by Domino Finn
"Yup!" Emily's response was jubilant.
"Ay, you have such a beautiful family."
"Thank you."
I cleared my throat. "How long has this been going on?"
Everyone looked at me except for Gavin.
Milena brushed her hair behind her ear. "What?"
"This." I pointed. "You two."
Milena and Gavin looked at each other and smiled. "Just a few weeks. You know, Cisco, we hardly talk anymore. If you picked up the phone once in a while you'd know."
"Sorry... just... busy..." I mumbled under my breath. "Vampires."
Everybody blinked.
"Anyway," said Milena, "it's no big deal. Nothing like five years!" She turned to Emily and they squealed at each other like hyperactive marmots.
"She gets like this with other women," muttered Evan.
We left them to their conversation and took the opportunity to talk shop. I filled him in on Special Agent Rita Bell and her suspicions. He mentioned troubling crime trends—after years of violence in Miami decreasing, it had finally spiked.
"I should powder my nose before the food comes," said Milena eventually.
She left Gavin alone at the table. He just stared at his recently filled wine glass. I wanted to see how long he could keep it up so didn't say anything, but Emily had a heart and broke the ice.
"So, Gavin, how'd the two of you meet?"
His face brightened. "Actually, it's a funny story. I was doing her taxes."
Emily nodded.
"Last year I wanted to ask her out but never did, so this year I did."
We all followed along, waiting for the punchline.
"That's about it," he said.
Evan sniggered and then immediately covered his mouth and coughed to mask his laugh. Emily chuckled encouragingly. "That is funny, Gavin."
I rolled my eyes. "Hilarious."
He relaxed a bit, missing the sarcasm. "Milena's great. How do you guys know her?" He asked the table but looked at me.
I worked my jaw. "Long story."
"You're childhood friends, right?"
Evan snorted. I glared at him to stay out of this. "Kind of, but not really. She was friends with my sister. Where's our food? I'm starving." I went for another sip of red.
Lucky for me, Emily was good at small talk. She kept the mood festive until Milena returned. Evan rode me a bit about my bad mood, but told me a couple of actually funny stories to get my mind off things. I realized I was being an asshole and didn't want to do that to my two favorite friends on their special night. I joined in the conversation and, if you don't mind me saying, was a bit suave myself. I could be a charmer.
The food came out picturesque. It was delicious and everybody was having a great time. Even me, I had to admit. But this wasn't just about food and drinking and "funny" stories. Not for the merry couple and not for me. So I found the right moment as dinner was winding down and the band took a break. I raised my wine.
"Everybody," I announced, "I have something to say."
I tilted my glass a bit to draw attention and everybody picked up theirs. Everyone except for Gavin. He hadn't taken a sip out of it all night, and while I was fine with people deciding not to drink, I did resent the fact that he'd taken wine from the bottle—from someone else's glass—because he was too polite to say otherwise. But putting that aside because I was in my happy place, I couldn't have the man disrespect my moment.
"Gavin," I said firmly, "this is the time when you raise your wine glass."
He looked around, unsure, but Milena nudged him and he obliged.
I nodded thanks to her, flashed a mini-scowl at my new arch-enemy, and then turned my attention on Evan and Emily.
"You could say we've all led interesting lives," I started. Evan snorted at the understatement of the year. "Seriously. Since I first disappeared, and since I first returned, we've had a rough go of things."
Evan helpfully spoke up. "You could say trouble follows you."
I eyed him pointedly. "You could, if you wanted to ruin a perfectly good toast." He laughed, and my expression sobered. "I'm just saying that it means a lot for me to host your fifth anniversary tonight. Thanks for trusting me."
Evan clapped my shoulder and Emily smiled.
"I wanted to show you how much I love you guys. You're more than friends—you're family. And I'm really happy you found each other."
Evan grimaced at my sentimentality and spoke like he was talking to a pet. "We love you too, buddy."
Emily poked him. "He's trying to act cool but he means it, Cisco. We both love you." She looked around. "And this is an amazing restaurant you brought us to."
"You see?" I said, feeling validated. "I didn't let you down."
Milena beamed. "Wow, Cisco, I've never seen the sappy side of you before."
"I can be sappy," I said defensively. "But I'm not a sap."
She giggled. "Don't think you'll ever be accused of that."
I ran my eyes over the table. These were my people. And Gavin. But I focused on my people.
"Enough sentiment," I concluded. "I want to thank you, congratulate you on your five years, and wish you many more. Salud."
We clinked glasses and drank them down. Gavin just pretended, but that was okay. He wasn't part of this. Milena laughed and took over his wine glass after hers ran dry.
And damn if I wished I was sitting right next to her. I caught Gavin staring at her cleavage as she laughed heartily. He wasn't being rude—it was out of his control. Milena was, to put it delicately, totally stacked. And to see her in that dress with that bounce... well, let me just say I was jealous of Gavin right now.
Evan leaned over. "The look on your face."
"But you see what I'm working with here?"
"I don't blame you one bit."
The waiter appeared and handed dessert menus around.
"Oh, I don't want to do that," said Milena. "If I eat another bite after that steak I'm gonna get fat."
"Screw that," said Emily, voraciously reading over her options.
Milena shook her head. "Look at you. Happily married with two kids and thin and eating dessert. I'm envious."
"He's not perfect. You know he named our son after a character in a Bruce Willis movie."
They laughed.
Evan shrugged. "I think John McClane Cross has a nice ring to it."
Now it was my turn to console him. "A damn fine ring, bro."
As dessert arrived the band picked up again. Milena pulled Gavin to the dance floor where a few couples were sharing a laugh. I drowned my sorrow in butterscotch pudding while the married couple split a crème brûlée.
I set my spoon down. "See how he's hanging on her every move? He's infatuated with her."
Evan snickered. "You can hardly blame the guy with her wearing that dress." Emily sharpened a laser stare at him. "What, am I not allowed to see what's in front of my eyes?"
I shook my head. "And he's so polite about everything." After analyzing the situation, I nodded. "They haven't had sex yet."
"What?" exclaimed Emily.
"Can't you see it? He's putting on his first-date act."
"She said they've been dating a few weeks."
"Doesn't matter. He's still stuck at the starting line."
She arched a skeptical eyebrow. "I don't know. It doesn't look like an act."
Evan grunted while he swallowed a bite and cut in. "You're just not paying attention, honey. The poor guy's clearly afraid to let loose and spoil his chances. I'm with Cisco."
I chanced a peek at the dancing partners. It didn't look romantic to me. "What a softy. I wonder what she sees in him anyway?"
Evan laughed. "Dude, she only brought him here to make you jealous. One dinner and look how up in arms you are."
I pouted. "I'm not jealous."
Emily tagged herself back into the conversation. "Okay, Cisco, I may not be clued in to the dating games you boys pat yourselves on the back over, but I can totally tell a jealous man
when I see one. And you... are... stewing in it." She considered Gavin's awkward dancing. "Anyway, I think you might be right. She works in a dance club so she probably tries extra hard to be a good girl." She turned to her husband. "It's the same reason Cisco hasn't gotten any yet." Evan broke into overly boisterous laughter.
I blushed and looked around. "How do you know I haven't?"
Emily was merciless. "Please."
Evan's face slowly sobered up. "Are you kidding me, brother? You mean you haven't... Since you got back..."
"I've been kinda busy." My frustration was evident.
Emily feigned a bimbo voice. "But you're such a stud now with your new muscles."
Evan crossed his arms. "And I'm not allowed to talk about cleavage."
She laughed and kissed his cheek.
"You can only make it better by talking like that when we get home."
She rolled her eyes but I chuckled. "You brought that on yourself," I told her. "Guys like sex voices. You shouldn't have revealed the talent if you didn't intend to use it."
She pressed her lips together. "I'm not gonna do the sex voice."
"But it's my anniversary!" whined Evan.
"Besides," she said, "we're talking about Cisco's, uh, dearth of hookups." Their eyes turned to me again.
I sighed. "Don't fret over old Cisco. I've had a couple of... dalliances. I thought one of them was gonna kill me."
"You see?" said Evan to his wife. "He knows what he's doing." He turned back to me. "But it also proves that trouble does follow you."
I was about to object when the waiter interrupted with another bottle of wine. We were all just about finished up, and I presumed we were about to check out.
"Did you...?" I asked Evan. He just shrugged and shook his head. "I'm sorry," I told the waiter, "I'm pretty sure we didn't order that."
A bus boy set five small glasses on the table and the waiter presented me with the label. "A bottle of port, sir. Compliments of the house on your special occasion." He nodded toward a table in the back corner. It was the only table in the room on a raised platform, with a good view of venue and stage but also adequate privacy, like a VIP section.
I squinted. "I, uh, who is that?"
The waiter poured all five glasses and set the bottle on the table. He leaned to my ear. "It's the owner, sir." Then he disappeared.
Emily's eyes widened. "You know the owner?"
My face scrunched as I picked up a glass. "Not me. Maybe he's a friend of the police?"
Evan shook his head. "No one I know." He tasted the strong wine. "This is pretty good."
"It tastes old," I agreed.
Emily did too and she was something of a wine connoisseur. "Cisco, I hate to spoil the magic, but how did you manage a reservation and fantastic table at one of the trendiest restaurants in Miami?"
I clinked my glasses with theirs in a standard free-booze maneuver. "No magic. I just asked really nice and then handed them a fat stack of cash."
"Look at Scarface over here," joked Evan.
"It beats expensive clutter." We sipped the port and glanced at the VIP table a few times. "So what's the procedure here? Are we supposed to go over and thank him?"
Evan frowned. "I guess we kinda have to."
"Watch out," snapped Emily, positioning her glass in front of her mouth to hide the fact she was speaking. "He's walking over right now."
We all simultaneously straightened and then relaxed so as not to appear wound up. A man stopped at our table wearing a white tuxedo jacket with a black collar, pocket highlights, bow tie, and pants. He looked rich, smug, and European right off the bat, with dark-brown hair plastered close to his head. Despite the standoffish persona, his eyes and smile were disarming.
"Good evening," he said respectfully. I detected a slight French accent but figured he'd lived stateside enough to normalize it. "And congratulations to the wonderful couple." He noted their slight alarm and said, "The waiter informed me."
"Thank you," said Emily. "The port is delicious. It's very nutty."
He took her hand and kissed it. "You have good taste. It has a wonderful color. Rather like blood."
His eyes flicked to me and I focused on Emily's hand in his. His fingernails were black.
I rose to my feet but didn't make any sudden moves while he was so close to her. Evan noticed my alarm and went still.
"Who are you?" I demanded.
He released Emily and offered his hand. "I'm Leverett Beaumont, of the Clan Beaumont, currently pledged to the Obsidian March."
Chapter 16
Everybody was silent as I shook the restaurant owner's hand. It was a long shake, noticeably more tense than my go with Gavin, no doubt stemming from the very real possibility of ending in bloodshed.
"Cisco," tempered Emily, "is this part of your big night out?"
"Surprise?" I grimaced. "More like fallout from this morning. And afternoon." I released my grip but kept my eyes lasered on Beaumont. "He's a vampire."
Our host's eyes fluttered. "Here I am, being all debonair about it, and you go and say it out loud." He surveyed my company. "Is he always this blunt?"
Evan ground his teeth. "Blunt instruments break bones."
Milena clambered to the table out of breath. "More wine!" She grabbed a glass of port and downed it entirely too fast before noticing everyone at the table staring at Leverett. "Who's this?"
I growled at him. "You come over here and openly threaten me and my friends? That's a bad move, Lev. I have zero qualms about getting into it with you and the rest of your clan right in the middle of your restaurant."
He laughed it off. "Really, Cisco, it's not like that at all. For one, I believe it was you who came to my restaurant."
Milena rolled her eyes. "Of all the rotten luck."
"Quite," he agreed. "But there's no need for hostilities. Hence the port." He picked up Gavin's unused glass, swirled it, and took a sip. "It feels nice and viscous in your mouth, does it not?"
"Talk about blunt," muttered Emily. "What's debonair about that?"
Leverett Beaumont cleared his throat. "I admittedly get carried away sometimes." He set the glass down. "May I invite you on a tour of the kitchen?"
"Yeah, right," said Evan. "And make it more convenient for you to separate our blood from our bodies?"
Gavin strolled to his seat with a confused look. Despite everybody standing and wired for fight or flight, he absentmindedly slipped between Beaumont and me and returned to his seat. Beaumont eyed him inquisitively.
"Don't mind Gavin," I said. "He's not familiar with... your culture."
Gavin turned to us, befuddled. "Are you making another toast or something?"
"Keep it down, Gavin," said Beaumont. "I just need to talk to you, Cisco, but your friends are welcome if you like. I guarantee everyone's safety."
Milena's eyes darted to her date and she chuckled nervously. "Cisco's big on kitchen safety," she explained.
"Like your word means anything," I returned.
"If you knew me I'd be offended. Keep in mind: I'm pledged to the March, but I am not one of them."
"Safety march," whispered Milena.
I frowned. "I'll listen to what you have to say, but keep in mind the only reason I'm going is because I'm confident I can handle whatever you throw at me."
"Fine. This way, please."
I turned to tell my friends to get out of here, but Evan beat me to the punch. "Don't say it, Cisco. I'm coming."
Emily nodded. "Me too."
I almost objected, but the truth was I didn't mind them backing me up. "Okay, then." We followed Leverett.
"Watch my purse!" called Milena to Gavin. She tossed it into his lap and gave chase.
I grinned at that.
We stepped through the swinging door into a bustling kitchen. "Watch your step," cautioned Leverett, leading us over a series of rubber mats and into a back hall. As soon as we had some measure of privacy, Evan leaned down and pulled a pistol from an ankle holster.
<
br /> "On our anniversary date?" chided Emily.
He shrugged. "Anniversary date with Cisco."
She seemed to take that as an acceptable answer.
Whether our host saw the gun or not, he continued ahead unconcerned. We walked past a stock room and turned into a wine cellar. "Get out," he ordered a sommelier. The man rushed away as if his life depended on it. Leverett Beaumont turned to us, leaned casually against a shelf, and steepled his fingers over his stomach. Something about the dim lighting made his eyes shine like a predator's.
"May I speak freely?" he cordially asked. He eyed Evan, Emily, and Milena.
"Everyone here understands the situation."
"Speak for yourself," said Evan. "What does this Obsidian March want with you?"
"It's about the bar fight in the morning. I was tracking a lost little girl. The one from Fran's school." Emily covered her mouth in surprise. "Turns out these were the guys who killed her."
Beaumont shook his head. "Not me."
"Um," chanced Milena, raising a timid hand. "If everybody's asking questions, I still don't know what that guy is." She pointed to Beaumont like he wasn't right next to us.
"He's a vampire," I said. Milena squeaked. "Can we just listen to what the man has to say?" I asked. Everyone nodded.
"Thank you," he said. "First off, you should understand my position. I am acting only as a middleman here. I harbor no hostilities toward you and I've given you no cause to do so with me. Can we agree on that much?"
"So far." I worked my jaw. "How connected are you to the Obsidian March?"
He nodded at the reasonable question. "There are many vampire clans among us, but several of the most powerful congregated into the Obsidian March. It's a hegemony, of sorts. The only way our kind can compete with the silvan circles. Even then, we're banished to the far reaches of the Nether."
"You don't look banished to me."
"Granted, the silvans play politics in the underworld while we prefer to do business topside. Can you blame us?"
"For killing kids?" snapped Emily.
He raised a calm hand. "Please. Do not conflate me with those savages. My clan doesn't regard humans as livestock. We're not leeches in this world. We strive toward full cooperation."
