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Herbish shakes her shaggy green head slowly side to side. “Sometimes. But sometimes they just be feelin’ peckish after a hard day on the hamster wheel. Or they decide they don’t like the smell of the little ones. That’s what I’m saying, dearie. A vampire mum isn’t like you ‘n me. They don’t put their babies first. Forget that and you’ll be putting everyone you love in danger.”
“Come on, Herbish,” I say, keeping my voice low to match hers. “You don’t really believe that. You said it yourself, Edmond is the best of them.”
“The best of a nest of vipers is still a viper,” she says, emitting a burp so rancid, I can feel it singing the tiny hairs on my cheeks.
But I don’t pull back or fake a need to check the walk-in fridge for garnish supplies.
I lean in even closer and insist, “Edmond isn’t a viper.”
Everyone in town believes my engagement to Edmond is the real deal—even my immediate family. It’s a ruse we’re determined to maintain in the name of keeping my daughter safe from her piece of shit, kidnapping-prone father. But even if we were just friends, I’d stick up for him.
From the moment we met, Edmond has been nothing but kind and generous—almost to a fault. Agreeing to marry me in order to save Amy from being taken to the demon realm with Manny, my ex, was already above and beyond the call of duty. If he’d swung by the courthouse to say our vows on his way to party his last few months away in France, I would have owed him for the rest of my life.
But he’s spending his final days in Nightfall with me, planning a big wedding, selling the relationship to his clan, and transferring all his assets into joint accounts in both our names. He’s ensuring I’ll have the same support other Blackmore widows receive after he’s gone, even though we will only have been married for a little over a month.
He’s worth sticking up for—worth fighting for, even if I have to fight his own stubborn belief that there’s no way to break this stupid curse.
Herbish holds my gaze, her yellow eyes haunted. “You’re right. Emond’s not a viper.” I’m about to thank her for confirming my fiancé’s fabulousness, when she adds, “He’s the treasure in the dragon’s cave. And Goddess help the woman who comes for a dragon’s treasure. She may soon find herself on the wrong end of the flames, no matter how long it’s been since the dragon returned to its nest…”
“But I—”
“Which is why we let sleeping dragons lie, no matter how much free booze we drink,” Herbish cuts in, her words ringing in the silence that settles between us.
Well, shit.
She’s on to me and clearly not inclined to help me track down Edmond’s maker. This is probably a lost cause, but at least I don’t have to beat around the bush anymore.
“I’m not trying to start something with Priscilla,” I say, forcing a breezy smile. “I just want to talk.”
“Priscilla doesn’t talk. Not with the likes of you.”
“Why not?” I ask, pushing on before she can reply, “My family’s been in Nightfall nearly as long as the Blackmores. I’m not some interloper with no standing in this community, and I’m not afraid of her.”
“You should be,” Herbish says.
“She’s just a person,” I insist, ignoring the fresh anxiety cramps now squirming through my intestines. “A very powerful, ancient person, but a person all the same. We can find common ground. I know we can.”
The goblin’s brows slide slowly up her broad forehead in a way that says, “WTF, human, how dumb are you?” more eloquently than words ever could.
But I’m not stupid, just stubborn as hell when it comes to protecting the people I care about.
“I want to talk to her before the wedding,” I add as I tip another shot of rum into the goblin’s glass and top it with a spray of Coke from the soda gun. “It’s a human thing. We like to meet the in-laws, get their seal of approval, share stories about our special guy or gal, that kind of stuff. Harmless stuff, really, and I’m sure Priscilla wouldn’t mind a little girl talk before the big day.” I hesitate, pretending to ponder my options before I muse, “Or I could just write her a letter… If I had any idea where to send it…”
Herbish wrinkles her flat green nose and grumbles something unintelligible beneath her breath.
“What was that?” I do my best to keep the question casual. I don’t want to push too hard and spook her, but I only have a few minutes before I have to start closing up. I have to get something, and an address would be a great place to start. “Romania?”
“Albania,” Herbish corrects with a sniff. “Romania hasn’t been safe for vampires for centuries. People see what they expect to see, dearie, and thanks to Vlad and his impaling nonsense, they expect to see a vampire in them parts. They don’t expect one in a big, pink villa on the Albanian Riviera.”
The Albanian Riviera!
I don’t know much about Albania—I’m a product of substandard rural schooling and was always more fascinated by history than geography—but I know it’s a small country. There can’t be that much coastline or more than three or four big pink villas in the entire place. Right?
Finally, I have a lead!
I’m so grateful I could kiss Herbish, but I’d probably lose my dinner after, so I settle for giving her hand a quick squeeze and whispering, “Thank you.”
She grunts again. “Don’t thank me. If I take the thanks, I’ll have to take the blame when your pretty little head ends up on a spike on the wall at the Blackmore estate.”
