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“Has anyone ever pointed out that your moods are about as dependable as cheap panty hose? It makes it extremely difficult to spend time around you.”
“Do you think I would be here unless it was absolutely necessary? You think this is easy for me?” he demanded. “Do you think I like needing humans? All I want to do is finish this job and get out of this backwater burg so I can get my life back!”
“Trust me, you’ve made it absolutely clear how you feel about being here!” I shouted back. “You’ve treated me and my home with nothing but disdain and condescension ever since you got here. Well, news flash, I don’t care what you think of me. The possibility of me being embarrassed by you pretty much ended when you threw up on me.”
He stopped, the irritation draining from his face as his mouth slanted into a grin. “I threw up on you?”
“A lot.”
He burst out laughing, chuckling so hard that his abused stomach muscles clenched and doubled him over, nearly toppling him against me.
“I’m so glad that my ruined clothes and personal trauma amuse you. Are we going to argue like this about every little issue?”
“I hope so. I feel a little bit better every time we do. And it’s … interesting to see you in the heat of the moment.”
I gasped indignantly. “Are you provoking me into arguing with you?”
“I wasn’t at first, but I can’t help it now. You’re just so pretty when you get upset. Your cheeks get pink. And your eyes turn this beautiful sharp blue, like lightning about to strike. And your mouth—”
“There is something very wrong with you.”
“There it is again.” He chuckled. “Pink cheeks and all.”
“If you continue to quote-unquote ‘charm’ me, I’m going to punch you in the throat,” I told him.
“You could try,” he shot back. Before he could elaborate on my flimsy human fighting abilities, he stood and listened, his head cocked to the side like a curious canine.
“What’s the matter?”
“There’s a car coming,” he said. He crossed to the window and cursed in what sounded like Greek. Really dirty Greek. “It’s a Council vehicle!”
I shot to my feet and peered out the window. I couldn’t see anything but the faint light of headlights at the end of my winding driveway. “Are you sure?” He gave me a withering look. “Well, I don’t have superhuman hearing!”
“Don’t panic. It will be fine.”
I whirled toward him. “Don’t panic? I went from having no vampires in my house to having one in the basement and an unknown number in the driveway, and you don’t want me to panic? Why can’t you just talk to them now?”
“Because I’m just as weak and sick as I appear to be. And if the one who poisoned me is among the Council officials, I might as well paint a target on my back.”
I sighed. I was so close to just waving the approaching Council members into the house and letting them cart his blood-spewing butt home. Cal flustered me. And he insulted me, regularly, with laser precision. But he honestly seemed frightened, and I could tell that was not a comfortable emotion for him. So I nodded slowly, my mouth set in a grim line.
His fingers wrapped around my arm, squeezing it gently. “I’m going downstairs. I’ll wait there until they leave. I doubt they’ll search the house. They probably just want to ask you a few questions. Answer them honestly, and don’t try to make up an elaborate story. You’ll be fine.”
“Won’t they be able to smell you in here?” I asked.
He considered it for a moment. “Take them to the garden. Offer them lemonade and iced tea.”
I exclaimed, “They don’t drink lemonade or iced tea!”
“But they’ll appreciate the ‘humanity’ of the gesture. And people with guilty consciences generally don’t take the time for beverage service.”
“I don’t have a guilty conscience. Other than taking you in, I haven’t done anything extraordinarily evil or stupid lately,” I hissed as he headed for the basement door. “And don’t go back downstairs; go upstairs to the alcove. You’ll be able to hear what’s being said if you crack the window. I don’t want to have to relate the conversation to you later.”
He shrugged and changed directions, heading toward the stairs. I opened up the junk drawer and rummaged around for the old clipping shears with the green plastic handles. Cal paused to watch.
“Why are you looking through old takeout menus and batteries?” he asked.
“I’m going to go out there and prune a bunch of geraniums,” I said, brandishing the shears.
