Page 10 of Blood and Bells

Chapter Four

Holly is easy to spot when I walk into the Knit and Kettle. I invariably notice everything because I’m a vampire. For instance, there are six customers in the café, four women, two men. Behind the counter, two teenage girls. Wool coats steam by the radiator; mittens drape like sleepy animals. A retro radio crackles with carols, and someone’s scarf smells of pine.

Mr. Patel, the town’s salt truck driver, sits by himself, doing a crossword puzzle and blowing on a hot mug of tea through his four remaining teeth. He took over this winter and drives the gritter like it’s a sacred duty.

At the table over is Meribel, a reserved and elegant siren who runs the vinyl shop. She came to Willow Creek a few years ago, and there’s a rumor that she’s lost her voice over some mishap with an enchanted microphone. That doesn’t stop her from trying to teach everyone else about the magic of harmony.

Most folks in Willow Creek are like that. Charming, eccentric, and a little out of place, until they end up here.

I notice that Holly has a slight sag under her eyes today. Not enough sleep after her Christmas tree was stolen. Her hair has more than its usual slight fray at the edges. One of her fingernails is ragged. She’s exhausted—poor thing—and the Fair Isle sweater looks like it lost a minor skirmish with static.

She’d be devastating in strong colors. Navy. Claret. Even plum. Today’s pale green tries its best. She’s still—infuriatingly—radiant. I wonder what magic she uses.

Holly Frost doesn’t act like other humans.

Most are…intrigued by me. Curious. Sensibly impressed and occasionally wary.

She isn’t.

Since that first meeting, she’s barely tolerated me. I’ve offered advice. Assistance. Insight. Dashingly charming jokes. All of it, apparently, unwelcome.

Vexing.

And now she sits there, biting her fingernail, while her friend looks at me exactly as mortals should. Marcy understands the situation perfectly. Holly does not.

Not that I care.

This is about securing our place here before anyone has the bright idea to reconsider it.

Marcy waves at me, and I give her my three-out-of-ten smile. I’ve developed a scale, one I really should have patented. A one or two handles most humans. I save anything higher for when I want something.

Four would be enough to make every woman pay attention, and anything higher requires a fainting couch and smelling salts. A ten would knock the socks, and every other item of clothing, off whoever I aimed it at. I’ve rarely had cause to use it.

My heightened senses do a second sweep of the room, catching every detail: the hum of the espresso machine clashes with the gentle scrape of a spoon against porcelain, the faint tang of cloves mingling with the scent of old wood and spilled cream. A headless gingerbread man floats in Holly’s latte, which feels pointed.

These small things used to bore me. Lately, they’ve become oddly comforting. Perhaps immortality makes a hobby of the mundane.

Holly sips her coffee and checks her phone, pointedly ignoring me. I swallow a fresh wave of irritation, and I wonder what that’s all about.

“May I?” I ask, gliding towards the empty seat.

“Please,” Marcy gushes.

Holly grunts at me.

It’s typical. It’s impolite at the very least. And despite this behavior that borders on rudeness, I will remain a gentleman. Polite charm costs nothing, so I turn my attention to Holly’s friend. I dip my head, take her hand, and bow over her knuckles—old-world manners, not a bite.

“I don’t believe we’ve seen each other in a while.”

Holly’s friend turns bright red and stammers out, “I’ve been doing chocolates. Making chocolates. For my store. The chocolate store. It’s the one with the chocolate.”

I murmur encouragingly at her, quite pleased by how flustered she is, and turn up my smile by one notch. Marcy blushes with enough intensity that it’s possible her heart might explode. This is an appropriate response. It’s how any normal human being should respond to a vampire as old and important as me.

Holly continues to pointedly ignore me. I cough at her. It gets her attention, and she raises her head.

Finally.

“Yes?”