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I rubbed my temple, attempting to ease my budding headache.If they aren’t careful, they’re going to ruin all my hard work. Vígí isn’t so far gone that he won’t notice that they’re clearlyexcitedby this house fire.This is why I never wanted offspring.
Despite being among the oldest generation of vampires, I’d never turned a single human. I didn’t want to be responsible for anyone, and vampires were smarter than humans but just barely.
No, instead my closest friend, Ambrose Dracos, had kicked the bucket, but not before asking me to take charge of all his insipid, silly children.
Well, not all of them are insipid.
There was one child of Dracos who had some redeeming value—the youngest, who also was the most powerful of the litter: Killian.
Killian was my favorite, mainly because I could trust him to keep himself alive. He had a thirst for power that meant his vampire Family, the Drakes, was flourishing while the rest of the Dracos offspring had the mental capacity of a flea carrying the bubonic plague.
It’s been years since I last saw Killian…and matters with Vígí are clearly handled. The rest of the Dracos brats can survive for a few months; perhaps it is time to finally see Killian’s haunt in Magiford.
I’d heard he’d adopted a pet wizard, which was an odd enough idea for a vampire Family that it deserved a visit to make sure he wasn’t losing his mind. Since it was Killian, there was a good chance he’d just taken in the wizard for power usage, and I could actually justlivefor once.
Car lights bounced down the driveway—more of Vígí’s children had arrived.
Yes, Vígí is fine. I have some downtime.
My mind made up, I turned my back to the roaring flames and again pulled my cellphone from my trouser pocket. I flicked it open and tapped a number.
My phone rang, and eventually voicemail clicked on.
“Hello,Killian,” I said. “I have delightful news: I’m coming to visit you.”
CHAPTERTHREE
Jade
Sunlight poured in through the window at the back of my modest apartment, giving it a warm glow that I barely noticed. I was occupied, peering at my phone screen, hunched over like a goblin as I watched the video Nan and Paddy had recorded. “Next, add your chopped potatoes. You’ll need to cook them for about ten minutes,”
I brandished my wooden spoon—caked with burnt bits of sausage—at my phone. “I did that.”
“Until tender,” Paddy added, the video whirling as Nan scooted around him to get a better shot at his skillet.
“Tender? Was I supposed to check that before I added everything else?” I glanced at my skillet, which was a mess of still hard potatoes, burnt sausage, and the spinach and veggies that I’d cooked into basically nothing. “I cooked them for ten minutes like the video said.”
I glanced back at the video where Paddy stirred his breakfast hash. His potatoes looked crisp and golden—just how I remembered from family breakfasts before mission days.
“Well. That’s another failed recipe. I better make a note for next time.” I set my spoon down and scribbled away at my notebook, which was filled with the easiest of my family’s regular recipes.
I’d been trying to make them since I’d moved to Magiford back in January, attempting at least two recipes per week. So far, I’d successfully completed onlyoneof them and that one recipe was a salad dressing so I wasn’t sure if it counted.
This was my third attempt at the breakfast hash recipe, and despite the reconnaissance I’d done—and getting the video from Paddy and Nan—this attempt hadn’t come out any better than the first two tries.
My cellphone alarm went off, reminding me that I was due at the Curia Cloisters for my shift in half an hour.
Biting back a sigh of disappointment, I dumped my failed hash in the garbage, did the dishes as quickly as I could, then grabbed what had become my standard before-shift-meal from the freezer: a veggie smoothie.
My freezer door was lined with smoothies. Banana-peanut butter, very berry, pumpkin, spinach—I might have lacked cooking skills, but I’d learned how to make just about anything in a smoothie and had frozen them ahead for the convenience factor.
I grabbed my backpack, which held a change of clothes, my ID, and wallet, then snagged a spoon and my veggie smoothie. The smoothie was basically a block of ice, but with the crazy August heat—even if there were only a few days left in the month—it would thaw before I got to the Cloisters.
A double check of my windows—having a vampire slayer background encouraged some paranoia—and I was out the door, juggling my frosty cup between my hands.
It took a moment to lock my door—then double check that I’d locked it—before I heard someone bang their way up the stairs.
I watched the stairway as I pocketed my key, and was surprised to see movers—in green uniforms—carrying a set of beautiful wooden dining chairs.
