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“Have you lost your mind?” he demanded. “You took off without a word, without waking me up. Do you know how stupid that was?”
I crossed my arms, meeting his rage with stone-faced indifference.
“Let’s not even explore how humiliating it is to be awakened naked, on the floor, by the screams of a hysterical teenage girl, demanding to know why I’m naked and what I’ve done to her sister. Or the fact that I had to comfort said hysterical teenager and assure her that I had not, in fact, murdered you but had no clue where you were or when you would be home—all the while unable to reach my pants because they were across the room. But for now, let’s focus on the fact that despite my telling you not to out of concern for your well-being, you went to the Council offices anyway! I won’t allow it, Iris. I will not cower behind a woman’s skirts while she runs off to—”
“Get the information you need without incident?” I supplied in a tone so saccharine that it should have tipped him off that his testicular health was in serious peril. I reached into the bag and waved the scanner at him. He scowled at me, so I crossed the room, popped out the memory card, and inserted it directly into my laptop. I opened the drive and selected “Print all files,” and the printer began spitting out the reports Cal needed. As I dropped document after document into his hands, I let him absorb the information. I even gave him a moment to be pleased with me. And then I moved in for the kill.
“But you know what I really found interesting?” I tossed the “Beeline” file with my background information at him. The folder flapped open like a drunken bird, the loose sheets hitting his chest before fluttering to the ground. He watched as the papers floated down, eyes widening when he recognized the handwriting. “It’s not shocking, I suppose, that you did a background check on someone who would be coming into your home, Cal. But why act like you’d never heard my name before? Why ask me all of those questions about my background? Why pretend to be interested in my ‘stupid little life’?”
“Because it helped you relax around me,” he admitted quietly. “It made you feel a connection to me. And I was curious about how much you would share with me.”
“So sleeping with me, was that just part of forming a connection? Or were you just curious about whether I would spontaneously combust from sexual frustration?”
“Iris, no—”
“I want you out of my house.” I snarled, poking my finger into his chest. “I got your files. You’re clearly feeling better. It’s time for you to go. I’m sure someone with your resources will have no trouble anonymously renting a hotel room. I don’t want you anywhere near me or Gigi.”
“I can’t leave now,” he insisted. “For one thing, there’s the matter of my investigation. I need a solid, discreet base of operations. We agreed on a week. I need the full week. And don’t pretend that you can do without the rest of my payment, because we both know that you were just scraping by. There’s also the small matter of the person hell-bent on killing me. And the vampire who attacked you at my house. You may not believe me, but I won’t leave you and Gigi unprotected.”
“Yes, I feel supersecure with a lying, untrustworthy vampire skulking around my house.”
“You can trust me. You’re just a little angry with me right now,” he said, ducking deftly out of the way as I lobbed the soapstone rabbit at his head. It bounced off the wall behind him with a thunk, leaving a basketballsized dent in the drywall.
“Oh, I’m not a little angry. I’m fricking furious with you!” I shouted. “The things I told you, I don’t tell people. I haven’t even told Paul. I don’t know what’s more disturbing, the fact that you can lie to me and not even change the expression on your face or the fact that I didn’t pick up on it. You’re a vampire. That sort of thing comes naturally to you. I should expect it. I mean, were you really even poisoned? Was this ‘defenseless, wounded vampire’ thing just an act so you could con me into providing an off-the-grid hiding spot? You did your homework. I’m sure my profile suggested that poor Iris Scanlon would do anything for money. And hey, if you throw her a bone and sleep with her, she’ll be so grateful that she’ll let you get a meal straight from the source!”
I pulled angrily at my collar, revealing the bruised bite wound on my chest. His expression shifted from defiance to sympathy, and the look of pity made me exponentially angrier. So I grabbed another figurine, a chipmunk, and slung it at him.
“Where did your mother buy this concussive menagerie?” he yelped as he sidestepped airborne statuary. In answer, I threw a fawn and a cardinal and a raccoon in rapid succession. Cal ducked through the field of flying woodland creatures and grabbed my arms. We struggled for control of the final figurine, a matching cardinal.
“I didn’t mean to lie to you. I didn’t know you’d be—I didn’t know that I would want to know who you are. That you would be worth so much more than just safe passage and survival. I know you, Iris. I may not have met you in childhood. I might have missed the awkward adolescent ‘flower child’ stage. But I know you.”
Please note that he didn’t say he liked what he knew about me.
“I wouldn’t do anything to bring you harm,” he murmured. “I need to know that you’re safe before I leave. Please don’t send me away now.”
I refused to look up at him. I wouldn’t let him see me cry. I’d already done too much to show him how much he’d hurt me.
“You’re gone in three days,” I said, my voice quiet and flat. “I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to talk to you. I was safe passage for you. Now you’re a meal ticket to me, nothing more.”
I brushed past him, returning to the kitchen. Gigi was pretending to work, her fingers anxiously shredding a paper towel. I squeezed her shoulder and gave her a little half smile. Behind me, I heard the cellar door slam, indicating that Cal had retired for the evening.
“What gives?” Gigi asked, nibbling on a pizza crust. “Does our vampire have PMS?”
“I don’t understand living men,” I muttered, picking at a slice of pizza. “Do you think I understand undead ones?”>I nodded again, scurrying toward the back door with Cal’s files cradled safely against my chest. Slow down, I commanded my legs. Running would make me seem guilty and frightened. The fact that I was guilty and frightened was neither here nor there. I needed to get home, to process Ophelia’s cryptic suggestions and Mr. Crown’s derisive, yet insightful, insults.
I stopped, glancing back to see if Mr. Crown was still watching me. But he was gone, off to cow some other human with his undiluted contempt. Was it wrong to wish spontaneous combustion on someone? What if you only wished the flames to affect one area of the body, say, the zipper of his pants?
Still wrong, I supposed.
Probably.
I really needed some M&M’s.
10
We cannot emphasize enough our warnings against trying to get vampires to share their feelings.
—The Care and Feeding of Stray Vampires
