Page 48 of Only Fangs

“I promise.” She drops her hands and then sticks out her little finger.

I wrap my own around hers. A pinky promise is legally binding.

“Now,” she says, turning away from me to pour coffee into two enormous mugs. “Do you want to tell me why you snuck into my house to drink my whisky and pass out on my sofa?” Her words are soft and gentle, without even a hint of accusation that I’m a shitty friend for effectively breaking in and stealing her stuff.

“The bank pulled their offer,” I tell her. “They only lend to humans. It’s a policy.”

“Ah, shit, Ari. I’m sorry.” She sounds genuine and I desperately blink back the tears that are forming. I don’t want to break down in front of her but I’m not sure if I’m strong enough to hold myself together. “I thought it might have had something to do with Brody…” she dangles the end of the sentence in the air as if it were a question.

“Nothing happened between us.”

“Well, a little happened.” She grins. Of course I already told her everything over the phone while we were still in Aberystwyth.

“He’s being a sweetheart and gentleman. It doesn’t even feel that awkward anymore.”

“Good.” She peers at my puffy face. “I just needed to be sure you didn’t want me to punch that perfect human face of his.”

I shake my head and try not to burst into tears about the funding issue.

“You could get an investor,” she says quietly.

“I don’t want your money Clara.” I’m adamant.

“Not mine…” she trails off. I borrowed some money back in 1956 and it caused a bit of a rift between us, one we’d moved on from a long time ago, but obviously it still plays on her mind a little. “Daddy’s.”

“No.” I’m adamant. The last thing I want is Clara’s wealthy father to loan me money like I’m eighteen and not one hundred and seventy-two.

“You know this kind of ‘keep it in the family’ shit really gets him off,” she tells me, her tone sardonic and with a single eyebrow raised.

“Gross,” I mutter under my breath.

But Clara does kind of have a point. Her father is a very loud campaigner against mixed relationships and believes vampires should only date other vampires.

“You’re doing that face again,” Clara tells me.

“What face?”

“The one that looks like a bulldog swallowed a bee. The one you always pull whenever there’s any mention of dear old Daddy.”

She’s joking. She hates his politics as much as I do. But vampire blood is thicker than water and the vein of familial loyalty runs deep in the Hele clan. Clara walks the fine line between publicly agreeing with him and not pissing him off so much he starts putting his foot down on certain aspects of her life. Like marrying the Transylvanian prince she’s been betrothed to since she was little. So far she’s managed to convince him she’s not ready to settle down and so he keeps pushing back the date. But one day the debt will need to be paid. There’s no getting out of the contract her father signed for her.

“I don’t think getting into bed with your father is a good idea,” I tell her.

She looks horrified until she realises it’s a figure of speech and I’m not literally getting into her father’s bed. The mere thought makes me want to vomit in my mouth a bit. “You know, he invests in loads of random vampire companies. Says he wants to make sure other people have access to the same opportunity he had. Or some other such bullshit soundbite.” She flaps her hand.

“But still…” I make the face again.

“He has a committee. It wouldn’t just be him investing. He’d just be opening the doors, so to speak.”

“Would he want to be involved? In making decisions and stuff?”

“I doubt it. All he’ll care about is if it fits his stupid ideology, and if you’d likely make him some money.”

“It feels…” I trail off as I grope for the right word.

“Genius?” Clara offers.

“I was going to say grubby. Like it’s clearly nepotism.”