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“Council?” I squeaked. But neither of them noticed, what with all the seething and male posturing.
“As your sire, I have to take you before the local council to answer some questions,” Gabriel told me. “I would suggest you put on some more suitable clothes.”
I looked down at my clothes. Apparently, pajama pants imprinted with little cupcakes were not suitable.
I ran inside to change into khakis and a respectable blouse, reluctant to leave Dick and Gabriel alone for fear they might say something interesting in my absence. When I came back out, it appeared that they hadn’t said anything at all. Gabriel was leaning against the porch railing, arms crossed and eyes narrowed at his old friend. Dick was stretched out on my swing, scratching my adoring dog. Fitz had roused himself enough to sit up and place his head on Dick’s knee.
“You’ll be fine, Stretch,” Dick assured me with a wink. “See you later.”
Gabriel glowered at Dick as he opened the door to his car, a rather sedate Volvo sedan. It was disappointing, despite the total destruction of every preconceived vampire notion I’d had in the last week. The car smelled of old leather and not much else. It was a refreshing change from my car, which smelled faintly of bacon cheeseburgers.
Dick didn’t bother leaving before we pulled away. He stayed stretched across my porch swing with my dog’s head on his knee. He even blew me a little kiss as I left. I’m sure it was meant to make Gabriel wonder whether he would still be there when I returned. I bounced between being annoyed and being somewhat flattered that he was using me to irritate Gabriel. I settled on annoyed.
I had no idea what awaited me at the council hearing. After the initial Coming Out chaos subsided, the World Council for the Equal Treatment of the Undead appointed national and state-level commissions to look into suspicious vampire deaths and record the newly turned. Those state councils had local representatives to settle minor squabbles and determine what matters were worth the higher-ups’ attention. They were also granted authority to carry out sentences for the Council.
Gabriel drove in seething silence until we reached the edge of town. As we pulled to a stop on Gates Street, he tightened his fingers around the steering wheel and spat. “I can smell him on you.”
“Who?”
“You know who,” he snarled.
“Is this about Dick?” I finally asked.
He growled.
I crossed my arms, as much to put a barrier between our bodies as to communicate my exasperation. “So, it’s about Dick.”
Not to be obvious, but wasn’t it always?
He pulled me to face him in my seat, his face dangerously close to mine. “I need to make something very clear. I’m not your friend, Jane. I’m not Zeb. I can’t spend time with you if you’re going to be with someone else.”
“I want you to really, really listen to me, because I say this with all sincerity,” I whispered, pressing his hands between mine.
“You are not a well man.”
“Don’t make a joke out of this,” he growled.
“I’m not kidding,” I growled back. “What the hell do you mean, you’re not my friend? And I haven’t been with anyone, thank you very much. You’d know that if you really paid attention with that nose of yours.>“I kind of like it.” He smirked and turned his attentions to the gardens. “I knew your family, growing up. Came to a couple of parties here at River Oaks. I was, uh, friendly with your several-times-great-aunt Cessie.”
I glared at him. Dick glossed over the subject. “The gardens were never this pretty, though. My mother used to have a garden like this. She liked to leave it kind of wild, but you could see the thought she put into it. She loved her roses.”
“So did my aunt Jettie,” I said. “I’m barely keeping them alive. I ’m better at reading about gardening than the actual gardening itself. But Jettie liked it when I would tell her what the roses meant. You know, white roses mean purity. Red roses mean passionate love. Oddly enough, blue roses signify mystery, the real mystery being that there is no such thing as a naturally blue rose.
Roses can’t produce a chemical called delphinidin, which makes flowers blue. So florists have to dip them in chemicals to turn them blue.”
Even as I was talking, a voice inside my head was yelling, “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”
Dick seemed impressed but a little frightened. “You must really like flowers.”
“I like finding symbolic meanings in everyday things, ” I said. “You know, the meanings in some Victorian floral guides conflicted, so sometimes couples sent each other mixed messages. I like the idea of some proper English lady breaking her parasol over a suitor’s head because he sent her yellow carnations, thinking it meant affection, but in her book it meant rejection and disdain.”
Dick stared at me a long time before saying, “You’re—”
“Jane?”
My head snapped up. Gabriel closed the fifty yards to my front door in a few strides. He did not look happy. And he was carrying my purse. My feet dropped to the porch. Fitz lifted his head and let out a huff but didn ’t move. Dick remained in his casual, cozy pose, a smug grin spreading like molasses.
“Well, if it isn’t my good friend Gabriel. How are you, son?”
