by Brandon Witt
I’d been right about the redhead being a vampire, but it wasn’t the right one. Brett’s vampire had appeared to be a little younger than me. This one seemed to have been changed in his early fifties. His face swiveled to me as I made to get off my barstool. His upper lip curved in a silent snarl, exposing his fangs in a warning.
Not sure what I was going to do next, I took a step toward the couple, planning on trying to paralyze him. I knew the spell worked easily enough on witches. I’d used it on Caitlyn more than once, but I wasn’t sure about vampires. Seemed like a good time to find out.
“Whatever you’re thinking about trying, kid, I wouldn’t.” I felt a viselike grip on my left elbow, the strength of it stopping me where I stood.
Turning, all I could see was a beer logo across a gray T-shirt straining over a massive chest. Moving my eyes upward, I met the black eyes of the man who’d been sitting at the bar. Werewolf. How had I missed that tiny detail?
I glanced back toward the vampire. He’d already exited the front door. I could see him still leading the girl away from the bar windows. Again, I made a motion to move toward them.
“Maybe I didn’t make myself clear before, boy. Leave them alone.” He didn’t attempt to hide the growl in his gravelly voice.
I could feel my face flush in anger as I turned and glared back up at the werewolf. “If I don’t do something, he’ll kill her.”
He gave an unconcerned shrug. “Part of coming to The Square. She shoulda stayed clear.” His gaze passed over my head as he followed their path through the window. “Can’t blame him. I was thinking of having her as a little snack myself.”
I made another motion toward the door, only to be jerked back more forcibly. “Dude, come on. I need to help her.”
“No.” His eyes leveled with mine. They were solid black, no differentiation between the pupil and the iris. “You don’t. This happens all the time here, whether you’re here or not. You don’t know if he will kill her or just use her. Either way, even if you did save her, she’d only be back tomorrow.”
To my disgust, I couldn’t find a reasonable argument against his logic. This was what went on here; it was part of it. If I was going to be distracted by every person who made their choices and took the risk of coming here, I’d never even have a chance at helping Brett. Not that a girl that young could really make her own choices. At least not responsible ones. Still, I was sure there were lots of teenagers that came here. I couldn’t change that.
“Come on back to the bar.” He was already leading me back. “It’s easy enough to get into trouble your first time here. You don’t need to go searching for it.”
“It’s not my first time here.” I cringed inwardly at the defiant teenage tone in my voice.
“Really? Might as well be.” He settled back onto his barstool. I followed his lead. “Does your dad know you’re here?”
That was the last thing I expected him to say. “My dad?”
“Yeah, I doubt Wendell would be too pleased.” He paused and gave a cockeyed look. “You are one of Wendell de Morisco’s kids, right?”
I stared at him, dumbfounded. “How do you know my dad?”
A crooked grin cut across his chiseled face, giving his craggy features the smallest hint of boyishness. “He comes here all the time. One of the regulars. Right, Marina?” He thrust his chin toward the bartender. She only rolled her eyes.
“He… h-h-he comes in here?” My worldview was beginning to crumble.
Letting out a howl of a laugh, he brought his hand down hard on the bar top, causing Marina to give him a sidelong glare. “Nah! I’m fuckin’ with ya, kid. Your dad wouldn’t come within a hundred yards of this place.”
“Oh” was all I could manage to get out.
He took a huge draft of his beer. “I go into your dad’s shop from time to time. He helps me out on stuff. He’s a pretty cool guy.”
That made more sense, but still, picturing Dad being on a first name basis with this werewolf was off-putting.
“The name’s Farvin.” He didn’t put out his hand.
“Finn.”
“Oh sure, yeah. I’ve heard him talk about you before. You, ah… bake or something, right?”
“I work in Mom’s bakery, yeah.”
He seemed to not find it necessary to acknowledge any more on the subject of baking. Turning back to Marina, he cast his heavily muscled arm over my shoulders. “Bring a beer for my man here, wench.”
“I told you the next time you call me that, Farvin, I’m spittin’ in your drink.” She gave him a scowl but poured beer from the tap into a frosted mug and slid it over.
As he pushed the beer toward me, he kept his arm across my shoulders, his heavy bicep flexing against the back of my neck.
“Farvin, uhm… I’m not sure if I’m reading you right, but I’m sorta seeing someone.” Nothing like putting the cart before the horse.
An eyebrow rose quizzically, and then he jerked his arm away with a shake. “Awww, fuck. A fag? Really? Wendell didn’t mention that.” He cast a withering glare at me. “Not that I blame him.”
It had been years since I’d been called that. I’d almost forgotten the sting, like getting backhanded. I slid off the barstool. “Screw you, asshole. If you didn’t—”
He pushed me back onto the stool with a light shove. “Come on now. Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I know you witches are fine with whatever the in thing is at the moment. Werewolves? Well, we don’t put up with that kinda stuff, but whatever, man, your deal, not mine.”
In thing at the moment? Was this guy for real? “Listen, Farvin, it’s obvious I’m wasting your time here. I think it would be better if I—”
He raised his massive hands in a surrendering gesture. “Relax, man, relax. Besides, I’m curious what one of Wendell’s kids is doing at The Square. Gotta be a good story behind that.” He leaned a couple of inches closer, his lowered voice sounding even more like a growl. “You came here for some of the back rooms, didn’t ya? I know they’ve got some stuff for your kind.” By “your kind,” I didn’t think he meant warlock.
“Back rooms?” My face gave a genuinely blank expression.
“Oh.” His eyebrows furrowed together. “Guess you’re more like Wendell after all. If you’re not here for the back rooms, then what are you here for?”
“Well, I’m not exactly sure where to find what I’m looking for. Maybe these back rooms would have it.”
“Nah, if the back rooms had what you were wanting, you’d already know and would have come here with them in mind.” He gave another scowl. “So, what? You lose your boyfriend or something?”
I ignored the disgust in his voice, remembering that I had to do whatever I needed to do to help Brett. I must have been insane to think this guy had been hitting on me. Still, he knew my dad, and that had to mean something. Maybe he could help. “Actually, yeah, kinda. He’s got this vampire following him, seems like he’s stalking him. Killing people he loves, that kind of thing.”
His scowl deepened. “Sick fuckers. Nothing worse than vampires. Not any better than a bunch of cockroaches.” He took another deep guzzle and emptied the glass, then swiped his arm across his mouth, leaving traces of foam in the thick black hair on his forearm. “It’s the only bad thing about this place—having to share it with the likes of those freaks.” At least there seemed to be something he hated more than fags.
“Yeah, can’t say I’m too fond of them at the moment either.” I motioned out the window toward the path the vampire had taken with the girl. “He’s the reason I came in this bar. He looked like the same vampire. Tall, redheaded. Wasn’t him, though.”
His gaze traveled over me, giving me the once-over, another grin cracking his face. “And your plan was to what? Do some spells? Ask him to leave your boy toy alone?”
I couldn’t help it as my chin thrust out defiantly. “Actually, I wasn’t completely sure. I guess the best case scenario was that I’d find him and follow him so that I’d know wh
ere he slept during the day.”
He nodded, as if granting his approval, grudgingly. “Not too bad, actually. You’ve got guts at any rate, planning to try to kill a vampire. Not that I’d expect any less from one of Wendell’s kids. Even if he is a queer.”
Not knowing if I should take his words as a compliment or another insult, I just sat there, staring at him.
“You missed one vital aspect to the old vampire hunt, though.”
“Did I?” My voice was expressionless, fully expecting some gay-bashing punch line.
“Yep, the one thing vampires and werewolves have in common. The only thing.”
I didn’t even try to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. “And what’s that, Farvin?”
He leaned closer, this time the growl in his voice clearly intentional. “Just so you know, Wendell’s kid or not, the next time we speak, if you continue to have such an air of disrespect when you address me, you’ll find out how good your witchy spells are against a werewolf.”
Without waiting for a reply, he leaned back, his voice returning to his normal baritone pitch. “You can’t ever follow a werewolf, or a vampire, without their knowledge. I guess it’s the shared predatory instinct. We always know when we’re being tailed.”
He got up and slid his glass across the bar. “Marina, I’ll be back to pick you up by the time you’re done. I’m going out for a run.” She flipped her long hair over her shoulder as she gave him the briefest of glances.
Turning back to me, the quiet snarl once again returning, he leaned closer. “If you weren’t Wendell’s kid, I’d sit back and enjoy the show. If there’s a next time, if I get my druthers, I will.” He turned to go but then swiveled back for one last comment. “But I’ll give you one more helpful hint. Get out of here, kid. Staying here will just get you deeper in shit than you already are, trust me. Tell your dad hi.”
I SAT there for another fifteen or twenty minutes, intentionally nursing my beer. I’d been surprised by how the bar had filled up during our talk. The two women of unknown origin were still there, but the small group of humans and the quarreling witches had given way to a larger mix of human, witch, and vampires—none of which matched the one that attacked Brett.
Eventually, I decided to take Farvin at his word. There was nothing left at The Square for me tonight. I needed to go home. I needed to be with Brett.
Chapter 18
CYNTHIA must have heard me pull into the drive, as she met me at the door. The hair around her face was plastered to her damp skin. Her concerned relief passed in an instant, giving way to uncharacteristic anger.
“Where have you been?” Her voice was hushed but shrill as her emotions got the best of her. “You’ve been gone for hours. Hours! I had no idea what to do. No idea if you were safe or not. I tried and tried to call, but it kept going straight to your voice mail! Getting him stuff at the store does not take that long.”
My mouth opened, attempting a response.
“Don’t even try it, Finn Christian de Morisco! If you even think of telling me that you were getting stuff for Brett, I swear I’ll put a binding spell on you that you won’t break out of for the next week! I was just getting ready to call Mom and Dad if you—”
I cut in, my voice rising momentarily above hers. “You didn’t, did you?”
Her arms folded tightly across her chest, her voice hissing through her gritted teeth. “Didn’t what?”
“Didn’t call Mom and Dad.”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course, that’s the part you’re worried about. Never mind all my worry. How I was afraid you were dead. Never mind that I had to put Brett out twenty or thirty times! All you care about is—”
“Put Brett out? What do you mean?”
“His hands kept catching on fire. Over and over again. I’d barely get the sheets repaired and there he’d go again. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. Finn?”
I rushed past her and into the bedroom before Cynthia had time to leave the doorway.
Brett lay on his back in a tangle of sheets, scorch marks evident here and there on the fabric. His clothes were rumpled and damp with sweat. His blond hair lay in wet tangles over his head, his closed eyes puffy and red above his grimacing lips.
Cynthia squeezed my shoulder supportively as she stepped up behind me. Her voice returned to her soothing cadence. “He’s been like this almost since you left. Tossing and turning. Crying, calling out. Catching fire.”
“What’s he calling out?”
“Not words. Not most of the time, anyway—sometimes I’d hear Sonia’s name or yours once or twice—mostly angry shouts or yells, or, even worse, these anguished sobs. I’ve never heard anything like it. He sounded like a dying animal.”
I glanced out the window. “The neighbors?”
She let out a sigh. “I am capable of a muffling charm, you know.”
“Right.” At least one of us was remembering she was a witch. I gazed back at his beautiful face, twisted in agony. At his matted hair. “Does he have a fever?”
“How would I know, Finn? He’s a fire demon. What’s the normal body temperature for a fire demon?” She gave him a look most reserved for small children, not demons. “I don’t think he’s actually sick. I think he’s just hurting, and if you’d been catching fire all day, you’d be sweating too.”
I walked over to the bed and swept his hair off his brow, feeling silly as I glanced up, remembering Cynthia was in the room. “I’m sorry, Cyn. He wasn’t like this last night or this morning. I couldn’t get anything out of him. If I’d have known, I’d never have asked you to stay with him.” Guilt washed over me. How could I have left him when he needed me here? Just to make myself feel useful? And for what?
She watched as my fingers trailed gently down his cheek and then over his shoulder. “It’s okay. I hated seeing him in so much pain and not being able to do anything. I tried every comfort and sleep spell I could think of.” Her gaze passed back and forth between Brett and me several times.
“What?” I could feel my face flush under her gaze.
She took a few steps forward and sat on the opposite edge of the bed. “It’s just that… well, he’s better.”
“Well, it’s only been a minute or two.”
Her eyes met mine, direct. “No, you don’t understand. It has been constant. Even when his hands weren’t bursting into flame, his body never stopped writhing. He never stopped groaning and calling out.”
“Huh.” I looked away from her stare and gazed at Brett’s face, which did seem a little more relaxed. The expression couldn’t have been described as peaceful, but he did seem more at ease. “That’s strange. I wonder what changed.”
She let out a little laugh. “Well, isn’t that obvious?”
I looked at her quizzically.
“You, silly. You.” She leaned forward and took hold of his hand. “He’s better now that you’re here. You soothe him.”
I didn’t answer her, but the thought gave me pleasure. What if she was right? Maybe he really was better now that I was here. Maybe he did need me in some way… care about me….
“And no, Finn. I didn’t call Mom and Dad. I was going to give you about twenty more minutes.”
I gave her a brotherly smile. “Thanks, sweetie. I’m sorry I put you through this today.”
She shrugged. “Well, at least I can say that I know how to extinguish a fire demon now. One that’s unconscious, at any rate.”
A little laugh escaped. Only Cynthia could evoke laughter from me right now. I looked at her, at my quiet and reserved sister. At my passionate and loyal sister. “I owe you huge, Cyn.”
Her long mahogany hair cascaded as she shook her head. “No, you don’t. The only thing you owe me is the truth.”
I glanced up at her, both of my hands wrapped around Brett’s protectively.
“Seriously, Finn. Where were you?”
We stared at each other in silence. Each waiting on the other to bend.
“I can’t tell you.”
My voice was quiet. I was surprised she was able to hear me.
The crease between her eyebrows deepened. “What do you mean you can’t tell me?”
I gave a guilty smile. “Well, let’s just say I went vampire hunting.”
Cynthia’s eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets. Her mouth moved silently for several moments. I thought maybe I’d actually rendered her speechless. Then her lips formed a begrudging smile. “Only you would try to find a murderous vampire. In the middle of the day, no less.”
“Can you think of an easier time to kill a vampire?”
Her eyes closed as she suppressed a shudder. “I should have known better than to let you be by yourself today”—she glanced at the digital clock beside the bed—“or yesterday, to be more precise.”
I gave her another sheepish grin.
“Did you have any luck?”
My head drooped. “No. Nothing. I don’t know any more about who this vampire is or where to find him.”
“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. I’d be concerned if you had any idea where to start looking for a vampire.”
I sidestepped that comment and did a poor job of stuffing the guilt of lying to Cynthia. She deserved better, but she didn’t deserve to be stressed out by learning of The Square’s existence, let alone what happened there. I resorted to diversionary tactics. As true as they were, I hoped it would steer us away from the chance I would accidentally slip up and say where I’d been. “That’s exactly it, Cyn! We need to be better prepared. We should know where to find a vampire if we need to. We have no idea what’s really out there.”
She started to object. I cut her off. “We don’t. We aren’t prepared for all the evil in the world. Not only vampires. We’re descended from demons. We are one of the most powerful witch families. We, the six of us—nine if you include Ricky and the boys—should be a force to be reckoned with. Instead, we are bakers and restaurant owners, costume shop proprietors and makeup artists. We have no idea what all is out there, and even less how to really protect ourselves and those we love.”
