“Aye, so my wife tells me. Funny”—he looked down at the dead vamp and his stupid fucking haircut—“he doesn’t look like a Raphael. More like a Chad or a—”
I sighed. “It’s a fake ID, for fuck’s sake.”
“Really?” He plucked it from between the folds and shoved it in front of my face. It was a bar-operating license, with Dead Guy’s photo on it. “Then why is his last name Marchand? Not exactly incognito, is it?”
I clasped his hand and looked at the print. Raphael Marchand. I’d just offed one of Conrad’s relatives. Hopefully a close one.
“Pocket that ID, Teddy. Let’s see what else we can find before forensics drown us in red tape.”
We scoured the whole area with jaguar eyes and bear nostrils.
Teddy Bear was rifling through the journals as I searched the cubicles, kicking over each mattress in turn. Those girls must have suffered so much on these grimy slabs of creaking springs and crimson.
“Oy! Tiger, your mate, the human, remind me of her name?”
“Serenity. Why? What you got?”
He held up a paperback-sized journal. “Looks like a certain vamp’s thoughts on her. And plenty of them.”
I strode over and took the book, my jaguar delving into the pages as I flipped. Jackpot. This told me more than any coven underling ever could have.
“I think you’re right. Fucking good job, Teddy. I’ve got to get back to my brother’s for now. Can you catch a lift back with one of the cruisers? And distract the lieutenant with some bullshit while I make a swift exit? I haven’t got the patience for that prick right now.” I slipped my upper clothes back on, grimacing at the various parts of my body that were swimming in aches and fresh scars.
“Aye, I’ll bullshit him, no bother.” He chuckled. “I learned from the best, remember?”
I hid the journal under my shirt, zipped up my vest, and wove hurriedly through the throngs of emergency workers.
Serenity deserved to see what Conrad wrote, any information he might’ve revealed that could protect her.
Hunter
An afternoon of tranquility was worth its weight in gold.
Stretching back on my favorite couch with Carrot in my lap, I sipped at chocolate-dappled decaf froth and turned another page of Seneca’s brilliant essayOn the Shortness of Lifeas I mulled over the past week’s events and interactions. While Dagger had healed, I’d made myself scarcer than usual, going into the club to school Vance in his new bar manager role.
I’d still been around for some evenings of card games and relaxing.
The past several days had been surprisingly free of craziness, but far from boring. As New Nebraska’s temperature plummeted, the heat inside my apartment was steadily rising from all the increased contact between Serenity, myself, and the others, who still proclaimed she was their mate.
Serenity passed out affection to everyone with increasing ease and frequency. I was so proud of her. But while I enjoyed watchingher confidence blossom, I still wasn’t sure how I felt about it. I loved being on the receiving end, but when someone else got a kiss or a loving touch, my chest tightened with… Murderous jealousy? No. Not even toward my brother, who had actually started making real efforts to get along with us other guys—not always with perfect success, of course. The ugly, thorny thing that wrapped itself around my ribs was more like a desperate gasp disguised as a growl—a sharp sound of outrage that would spike through my head and cry, “But I was first!”
I silenced it because everyone else was trying. And I truly loved having more company around, especially Bryce and Seb.
Bryce was the top-shelf sibling I should have had, and that hadn’t changed—despite him and Serenity sometimes curling up tight together on the couch for hours-long naps, like newborn puppies. Seb was not only an ideal roommate but a genuinely interesting guy. He could hold a conversation on almost any topic—whether it be sophisticated dialogues about politics and classic literature or the latest pop culture gossip and little-known tidbits about comic book characters. He made for great meal-time company, even if my mind sometimes wandered to the less pleasant side of his diet and how Serenity had somehow gotten wrapped up into it.
Of course, Bryce and Seb had gotten downright buddy-buddy with my peacock of a brother. Not even my twin could be a dick to someone who’d risked his life to save his own, so he and Bryce had rekindled their banter from old times. Seb was a real fanboy for the brave, streetwise detective, andwith his ego well-fed, Dagger had come around to the kid. They’d developed a habit of late-night gaming sessions on my couch after Serenity had gone to bed. I actually enjoyed grabbing a nightcap and watching them play their dungeon crawler campaign, entertained by Seb’s near-constant narration of strategy and game lore, sometimes with voice-acting for their characters.
What really kept me positive about the whole arrangement wasseeing Serenity really begin to shine, polished to radiance by all the gentle and affirming affection she’d been getting. No more flinching at a man’s sudden moves, fewer nightmares. She’d even asked me to kiss her neck last night as we’d lain curled together, whereas before, that area had been strictly off limits. For that reason alone, I’d tolerate Dagger.
We’d cross more bridges when we came to them.
In any case, I was still the one whose bed she slept in, the one who got to hear her groggy, happy thoughts as she drifted off in my arms. She’d gushed over our day feeding the ducks, and now each night, she’d giddily talk about where the five of us should go tomorrow. Planning those day trips would roll into telling me all the places she wanted to go, the landmarks and art she wanted to see, and with each passing night, I knew with more surety that when she left, I’d leave everything here and go with her if she’d have me. But that was the kicker, wasn’t it? Would she want any piece of New Nebraska following her into the new life she dreamed about?
My phone thrummed with a call against my thigh, and I slipped it out to see it was Bryce. I clinked my coffee cup down on its saucer and answered. “Hey, Bryce Wayne, what’s up? You in the Batmobile again?” From the horn toots and engine revs, I could tell he was stuck in traffic. “When you gonna get yourself a helicopter and escape the rabble?”
“I’ve already got a helicopter, wise ass,” he replied. “And a jet. Got them last year. I can’t find any pilots I trust as much as Gerald though. I didn’t tell you?”
“Ah yeah, I think I remember you mentioning that in passing now. You’re a spoiled, rich fuck, you know that?”
