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Vicki Stern, who was used to seeing Faux Type O and Fang-Brite Flouride Wash in my cart, did a double take at the red polyester gym bag emblazoned with a Count Chocula look-alike with little Xs over his eyes.
“It’s a gag gift,” I told her, rolling my eyes, tossing an Almond Joy onto the register belt. “One of my clients has a weird sense of humor.”
Given the way she was yawning, I’m guessing that Vicki’s interest waned pretty quickly.
I entered each house that day with liquid silver hidden in my hip pocket and a stake in my sleeve, despite the fact that spotting me with anything like that would have resulted in the loss of my contracts with the Council. I slipped through every front door like a cat burglar, silver spray at the ready, and completed my tasks with my back against a wall at all times. It made work tedious and stressful, but at least I was able to restock Ms. Wells’s blood supply without my hands shaking.
I rushed through my tasks, sure to leave the last client’s home long before sunset. I came home to find Gigi had gone to study at Ben Overby’s. Ben, a classmate of Gigi’s at Half-Moon Hollow High, was a sweet boy who bagged groceries at the Super Saver and drove his grandmother to church on Sunday mornings. He had big puppy-dog eyes the color of new moss and dark hair that sort of flopped over his forehead. Lanky, lean, and clean-cut, he actually went to class and cared about what he did while he was there. He was a nice boy, the kind you could count on to show up on time, to call when he was supposed to. You could trust that he wouldn’t drop mind-altering substances into your soda if you left it unattended around him. He was not exactly Gigi’s type, which ran toward the bigger, jockier, “I could bench-press you if I wanted to” variety. I hoped that Ben’s presence was a sign of her having some sort of dating epiphany.
Cal was sitting at my kitchen table, curtains drawn tight against the setting sun, typing something on his laptop. He looked up at me and smiled. I sensed some saucy opening line coming my way. For some reason, “Making any progress?” slipped out of my mouth.
Right then, right to business. No talk of grinding against door frames or slippery fingertips. Internally, I slapped a palm to my face and called myself a coward.
Cal’s shoulders sagged under the weight of … disappointment? Insult? Hell, maybe he was hungry. I couldn’t read this guy if he had bold print on his face. He recovered quickly and shook his head. “I hate to harp on this point, but I still need my files. You’re sure they weren’t in the front bedroom?”
“Well, I did spend some quality time in that closet. I think I would have noticed a big white file box.”
He sighed. “If the Council claimed the files from my house, they will be stored in my office or Ophelia’s—most likely Ophelia’s, since she wouldn’t trust anybody else with it. And there are few items on my desk that would be helpful.”
“How could someone who has secret cash and an emergency weekend bag stashed in his kitchen not keep his files on a flash drive?”
“I do have a flash drive … at the Council office. I have some digital scans of the important documents saved on my hard drive here, but other reports and some samples were left at the house. If they’re at the Council office, I need them back.”
“And calling Ophelia to tell her what you need is out?”
“Do you think I haven’t thought of that? Do you think it hasn’t crossed my mind every waking moment? But I can’t do that now, not after you were hurt in my house. Clearly, someone on the Council is trying to hurt me, even if they have to do it through people who are only loosely connected to me.”
Loosely connected? What the hell did that mean? I turned my back on him, heating water for a cup of tea. It gave me an excuse not to look at him and ample time to mull over how quickly my thrall had dissipated.
“You can’t re-create them?” I asked, rinsing out the tea ball. Cal grunted, which I assumed was a negative response. “Well, I guess I’m going to have to visit the Council office.”
“No.” He went into the living room, snagged his laptop bag, and rifled through it for some random piece of paper.
“Why not? You didn’t have any problem sending me to your house when you needed information.”
“That was before—before I thought it was possible that someone could be lying in wait to hurt you. They weren’t supposed to be able to do that, Iris. They weren’t supposed to be able to get into my house. I had to sit there and listen while you were—It won’t happen again. I won’t have it.”
“You won’t have it?” I shot back. “You won’t have it? Where in your contract did it say, ‘Cal the vampire makes all decisions for Iris Scanlon?’ Have you ever seen me at the Council office before, Cal?” I asked.
He ground his teeth, which I took as a no.
“And why do you think that is? I mean, I have to stop by the office on a regular basis to collect paperwork, drop off invoices and deliveries. The offices are only open at night. How do you think I conduct my business without being seen by anyone but Ophelia? I’m like a ghost in that place. You spend enough time around people who are hardwired to see your kind as prey, you learn to move quickly and quietly, to stay in shadows and behind doors. I know how to stay as unobtrusive as possible.”
“To drop off paperwork, yes,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Not to break into Ophelia’s desk.”
“I’m not going to break into anything,” I protested. “Ophelia hates to file. All of her papers are kept in stacks on the table behind her desk. And she’s rarely in her office, unless she’s expecting me, so it should be easily accessible. And as for your workspace, if your house is any indication, there’s hardly anything there. It should be easy to sift through your desk, too.”
“I said no.”
“And that would matter if you were my daddy. But since you’re not—Look, the sooner you have your information, the sooner you can finish your investigation and the sooner you can get out of my house and leave my little armpit of a town. That’s what you want, right?”
“Not like this, I don’t.”
“I just want to help. How am I supposed to sit around the house, watering plants and balancing my checkbook, knowing that you’ve toddled off to that nest of vipers, weakened and not quite at your stealthiest, to get yourself even deeper into trouble?”
“Weakened?” He growled. He hauled me against the wall with his hand gripped around my throat, squeezing lightly. I was pinned by his hips again, scrambling for purchase as I fought gravity and an irritated vampire. I flailed my limbs and ended up wrapped around him like a climbing vine. He glared at me, his fangs down. “This is what matters. Strength. Even weakened as I am, I would be able to hurt you, Iris. It has nothing to do with gender or how intelligent you are. Is it better for me to treat you as an equal, as someone with thoughts and opinions and feelings as important as my own? Yes, but at the end of the day, the only way to stay alive is strength.”
“What is your deal with walls?” I demanded, shoving his hand away from my throat. He grunted and trapped my wrist over my head. No matter how I tensed the muscles, I couldn’t pull away. I was caught, pinned like a butterfly. I hissed out a breath, glowering at him … which he seemed to find amusing.
