Dark Wine at Midnight (A Hill Vampire Novel Book 1)

by Jenna Barwin

  * * *

  Cerissa returned to her room, and Gaea insisted she go to bed. She didn’t fight it. The visit with Tig had unsettled her. She had resorted to using her aura to get Tig to back down, something she didn’t want to do, but this was the last thing she needed—Tig suspecting she had something to do with the shootings.

  Cerissa threw on lounging pajamas and crawled under the covers, staring at the ceiling, replaying her conversation with Tig over and over again. How could she have handled it differently? When she heard her bedroom door open, she sat up.

  “Hey, sunshine,” Blanche said. The blonde vampire flounced over onto the slipper chair and put her feet up on the edge of Cerissa’s bed. “Gaea says you’re still feeling poorly.”

  “Gunshot wounds take time to heal.”

  “Come on, everybody knows Henry gave you his blood. Why fake it?”

  How did these rumors get started? “I’m tired and want to rest.”

  “Still milking it, eh? Well, don’t shoot the messenger, but there’s a rumor going around.”

  “Zeke already told me, and I’ll tell you the same thing. I’m not looking for a vampire mate.”

  Blanche laughed and leaned back in the slipper chair, balancing it on two legs, her hair doing that fringe thing against her collar as she turned her head. “That was yesterday’s news. Now they’re saying your lab’s a sham. Leopold is using you to spy on us.”

  Had Henry said something to Rolf? No, she refused to believe it. “Whoever they are, they don’t know what they’re talking about.”

  “Word on the street is no one’s gonna to invest in your company. You might as well move on before they throw you out, or worse.”

  “You’d like me to leave, wouldn’t you? No competition for investors that way.”

  Blanche’s eyes flashed black. “Don’t make this about me,” she said, just short of a snarl. Sitting up, she banged the front legs of her chair on the floor. “I was doin’ ya a favor, lettin’ you know.”

  “Next time you feel like doing me a favor, don’t. Now please leave.”

  Chapter 32

  Alone in his game room, Henry pressed the video controller to capture additional ammunition and reload his AK-47. Now he could resume firing at the military invaders who were headed his way on-screen, laying down cover for his team.

  His phone rang. He glanced down at it—a quick moment averting his eyes, and his on-screen alter ego almost bought the farm. He moved the avatar to a safe location in the video game and then glanced down at the caller ID again. Seeing Cerissa’s name, a pleasant rush of anticipation flowed through him. He paused the video game and swiped the screen to accept the call. Rolf could carry the team without him.

  “Tig suspects something is off about me,” she said.

  Not exactly what he expected to hear. “Why do you believe that?”

  She told him what Tig and Blanche had said. “Maybe I should leave the Hill, at least until things calm down. I can come back and try another time.”

  Henry’s pulse shot up and his mouth went dry. She couldn’t leave. Too much was at stake if the Lux were a threat. And the way she kissed him… No, she just couldn’t leave now.

  “I don’t agree with your assessment of the situation,” he said, trying to sound confident. “If Tig suspected you were behind the shootings, you would not have been dealt with so lightly. It’s a standard technique, to lay out the consequences, hoping to drive the guilty into making a mistake.”

  “If she suspects me, she might really dig into my background. It won’t stand up to close scrutiny.”

  “Anyone who joins our community is eyed with suspicion for a time. I’m sure Tig has been investigating your background. If she hasn’t said anything, then her initial inquiries supported what you told them.”

  “But what about the rumor Blanche heard?”

  Do I tell her Rolf and I were responsible for those rumors? He scrubbed his hand across his face. “There are those who’ve been opposed to your presence from the beginning,” he said. “I don’t believe it’s as widespread as Blanche makes it out to be, or you wouldn’t still be here.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t let it worry you. Frankly, I’m unimpressed with Blanche’s proposal, and I doubt she’ll find sponsors on the Hill. As for Tig, well, she probably became concerned when you discussed my theories with her.”

  “Is that why Gaea isn’t allowing me any visitors? She claims it’s the doctor’s order, but I doubt Dr. Clarke cares. I mean, he let me go to the police station.”

  “I’ll check with him,” he offered.

  “Thank you, Henry. Right now, I feel like I’m under house arrest.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  He returned the phone to his belt. She was right about one thing: the doctor didn’t care whether she had visitors. Dr. Clarke was acting under Henry’s orders. He wanted her confined with no visitors until he could figure out what to do about her people. He hadn’t meant the “no visitors” order to include himself, but that was how Gaea had interpreted it.

  He pulled the matrix card from this back pocket, recalling the kiss they’d shared. If he wasn’t such a cautious person, they might have shared more than a kiss. But he couldn’t give in to the feelings she evoked. It wasn’t safe for him to fall in love; it would never be safe.

  He flicked the matrix card with his finger. I can’t keep her confined at Gaea’s forever. She’ll disappear if she feels like a prisoner. There has to be another way.

  He turned back to the video game and switched on the headset’s microphone, connecting him to the rest of the game players. “Rolf, is Grayson still on? I don’t see his character.”

  “Right here, Henry,” Grayson said over the headset, his character poking his head out from behind a wall pocked with bullet holes. “What do you need?”

  “Please call me after the game.” Henry un-paused his avatar and joined the action in time to save Dr. Grayson Clarke from a sniper. It never hurt to have someone owe you a favor.

  * * *

  “Why, Dr. Clarke, I didn’t expect you tonight,” Gaea said.

  The door to Cerissa’s room was open. She was in bed, using her computer tablet to work. Her ears perked up at the mention of Dr. Asshole’s name.

  Hmm, I better stop calling him that before I slip up.

  “Henry suggested I should check on her.” The voice of Dr. Clarke grew nearer. “He tells me she’s doing well.”

  “I don’t know what he would know about it. He hasn’t been here to see her.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’ll see for myself.”

  Gaea followed the doctor into the room. “Cerissa,” Gaea said, “you really should wear your sling. I’m not sure it’s good for you to be typing just yet.”

  Cerissa put her tablet aside, and Dr. Clarke began removing the bandages. “No sign of infection. It appears to be healing just fine. Has she been taking her antibiotics?”

  Cerissa handed him the bottle. She’d made a point to remove two pills a day and dispose of them, just in case.

  Dr. Clarke counted the pills. “She’s been taking them.” He returned the pill container to the bedstand. “How are you feeling?” he asked her.

  Cerissa’s eyes widened. He’d deigned to ask her a direct question. “Uh, fine. I’m doing fine. No pain, but it does itch.”

  “That’s normal.” He dabbed on antibiotic cream and replaced the old bandage with a smaller one over each incision. He then went through a series of tests designed to assess her strength and reflexes. Looking satisfied, he turned to Gaea and said, “Well, I see no medical reason to confine her to your house.”

  “We should talk privately,” Gaea suggested.

  “No need. I’ve cleared her, and that settles it.” He reached into his bag. “Here.”

  Cerissa accepted the glass vial he handed her. The clear glass revealed a small quantity of red liquid, the black cap keeping it from leaking out. “I don’t understand.”

 
“My blood. Apply it to the stitches a few days in a row and you won’t have a scar.”

  “I’m not sure I can. I’m Leopold’s envoy….”

  “That didn’t stop you from accepting Henry’s blood.”

  She gulped. Too late—now Gaea had heard the theory. “It was an emergency.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Medicinal need trumps Leopold’s interest. I checked the treaty.”

  “Ah, thank you.” She accepted the vial, knowing she’d never use it.

  Gaea narrowed her eyes with displeasure. “I’ll see you out, doctor.”

  “Keep taking your antibiotic and call me if any sign of infection develops—redness or oozing. Shouldn’t happen if you use my blood,” he said, pointing at the vial. “I’ll stop by in another week to take out the stitches.”

  Cerissa’s smile bloomed as soon as Gaea was gone. Her knight hadn’t slain the dragon who guarded her, but he had unlocked the dragon’s lair.

  * * *

  The phone rang. Henry looked at the name display and sent it to voicemail. Blanche could wait until he felt like talking to her. She had called a couple of times since the shooting, wanting his answer—would he invest in her idea to market Dystopian Wines? With everything going on, the last thing he needed was another call begging for money.

  He laid the phone back on his couch. His fingers had barely released it when it rang again—Gaea calling using Skype. He suspected he knew why.

  “Henry Bautista, what do you think you’re doing interfering?” Gaea demanded when he answered. She was seated in an office chair, obviously calling from her home computer.

  “Interfering?” he asked.

  “With Cerissa. Tig wanted her confined to my house and away from anyone of political importance, including you. Instead, you send Dr. Clarke over here to get her released.”

  Because it was my idea to keep her confined, not Tig’s. Or had he and Tig had the same thought? He had instructed Dr. Clarke to keep Cerissa confined. Had Tig told Gaea the same thing? Well, his authority trumped Tig’s.

  “I just happened to speak with Grayson,” he replied. “It had been a few nights since he last examined her, so I suggested he stop by tonight. We would be remiss if we didn’t provide Cerissa with the best medical care.”

  “Poppycock.” Gaea planted her fists on her hips. “I saw the orchids you sent. You’re smitten with her.”

  “The least I could do to cheer her up. The shooter was aiming at me.”

  “All the more reason you should stay away from her.”

  “Does Tig believe Cerissa had something to do with the shooting?”

  “Well, no, not really.”

  “Then there is nothing to worry about.”

  “Nothing to worry about, my fat fanny! Someone just tried to kill you.”

  “That’s no reason to hold Cerissa prisoner in your home.”

  She wagged a finger at him from the phone’s screen. “The next time you do an end run around me, Mr. Bautista, you better watch your own backside, understand?”

  “Now, Gaea, I just want what’s best for Cerissa.”

  “You aren’t taking the shooting seriously.”

  “I am taking it seriously,” he said, “but I do not believe Cerissa was involved.”

  “You better be damn right.”

  He raised one eyebrow. “When have you ever known me to be wrong?”

  Chapter 33

  Cerissa’s room—the next day

  Cerissa waited for Gaea’s front door to close, and then snuck a peek down the stair case.

  Good. Dylan’s off to his college classes.

  She returned to her room, opened the crystal of her watch, tapped the top quadrant of her watch face, and flashed to her private lab at the Enclave.

  She wrinkled her nose. A musty smell permeated the mountain caverns in which her ancestors had built their base. In spite of the smell, it felt good to be back, even for a short visit. As much as she wanted her independence, she missed it here. With none of her colleagues around, she shed her clothes and morphed into her native form.

  She grabbed the nearest lab coat and, using it like a sarong, wrapped it around her body and under her wings, tying it at her neck. First order of business—check on the experimental clones. She couldn’t let their health deteriorate just because the Protectors were impatient. A quick survey of the life-support systems confirmed they were being properly fed and hydrated. She trusted her colleagues, but this was her project. Some responsibilities just couldn’t be delegated.

  She peeled back the protective cover over one clone and found the embedded catheter. A small tube ran from it—she opened the valve, allowing blood to flow into a special collection bag. She stared at the clone, watching for any sign of discomfort. Can I be sure they feel no pain? The brain-wave monitor showed no activity, no change. Not so much as a twitch, but how can I be certain?

  No time for doubts now. The Protectors weren’t going to allow anything to stop the project—too much at risk if vampires didn’t have another blood source. It took most of the afternoon to check the clones, collect samples from three separate ones, and meet with the two junior scientists who were tasked with their care. Nothing unusual had occurred during her absence. She examined the incubating eggs, which were developing into the next batch of clones, and gave her assistants instructions to contact her if anything happened.

  After she flashed back to her room at Gaea’s, she texted Henry: “I have something you’ll be interested in.”

  A short time after dusk, he texted back. “I’ll be there at 10. Eat first. Wear jeans and a jacket. Meet me in front of Gaea’s.”

  * * *

  “This should never have happened.” Rolf marched the length of the town hall conference room, pausing to glare at those gathered around the long table.

  Tig sneaked a quick peek at her phone. Jayden should be home from San Diego soon, and here she was, stuck in this stupid meeting. She’d sent him there to interview the prison guards. From his earlier report, no solid leads.

  She doodled on the pad in front of her, letting her frustration bleed onto the page in the form of ink. Daytime sleep sucked. And so did these ridiculous meetings, fueled by politics—a complete waste of her valuable time.

  “Rolf, we understand how you feel,” Marcus replied. “Tig’s going to report on Dr. Patel’s background so we can make an informed recommendation.”

  Rolf stopped his pacing. From across the table, he fixed his eyes on Marcus. “Her background’s irrelevant,” Rolf said, his voice a low growl. “She doesn’t belong here.”

  “She’s an envoy—”

  Rolf pounded the table with his fist. “You’re the town attorney—you figure out a way to get her off the Hill. That’s what you do for us, right? The town council decides and our lawyer makes it happen.”

  Marcus shrugged. “The treaty ties our hands. We must let her stay, at least on a temporary basis.”

  “Then we need to change the treaty!” Rolf shouted, pounding on the table.

  Tig smiled and covered it with her hand. They’ll make him pay for the table if he breaks it. She wasn’t the only one seeing the comic possibilities—the mayor looked amused by it all.

  The front door of town hall closed. Gaea strode down the corridor toward them, visible through the conference room’s glass walls. Tig let her pen fall from her fingers. Now the real meeting could begin.

  The mayor rested one hand on his ample belly, a slight smile curling his lips. “Rolf, let’s wait until we hear from the chief, see what she’s found out about Cerissa.”

  Gaea sailed into the room. “What’s got Rolf so upset?”

  “He’s convinced the shooting had something to do with Cerissa,” Tig replied.

  “Why?” Gaea asked, cocking one eyebrow skeptically.

  Rolf jumped in before Tig could answer. “Isn’t it obvious? Cerissa arrives shortly after Yacov is carjacked, and then Henry is attacked. She must have something to do with it.”

  “T
hat’s all? Don’t be silly,” Gaea said with a wave of her hand.

  “What is wrong with you people? Why am I the only one here who sees the threat she represents?”

  “Young man, sit down,” Gaea ordered, pointing to a chair. “I want to hear the chief’s report before we do anything.”

  Throwing his hands up in the air, Rolf turned away and resumed his marching.

  “Now!” Gaea commanded, pointing once more at the empty chair across from the mayor.

  Rolf stopped mid-stride and turned to face her. “Fine,” he spat out. He lifted the chair and banged its wheels against the floor before sitting down.

  “Let’s see,” Gaea said, swiveling her chair in Tig’s direction. “What information have you unearthed so far?”

  Tig dimmed the lights and began her PowerPoint presentation. “Dr. Patel was licensed to practice medicine in New York, where she graduated from Johns Hopkins, completed residency, and went straight into research.”

  “Ooh, those are impressive credentials,” Gaea cooed. “She could be a real help on the Hill. I get so tired of mortals complaining about Dr. Clarke.”

  “She holds one patent for a process replicating stem cells,” the chief said, clicking through the slides. Jayden had put together most of the presentation before he left for San Diego—like she had time to waste on this nonsense. “I’ve discussed it with Dr. Clarke. Nothing in her prior research threatens us. Perhaps she has some far-fetched notion she might study us or even look for a cure. Not that any of us are interested in being cured.”

  They all laughed with her. Even Rolf gave a short “Ha.” None of them would give up the advantages of being vampire. Those advantages far outweighed the drawbacks—including the one she hated most.

  “But more likely,” Tig continued, using a laser pointer to underscore the words on the slide, “Based on the patent Dr. Patel holds and what she told Gaea when she first arrived, she’ll probably continue with her stem-cell research. So further investigation isn’t worth the money.”