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I snorted at my reflection. “Right. Vampire mechanic with a tan.”

Maybe it was just an accident. A heat-of-the-moment impulse he hadn’t thought through. People did weird things during sex. I’d done weirder things than bite someone during sex. Probably. The list was long, and I didn’t keep a spreadsheet.

None of the explanations felt quite right, but I didn’t have time to keep spinning theories. Mrs. Calloway’s list was waiting, and if I didn’t show up soon, she’d start calling. The woman had a sixth sense for employee avoidance.

Dressed in blue shorts and a fitted tee—no sparkles today, not in the mood I was in—I grabbed my toolbox and headed out. The hallway was empty. No pervy neighbor lurking by the stairwell. No sounds from 3D. Just the usual apartment noises.

My first stop after retrieving my work orders was 2A, where a sink had backed up and the tenant was threatening to call an actual plumber. The tenant was a middle-aged woman named Mrs. Mursell who had opinions about everything and wasn’t shy about sharing them.

“It’s been four days,” she said, arms crossed as she led me to the kitchen. “Four days of washing dishes in the bathtub.”

“That sounds inconvenient.” My usual cheerfulness was shoved inside my closet next to the suit and box. But that was only half the reason. The other half was busy with oil changes. I hadn’t realized how much I’d enjoyed Deadeye working with me until now.

“It’s barbaric,” Mrs. Mursell replied with an indignant sniff.

The sink was full of murky water that smelled like old socks. Yuck. I stared at it for a long moment then pulled out my phone and dialed Deadeye’s number, convincing myself it was work related and not because I wanted to hear his voice.

He answered on the first ring. “Hypothetical?”

“Very real. Very gross. Sink. Clogged. Water that looks like a swamp.”

“Did you try the plunger?”

“Of course I did.” I looked around for a plunger and found one in her bathroom.

The rest of my day was pretty much the same, though I managed to fix a few things without a hypothetical call.

Progress.

Chapter Seven

Niles

“I’m surprised you pried yourself away from Riot.” I passed the cigarette to Calvin as we sat on the stoop in front of my building and watched the traffic pass by on the street.

“Stop being bitchy. You know what it’s like when you get with a guy.” He took a hit, blew out the smoke, then flicked the ashes. “Shit’s been crazy, you know?”

My hand went to my shoulder where Deadeye had bitten me. “Yeah, I know. Whatever happened with Miguel? He just stopped coming around. Did Riot scare him off?”

With a shrug, Calvin passed me the cigarette. “I guess. I haven’t seen him since he scared the shit out of me in my kitchen.”

“Can I ask you something without you getting all weird?” I blew out the smoke, watching a kid ride by on his bicycle, then attempt a wheelie he’d almost nailed.

Calvin eyed me. “You’re the one who gets weird.”

“I get fabulous, not weird,” I huffed.

“Ask me.” Calvin flicked the cigarette toward the grass then turned fully toward me.

I pulled aside my shirt to show the bite mark. “That’s not an ordinary bite, is it?” I was asking my best friend like he was some bite expert, but he was the only person I trusted with this.

The way Calvin stiffened told me he knew exactly what he was looking at.

“Oh god. Deadeye is a vampire. I should’ve known. Look at his name. It has vampire written all over it. Am I gonna become one now? Gross. I faint at the sight of blood. I’ll be the only vampire in history to die because I’m too squeamish!”

I jumped up, unsure where I wanted to go.

“He’s not a vampire.” Calvin grabbed my hand and forced me to sit down. “Stop talking so loud.”