“How’s things? That’s an interesting question, actually. Let’s see. I’ve been stalked, threatened, chased, almost abducted, shot, and involved in a high-speed aerial duel.” I blink at him. “That’s how things are.”
“Shot?” shouts Mom. She jumps up and runs into the kitchen. “When did you get shot? Why didn’t you tell me!?”
“Umm. Last night. And I didn’t tell you because it wasn’t a big deal. Do you want me to tell you every time I stub my toe?”
Mom fusses over me like she’s checking a six-year-old for ticks. “Where? Oh my God, Sarah. You were shot?”
Dad appears in the doorjamb, amused at my mother’s freak out.
I pull my shirt up to expose my stomach. “Right here. Already healed back to normal. It’s not a big deal, Mom. Only a bullet. Went straight through me.”
She emits this noise that’s part frustration, part worry. “I don’t want you getting shot!”
“Yeah, Mom. I know you don’t like body piercings.”
Dalton snickers, as does Dad.
“This isn’t funny, Sarah!” Mom stares at me caught between wanting to cry and screaming in anger—so she does neither.
“I’m fine, Mom.” I hug her. “Please relax. Guns can’t kill me.”
“Not to split hairs but…” Dalton puts a finger to his lips, pausing. “Well, I suppose the ones that could kill us would be considered ‘cannons,’ not guns.”
“You’re not helping.” I give him side eye, then look at Mom again. “The pain stopped in an hour. Stubbed toes hurt longer than that.”
She squeezes me. “Sorry. You know this stuff is a bit much for me to handle sometimes.”
“Yeah, Mom. I understand. And believe me, getting shot isn’t on my list of fun diversionary activities. A total attack out of the blue. These guys tried to shoot me in the head and dump me into a trunk to kidnap me.”
Mom goes pale. “That’s murder, Sarah.”
“No… shooting a vampire in the head is like using chloroform. Just a knockout.”
“Should you report it to the police? Someone tried to mug you?” asks Dad.
“No. It’s vampire stuff.” I spin to face Dalton. “Which, I’m about to get an explanation for. What happened?”
“Nothing much. I owed a favor to someone and it got called in, so I headed down to LA to help them with a problem.” He whistles innocently. “So, I was thinking I’d ask if you’d mind me spending a few days here. Aurélie’s still looking out for you, yes?”
“Yeah.” I smirk. “What did you steal this time?”
He holds his hands up. “Nothing, I promise. There is no legerdemain involved whatsoever.”
“Really? So who are you hiding from then? And why are vampires coming after me?”
Dalton scratches his head. “You’re sure this is this my doing?”
I set my hands on my hips and lean at him. This, of course, gets Dad grinning because it’s the same pose Mom uses on the littles when they mess up. “Whatever you did in Los Angeles has really pissed some vampires off. Enough that they came here thinking I knew where you were. When that didn’t work, they tried to kidnap me. Still don’t know if they planned to use me as bait for you or if what Glim said about blood magic is true.”
“Blood magic? That’s just wonderful. I need wine.” Mom walks over to the fridge and opens it. “That green bottle is still wine, right, not blood?”
“Yeah. I don’t keep blood around at all, especially in the fridge with the littles here. Sierra would get halfway through the bottle before complaining that the grape juice tastes weird.”
Mom gags. Even Dad grimaces. Dalton chuckles.
While Mom pours herself some red wine, Dad walks over to grab a glass as well.
“Oh dear,” mutters Dalton. “That means it didn’t work.”
“What didn’t work?” I ask.
“It’s somewhat complicated.” He leans on the island counter, offering a roguish smile.
“Everything is complicated. C’mon. Spill.” I shrug my backpack off and set it on the floor by the wall.
“Perhaps we should discuss this downstairs?” asks Dalton. “Your mother doesn’t seem to be ready for conversations like this.”
Mom holds her glass up in toast. “I have wine now, I’m good.”
“Okay then.” Dalton stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Los Angeles is in the midst of a power struggle among vampires. There are a handful of elders who have each amassed groups of loyalists, a small cabal of elders who work together in a sort of shadow government, and a whole bunch of anarchists. Those in the cabal are trying to persuade the other elder factions to ally with them to keep order among our kind. However, they don’t regard the smaller packs as worthy of the same courtesy.”
“Let me guess. Lack of courtesy equals open warfare.” I fidget. “Show fealty or die?”
“Something of that nature. An old acquaintance of mind realized I was in the area and asked me to do her a small favor.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Someone you ticked off a few decades ago gave you a choice between seeing the sun again or doing her a favor?”
Dalton emits a humorless laugh. “Well, it wasn’t quite that bad. But, amazing how long some people can hold grudges. She had a good point though. This lot did deserve to be thinned. Hazard to the innocent. Stray bullets going where they don’t belong. However, to make a long story short, Simone and her friends had been quibbling over territory with this other group. She saw an opportunity to shift the power balance and it required my unique talents.”
“So you did steal something?”
He chuckles. “No. I technically gave them something.”
Dad sips from his wine glass. “You snuck into their lair and planted a bomb, didn’t you?”
I sigh. “Dad, don’t be ridiculous. This isn’t a D&D campaign.”
“Well, actually.” Dalton gestures at him. “The man’s almost correct.”
“Hah!” Dad wags his glass at me. “Never underestimate the mind of a master tactician… or what her husband thinks.”
Mom chuckles, nearly spraying wine everywhere.
“Almost? Wait, so you did bomb them? That’s a good reason they’re upset.” I rake both hands through my hair. “Argh. And why didn’t this Simone chick do that?”
“She’s Old Guard. Not exactly the stealthy sort. Plus, she required plausible deniability.” Dalton clasps the lapels of his tweed blazer. “I was able to get in with a giant incendiary device, then leave undetected.”
“You dragged Rush Limbaugh into a vampire den?” asks Dad. “That had to be hard on your back.”
Dalton cracks up. “See, two of the smaller vampire groups out there have been hostile to each other since the 1800s. Of course, things have evolved—and somewhat degenerated. It’s not so much landowners and miners going at it these days. Basically, they’re like any other LA gangs now, only blood and fangs instead of drugs and guns.”
“They have guns. And you know they sell drugs to pay for their war.”
He gives me this ‘well I suppose’ sort of eye roll. “Yes, but they’re not using drugs.”
“You still haven’t told me exactly what you did.”
He whistles innocently. “I’m sneaky.”
“Yes, I’m aware,” I deadpan.
“There may have been an incendiary device planted in a rather inconvenient place. Alas, it didn’t quite go off as big as expected, so several of them may have survived.”
“Can confirm,” I mutter.
“Alas, it appears that the vampires who survived have a slight grudge against said device’s origin.” He offers a weak shrug. “Hadn’t intended that. Rather shocked those sods have shown up here.”
“Ugh.” I sigh at the ceiling. “You didn’t get out as undetected as you thought. They know you did it and they are coming after me to get to you.”
“Yes, well. That’s why I was hoping to take advantage of Aurélie’s protection. This house is off limits.” The smile
he flashes at the parents is so ‘bad boy charming’ it would probably make most people forgive him for burning their house down.
I’m less inclined to fall for it, but he did save my ass. “There’s one small problem. The LA vampires don’t care about her decree.”
“That may be true, but she wouldn’t stand by and permit anyone to threaten you or your family.” Dalton smiles.
“No, she wouldn’t. She already ended one of them.” I slice my hand across the air in an ‘away with you’ gesture, mimicking her beheading slash. “In like two seconds. What if she objects to you being here and tells you to go?”
He flashes that grin again. “I’ll just need to explain things to her sufficiently. I can be quite charming.”
I burst into laughter so hard that I end up hanging on my father not to fall over.
Dalton raises an eyebrow.
“No… no…” I wave him off for a few seconds until the laughter stops. “Sure, you’re charming. But this is Aurélie we’re talking about. Charm?”
“Ahh.” He cringes. “Yes, you’re right. That woman could turn the head of Michelangelo’s David. However, even if they don’t abide her protection order, she could wipe them out if she cared to. Especially here, out of their territory and in her domain.”
The parents exchange a look, shrug, and drain their wine glasses together.
“They know you gave me the Transference. According to Glim, that means they got your blood somehow. This is bad.”
He stares down like a scolded schoolboy. “Sarah. If my presence here is a threat to you or your family, I’ll bugger off.”
There doesn’t seem to be any sign of Coralie around screaming at me to watch out, so maybe having him here won’t bring pain and suffering on the people I love the most. The instant his being here does turn into a problem, I’ll ask him to go.
“I’m going to regret this, but I can’t kick you out. After all, you did save my life… sorta.”
Dalton looks up in shock, but he covers his surprise fast. “Sorry, lass. If I could’ve moved any faster…”
“Yeah. I know. You’ve said that already.” I throw an arm around him. “Just promise me if something happens here, you’ll do everything you can to keep my family safe.”
“Aye.” He nods, but a trace of guilt in his expression worries me.
I narrow my eyes at him, wondering what he isn’t telling me.
Relax, luv. Not what you think, says Dalton inside my head.
“What is it then?”
“Well, Sarah looks tired. Has a bunch of schoolwork to do.” Dalton nabs my backpack in one hand, my elbow in the other, and pulls me toward the basement stairs. “We’ll get out of your hair.”
Ugh. I roll my eyes. Clearly, he doesn’t want to share something in front of the parents. It’s kind of amazing, actually. A guy who looks like he’s twenty-five or so is escorting me down to my bedroom and the ’rents aren’t freaking out. Pretty sure they can tell there’s absolutely no chance anything inappropriate will happen between us. You’d think a vampire’s relationship with the one who made them would be somewhat like a parent and child. Nope. At least not for me. He’s more like my slacker older brother who never quite has anything work out for him and keeps coming home to beg money off the parents. Hard to process that he’s really 161 years old. Ugh. Does that mean I’m going to feel like I’m eighteen for the rest of time, or is Dalton special?
However, I can’t complain. My sire is way better than Glim’s. Eek.
Once we’re in my bedroom with the door shut, Dalton lets his guard down. He hands me my backpack, then slouches a bit, no longer wearing the confidence of a Disney pirate like a tailored suit. “I mentioned a vampire named Simone earlier.”
“Yeah?” I set the backpack on my desk.
“Quite a while ago, we ran in the same circles. Some other vampires in the North End didn’t have much use for us Whitechapel folks.”
I point at him. “If you tell me that you’re Jack the Ripper…”
“No.” He chuckles. “And no, he wasn’t a vampire. That mess happened during my sixth year as an undead. Wanted to find the bastard, but never quite managed it. But, around that time, we had a punch up at least twice a week. Sometimes things got… spirited. The reason Simone’s carryin’ a grudge is on account of me buggerin’ off when I shouldn’t have buggered off.”
I sit in my computer chair. “You got her hurt?”
“Emotionally. Think about those blokes from LA comin’ after ya. An’ you’re sittin’ there watchin’ an upstairs window in the back. Twenty of the bastards come charging at ya.”
“Oh. You ran.”
He chuckles. “Aye. Like bloody hell I ran. Not too long a vampire myself at that point, and them blokes would’ve been the end of it. They got inta the ol’ warehouse we’d taken over. Torched the place. This other chap, Jameson, didn’t make it out. They said a Molotov smashed straight over his bean. Burned him to a cinder.”
“Sorry. Close friend?”
“Not entirely. I can’t say I lost any personal sleep over the man’s death… but he and Simone were lovers.”
“Oh.” I exhale. “She blames you for his death.”
“Aye. ’Course, she’s right to do so. I might’ve been able to hold that window for a little while, but for sure it would’ve been me on fire instead of him.” He sits on the edge of my bed. “And, well, he might’ve been the revenge boyfriend.”
“Revenge b—wait. You and Simone?”
“Quite past tense. Even at that point.”
“You cheated on her.”
He opens his mouth to say something, closes it. Raises a finger, lowers his arm. Sighs. “I suppose there isn’t a point to making a justification.”
“Really isn’t any justification for cheating, but go ahead. I’m curious to see how you tried to weasel out of it.”
“Didn’t have any feelings for the woman she caught me with. Just a job. Information was often worth a lot of coin back then. I didn’t think of it any different than an actor playing a character pretending to be in love with an actress playing his wife. All I wanted of that one was secrets. Simone only saw a moment and wouldn’t let me explain.”
Hmm. That’s a little different. Spies sleep with the enemy sometimes even if they’re married. Still bothers me, but maybe a little less than a fling for the heck of it. So she gets a revenge boyfriend who dies because Dalton chickened out. Now that guilty look makes sense. My asking him to help protect my family reminded him of the last time someone asked him to defend a place.
“Aye,” says Dalton, a bit over a whisper, reacting to my thoughts. “I’ll not make that choice again. I’m a touch more comfortable with who I am now, and there’s sprogs about.”
“Huh? What do my brother’s pets have to do with anything?”
He laughs. “No, luv. Sprogs, not frogs. Means children. A puffed up arse of a revenge shag is one thing, but I’ll not leave your littles to face my problems.”
It’s beyond weird seeing Dalton so serious. History says otherwise, but I’m inclined to trust him.
18
Soft Spot
Our basement has two rooms that can be completely closed off from the sun: my bedroom and the space with the water heater and furnace. I couldn’t even make Scott sleep in the machine closet since it’s filthy, noisy, and cramped. Okay, that’s a bad example. I wouldn’t even let him in the house. Still. Dalton’s my roommate for the near future.
Dad even brought a cot down from the attic for him, which we set up on the opposite wall from my bed. It’s not all that awkward sharing my room with him. For one thing, being my sire, he already basically has full access to my thoughts. If he wanted to, he could eavesdrop on me in the shower or whatever. For another thing, he doesn’t wake up until the sun is down. Granted, in November, that’s only giving me a head start of about two hours or so. But, it’s plenty to get out of bed and dressed before he’s remotely aware of anything. No privacy concerns at all since
I’m sharing a room with a corpse at that point.
Kinda puts new meaning to the phrase dead tired.
When I wake up Wednesday afternoon, I hit the basement shower and spend a few minutes talking to Coralie—meaning talking at the mirror hoping she heard me—and asking her to please give me a warning if my family is in danger. She doesn’t appear or say anything back, which hopefully means there’s nothing to worry about and not simply that the mirror is having connectivity issues. Maybe I should upgrade it to a talk anywhere plan?
After taking some pictures and notes for my cheese mold project, I pass a few hours getting my work done for comp sci and calculus today. A few minutes before five that evening, Dalton’s corpselike appearance warms back to normal and he sits up.
“Evening, luv.”
“Hey.”
He looks around, shaking his head.
“What?”
“I’ve awoken in some truly strange places during my life, but a teen girl’s bedroom hasn’t been one of those places for a very long time.”
I chuckle. “So what are your plans?”
“Oh, I figure I’ll mostly lurk about here, keep your parents company. Perhaps play uncle to the sprogs if need be. Might tip out for a bite later.” He pats himself down. “Oi, you’ve seen my lighter?”
“You smoke?”
“Only when lit on fire.”
“Not funny.”
“Hilarious.” He winks. “I carry it around for utility purposes, but it’s buggered off.”
I gaze around, but don’t notice anything obviously missing. “Things have been vanishing randomly around here for a while now. No idea what’s causing it.”
“You’ve an imp in the place.” Dalton eyes the ceiling.
“It isn’t Blix. He’s behaving himself. Besides, imps don’t play subtle pranks like that.”
“I’ll take your word for that. Think one of your siblings nicked it?”
Ordinary Problems of a College Vampire (Vampire Innocent Book 7) Page 20
