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I did a quick search. “According to the Internet, Almshouse Cemetery was established by Cook County in 1861. It’s where the county buried people without other options—who weren’t claimed by their family, who died in epidemics, who couldn’t be identified after the Great Fire, what have you.”
“Is it still in use?”
I paused to read further. “Only in a limited capacity. There are a few family plots, and family members are still interred there. Once those spaces are full, it will be closed to new burials.”
Edging toward creeped out, I put the phone away again. “Is grave desecration something you’ve run into before?”
“Not personally, although it has existed as long as humans have,” Ethan said, one hand on the wheel, his gaze intent on the dark streets. “Graves are robbed in times of peace, in times of war. In the interest of greed and science. But in the middle of Chicago?” He shook his head. “Not to my recollection.”
; “I’m not sure why you’re here,” I said when Sarah refused to move, her chin lifted in defiance. “You clearly don’t respect us, yet you’ve accepted my mother’s invitation and her hospitality. You’ve come into her house with prejudice and hatred, and you’ve spilled your vitriol in her home. That’s fantastically rude.”
Sarah’s mouth opened, forming a perfect O of shock in the silence that followed my statement. She probably wasn’t used to being challenged. Too bad for her, because I wasn’t done.
“As is common knowledge, which you’re apparently choosing to ignore, vampires are allergic to sunlight. They are nocturnal, and their existence isn’t limited to what you do or don’t see of them. To answer the second accusation, vampires aren’t entitled to government assistance because we aren’t human. So it’s literally impossible that your neighbors are receiving ‘handouts.’”
Splotches of color rose on Sarah’s cheeks. She opened her mouth to respond, but I held up a finger. “You’ve said your piece; I’ll say mine. If you want to be prejudiced and hateful, you might as well own it. Don’t make excuses based on incorrect information.”
“Well,” my mother said a moment later, the word echoing across the quiet room, and looked at Sarah. “I believe it’s time for you to go.” Skilled as an entertainer of guests, my mother sounded perfectly pleasant.
“I am here, and I have been generous, and I am appalled by this treatment. Joshua will hear about what’s gone on here today.”
“He’ll certainly hear about it from me,” my mother said.
Sarah shuffled through the crowd, disappearing toward the front of the house.
There were undoubtedly guests who agreed with me, but they hadn’t spoken up. To my mind, that was as good as condoning her behavior. While it was unlikely she’d change her opinion, I’d still fight the good fight.
Sometimes, that was the best thing—and the only thing—you could do.
2
The rest of the shower was much less dramatic. When it was over, and we’d said goodbye to friends and relatives and thanked my mother and sister lavishly, we climbed back into Ethan’s most recent automotive obsession, his Audi R8, for the return trip to Hyde Park.
“Sorry about Aunt Sarah.”
“There are a million Aunt Sarahs in the world,” Ethan said, and slid me a glance. “You handled it with aplomb.”
I grinned at him. “I was doing you.”
His eyes widened. “I beg your pardon?”
“I knew you wouldn’t say anything in front of my family—your control’s too good. So I imagined what you’d have told her and said that.”
Ethan opened his mouth, closed it again. “Is that a compliment?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” I said with a smile, patting his leg. “But I do respect your ability to throw shade at an asshole.”
“Thank you, I think.” There was amusement in his voice, which was what I’d intended.
My cell phone, slipped into a slim pocket of my dress, began to vibrate. When I glanced at the phone, the number was familiar. And I had a pretty good feeling this wasn’t a social call.
“This is Merit.”
