Page 52 of Nosfer-Meet You

Juliette lifts an eyebrow as I dig around in my jacket pocket, then pull out a necklace. The crimson orb hangs from a silver chain, and I hold it up for her to admire.

“May I?” I ask.

Juli’s eyes widen, and she leans forward to give me access to her neck. I clasp the necklace around her throat and smile. Yeah. Just as I thought. It looks perfect on her. She thumbs the orb adorned with diamonds and an iconic cross on its top.

“It’s stunning, but what is it?” she asks.

I take her hands into mine and squeeze them. “It’s Vivienne Westwood. One of her iconic pendant necklaces. I wanted you to have something from my homeland, as well, since you gave me so much of yours.”

Juliette smiles at me, then clasps my cheeks in her hands before brushing her lips against mine. I wrap my arm around her and hold her close to my chest as the bus takes us away … to our new life in Pinecrest Hills.

Chapter 28

Juliette

PEST CONTROL

The town is nice enough. It isn’t France, but it will do for the time being. When Scotty and I step foot in the Hills, as the local denizens call it, we make a beeline for a dusty motel. Fortunately, the people who reside here mind their own business and do not ask many questions. Good for us, but we quickly realize there is a downside. The motel manager is a werebear and thus unable to be enthralled.

“Those tricks won’t work on us,” the grizzled man says. I suspect he’s in his late forties, with graying hair and a beard so long it would put Santa Claus to shame. “But I can tell you two are in some trouble. Coming from Sugardove, are you?”

Scotty nods and leans against the reception desk. “There’s … an uptick in Templar and Helsing activity.”

The man’s jaw sets as he looks between us with his bleary eyes. It’s then I notice one of his eyes is completely opaque, with a scar over it. Not entirely surprising, considering what he is. I say nothing in response and wait for the man’s judgment.

“Now, we have a few rules here,” he says. “Which you two will follow if you want to remain here. Or else.”

It doesn’t take much imagination to understand what the ‘or else’ is. We both nod in unison.

“No biting the shifters,” he says, his voice taking on a steely edge. “Ever. You want to eat, you find another way.”

“Understood,” Scotty says quickly.

“I mean it. We catch whiff that you bloodsuckers even thought about touching one of our pack, we will tie you to a stake in the middle of town and let you two burn in the sun. We may be understanding of your predicament, but we aren’t pushovers.”

Scotty’s throat bobs. “Got it, sir. Anything else?”

He nods. “Yeah. I assume you don’t have any money. So, I’m willing to cut you two a deal. You take care of our pests here in town, we’ll let you stay as long as you want.”

“Seems easy enough,” Scotty says, looking at me. I shrug. “What kind of pests? You got a rat problem? I guess that would kill two birds with one stone. We’ll avoid starvation and get a room out of it.”

“No,” the werebear says, and crosses his arms over his barrel chest. This guy is enormous. Bigger than any human I’ve ever seen back in the city. “Our pests are … a bit bigger than rats. We have a problem with some harpies roosting in the cliffs. You take ’em out, we’ll be happy with you two.”

My brows knit together. Harpies are never seen in the city for obvious reasons. They prefer to stick to cliffs and caves. “Wait, why have you not taken care of them yourselves?”

The werebear’s eyes narrow as he addresses me. “We aren’t setting you up to fail. Don’t you two worry ’bout that. They roost up too damn high. Their nests are deeper in the Hills and up in the cliffs. Figure you two can probably fly, right?” He looks between the two of us, and I frown. “Unless the stories about your kind aren’t true after all.”

“Only I have the ability,” I say. “Only the oldest vampires can fly.”

“I see,” he says, then chews the inside of his cheek.

“We can work out the logistics,” Scotty adds, looking at me. “Don’t worry about it. I can manage.”

“If you’re sure,” I say, and he nods. “I can always lure them down, I suppose.”

“Yeah, whatever you two need to do to knock ’em out.” The werebear turns around, grabs a key hanging from the holder, and slides it across the desk. “Your room’s number eight. I’m Rob. You need anything, just come by. I’m usually here. If I’m not, Lily might be. She’s my niece.”

“Got it,” Scotty says, pocketing the key immediately. “Thank you.”