharing the details of that kiss with anyone. Ben’s grumpy mood didn’t make me feel like confiding anything.

  “You’ve checked the arsenal?”

  “Sheriff Miller,” I stabbed a fingertip into his chest, “would you like to shrug out of your bad temper and start again?”

  He rubbed his chest, a slow smile curving his mouth. “The bruise Tilly gave me when she jabbed me with an angry finger lasted for weeks. You’re nothing like her, and yet…” He blew out a slow breath and his demeanor changed subtly. “Weapons practice. I’d like to get you started tonight—”

  “Tonight?”

  He held up his palm. “Imogen is right about the nests proliferating.”

  “A house where vampires gather to,” I gesticulated widely, “do whatever they do?”

  “Exactly. They do everything that vamps do. Most troubling is new vampires, gathering together with no one mentoring them. The Graviers do what they can.” He shrugged.

  “So, the Graviers aren’t the bad guys here?”

  “Bad to the bone. Totally ruthless. But better, in the grand scheme of things, than either unsupervised or poorly taught newbies.”

  Not bad enough to stop Tilly and Nic knowing one another very well. Did Ben know about the tunnel? Surely, he would have said something by now. I brought my gaze back to his face and found him watching me intently.

  “So, we don’t hunt all vampires?”

  He sneered. “They have as big a stake in maintaining the status quo as we do.”

  I needed to finish Aunt Tilly’s journals. I didn’t know enough about vampires, let alone their politics and alliances. “It’s already dark out. How will we practice?”

  “We work in darkness, Louisa. It takes time for them to develop a tolerance of sunlight. The newbie vampires can’t stand it, so are primarily nocturnal.”

  “I have a day job.”

  “And need little sleep.” He quirked his brow.

  True. I’d managed with five to six hours of sleep every night for as long as I could remember. I grabbed my head in both hands. “Okay. Weapons practice. We start tonight, but I want to be in bed by eleven. I’ve still got journals to read and I don’t need a sleep-deprived brain to deal with a classroom of hormone-fueled teenagers.”

  #

  Ben finished nailing the high-vis, ne
on yellow, human-shaped target to a tree stump and paced seven steps toward me. “Stand here.” He dragged his heel across the lawn to make a straight line.

  “The garden lamps cast shadows everywhere.” My voice quivered. The basement arsenal with its shiny surfaces and kitchen-like cabinets could have belonged in a fantasy. But this was real. Me, a target, and a gun. I glanced at the illuminated target, at the bag of equipment Ben had grabbed from his car, and back to the target. “I don’t shoot.”

  “You do now.” Ben was all business. “We’ll cover knife training later.”

  Sweet heavens. Knives? My legs suddenly felt too weak to hold me up. “I cut myself peeling potatoes, you know.”

  “I didn’t. But thanks for the update. I’ll keep out of your way until your aim improves.” He stood and placed his hands on my shoulders. “You will be a natural at this. I promise. Just let yourself be who you are.”

  A natural hunter. A natural killer. Tilly wanted me to follow her path, but could I? Did I want to? “I’m just an English teacher—”

  He tweaked my nose, just like a cousin would. “We’ll shoot a few rounds, review over coffee, and schedule a training plan. Okay?”

  I felt myself nod as he handed me ear protection and placed a gun into my right hand. He stood behind me and molded my hands around the gun as he named each of its parts—the action, frame, clip and barrel. He showed me how to use the trigger and manage the recoil.

  “This is a double action handgun. I know Tilly uses—used—a few of these and she had plenty of good-quality ammo for them.”

  “I saw bullets.” I swallowed a hard lump. “And other stuff.”

  “I’ll take you through what everything is and does later. Maybe this weekend. Tonight, we’ll get you used to a few basic shooting positions and fire off some shots.”

  My hands shook so much I felt the tremors in my arms.

  Ben gripped my elbows and held me still for a few seconds. “It will get easier. Your fear will evaporate once you get into a regular practice routine.”

  “Regular as in weekly?”

  “Daily.”

  I spun to face Ben. “What? I have a job—”

  “You have your destiny.” He gently pointed the gun barrel toward the ground and well away from us. “Always know your gun is loaded, and never aim it at someone you aren’t prepared to kill.”

  I didn’t believe in fate or destiny, but Ben wasn’t interested in my opinion on the subject. He turned me so he stood at my back and gripped my arms again. “Both hands steady on the frame. Feet shoulder width apart.” His voice oozed confidence, and was well-modulated. A great tone for teaching. “Fully extend your arms and point the barrel downward at a forty-five-degree angle.”

  “Like in cop shows.” If I concentrated on the small details, I could pretend I wasn’t practicing on a human-shaped target.

  Ben barked out a laugh. “Rarely. Most get it wrong.” He adjusted my aim and extended my fingers on either side of the barrel. “We are going to talk a lot about trigger discipline. When you’re ready, raise your arms to the target, aim for the center, and squeeze the trigger.”

  My first three shots missed the target altogether and I couldn’t help laughing. The fourth hit the ground in front of the target and clods of earth flew into the air.

  “Excellent.”

  Without moving my hands, I glanced at Ben over my shoulder. He grinned back at me.

  I aimed for a withering glare. “No need to get sarcastic.”

  “No sarcasm. Your aim is improving fast. The first went way wide. The second and third closer, and the fourth was directly in front of the target.”

  “If my target doesn’t like getting dirty, I guess I could buy some time to run fast. Or make him mad.”

  “Plus, you’ve mastered your fear. This time you’ll hit the torso.”

  “If you say so.”

  “See Snuggles on the window sill, watching us?”

  I nodded. “He’s laughing at me.”

  Ben pointed at the target. “That vampire is coming for you. It’s a leech, desperate for and addicted to fresh human blood, and he wants yours. He hates cats. They all do. And he enjoys killing them—”

  “Stop.” I stamped my heel onto his foot.

  Adrenalin surged through me. No one threatened my cat. I sucked in a breath, held it and aimed at the torso again. A puff of yellow drifted in the air for a few seconds.

  Ben squeezed his hands around my upper arms, the pressure brief but welcome. “I was right.”

  “But leech or not, he’s a vampire. That wouldn’t kill him.”

  “No. But with silver bullets loaded, it would slow him down, let you get to safety. Let you call me.”

  “You’re my back-up?”

  “And you will be mine.”

  How could I be anyone’s back-up? If I partnered with Ben, then how could I team with Nic, my dangerous—but not dangerous to me—enemy? I had to push the questions away to focus on practicing basic gun-handling skills.

  We practiced for another hour. With arms outstretched, with elbows tucked into my sides, and about halfway in between. My aim improved, until I started shooting wide again.

  “Enough. Go inside and I’ll clean up out here.” Ben nudged me to the back porch.

  “Coffee?” I scrubbed the back of my neck.

  “Sounds good.” He gave me a double thumbs-up. “We’ll make quick progress with daily practice.”

  “I need Friday night off.” The words were out of my mouth before I’d admitted to myself that I was going to the party at the Gravier house, invited or not. Besides, Nic said to call on him at any time and that he was looking forward to seeing me. Surely that included Friday evening too.

  “Why?” Ben glanced quickly at me and returned to his clean-up.

  “I deserve one night a week off.” I kept my voice casual, glad Ben couldn’t see the heat flaring in my cheeks. Something stopped me from telling him my plans. I felt sure he’d try and stop me.

  “I guess I do too.” A note of suspicion crept into Ben’s tone. “Friday, it is.”

  #

  The week flew by. My senior literature class on Friday morning passed without incident and almost everyone completed their set homework. Ben turned up every evening for weapons and hand-to-hand fighting practice. Surprisingly, I not only felt myself getting better each evening, I enjoyed it. Especially knocking Ben to the ground, not that I managed it often.

  My last two classes on Friday were student-free time so I headed home early.

  Snuggles greeted me with excited yips. I scooped him up, he rested his paws and head on my shoulder and purred into my ear.

  “I know you love me, gorgeous boy, and I love you. But you are not getting early dinner because I’m home early.”

  In the kitchen, Snuggles trilled and chirped in excitement as he circled around and between my calves.

  I tapped the calendar on the fridge where the folded note I’d confiscated from Veronica served as my old-fashioned event reminder. “I’m going to practice, take a bath then take my time getting ready for the speakeasy party this evening.”

  Stupid move. As soon as I taped the fridge door, Snuggles combined head-butting my calves with crazy, loud chirps.

  I cupped my hands over my ears. “Not so loud. The neighbors will complain.”

  I don’t know how he did it, but he gave me one of his total stink-eye glares.

  “All right.” I held up my arms in surrender and grabbed his food. “Some vampire hunter I am. I can’t even take on a fifteen pound Maine Coon cat.”

  Sensing he’d won, Snuggles jumped onto his feeding mat. After half filling his kibble bowl, I changed into yoga clothes to run through the practice exercises Ben had shown me.

  Ninety minutes later, lying in a heavenly jasmine and yang ylang scented bath, I considered my options for the evening. The dress was a given. The gorgeous, vintage, sparkling, sequined cocktail LBD hung on the bathroom door. I’d bought it for a party at the S
peakeasy club in San Francisco. I’d gotten so many compliments, I knew I looked good in it. It fit perfectly and looked both modern and flapperish. I’d look fine even if the flapper comment led me astray.

  I still hadn’t told Ben, so I’d no idea if he had an invitation or he kept his vampire hunter eye on these parties. Still no invitation for me either, but Nic said to call on him anytime. Sounded like an open invitation to me.

  Somewhere on YouTube or Pinterest I’d find some ideas for make-up and hair. I’d look better than any of the teenagers, I’d make sure of it. Not that I was doing it for Nic. No, siree. This was all for me. A tiny part of me wanted my students to see me as a person, not just a nameless literature teacher. But a much bigger part knew that teenagers were unlikely to pay attention to anyone a decade older. Unless you were a vampire, apparently.

  Vampires. I slid deeper into the cooling bath water. Sweet heavens. What was I doing? Three training sessions with Ben did not make me a kick-ass hunter. Not even a mediocre fighter. I took deep breaths until the tightness in my chest eased. Nic was a good vampire. Mostly, so Imogen said, and Ben seemed to agree. Nic wouldn’t let anything bad happen in his own home. Surely, he wouldn't let anything bad happen to me, not after that toe-curling kiss. Besides, this was as good a way as any to meet people and get my head around the scene.

  I could let out some water and add hot, or get out of the bath and start my make-up. Better make a start. Saying goodbye to Miss Thompson, demure literature teacher, and hello to twenties “it” girl would take time, attention to detail, and a bit of practice. I quashed all early signs of panic. Ben’s favorite adage seemed to be “panicking prey gets eaten.” I wasn’t about to become any predator’s prey.

  Snuggles joined me in the bathroom and watched me in the mirror. I Googled 1920s make-up and practiced with kohl eye shadow until satisfied I had the smoky-eye look just right. I rummaged in my make-up drawer until I found a perfect, deep crimson, stay-on-all-day lipstick. Snuggles ran off with my blusher brush while I was trying to paint on a perfect cupid’s bow. Did they wear false eyelashes in the twenties? Thank goodness for Google. Yes, falsies were all the rage.