“Uh, intimate?” Language barrier alert. She couldn’t mean—
“But of course. Vampires bring such spice to lovemaking. Etienne and me, we often have vampire lovers.”
Yikes. She
did
mean.
I stood mute. Stony hovered two feet at my back, making froth-at-the-mouth sounds. Yolette’s hand kneaded my waist. I felt faint and wanted to disappear, but flinched when Etienne laughed, harsh and startling.
“Ah, Yolette, I think this little vampire is an innocent. See? She blushes.”
“
C’est vrai?
Truly you do not share a bed with your friends?”
“No,” I blurted, and meant
hell
no.
“We would welcome you then.” She moved her hand from my waist—finally!—but lifted it to caress my cheek. “We could teach you so much,
d’accord
, Etienne?”
“Oui,”
Etienne said, his voice rich with speculation as he eyed me like I was the rarest dish on the menu. Stony moved then, jerking me sideways by the arm so fast a mortal would’ve had whiplash. Though his fingers dug smack into the same spot on my right arm where he’d grabbed me earlier, I kept both hands on the Starbloods bottle. Points for me. Stony stuck his face close to Yolette’s. “I’m warning you, I’ll see you dead before you screw a vampire in my town.”
“Is there a problem, folks?”
I turned to see Larry Hardy, the night manager, a smile in place along with his business suit and name badge, but his narrow gaze measured the scene.
Etienne rose from his seat and waved a languid hand. “
Non, non. C’est
a mere misunderstanding.”
Yolette tossed her hair and stamped a foot. “
Quel problème!
This man,” she pointed dramatically, “he follows us and he threatens me just now. I demand he be removed at once.”
“Sir?” Larry’s tone made Stony let me go and back up.
“All right, I’m leaving.” Stony glanced from Yolette to Etienne to me. “But you remember what I said. I
will
be watching.”
Larry followed Stony out to the oyster bar, I guess to be sure he left. I turned to Yolette and Etienne. I didn ’t like their game, but maybe they were in true danger.
“I need to rejoin my friends and finish our paperwork, but you ought to file a report with the St. Augustine police.”
“
Oui
, perhaps we will.” She paused. “But tell me, have I offended you,
ma petite
?”
“You surprised me.” An honest understatement.
“I suppose you do not wish to be our lover while we are here?”
That’d be a big ten-four. I put it nicer. “No, but have a nice honeymoon.”
I didn’t need vampire speed to flag down Cami, return the bottle, and have it deducted from the newlyweds’ bill. I paid our tab, too, while I had Cami’s attention, because I wanted to call it a night.
“What the hell happened in there?” Mick demanded when I stepped back out on the porch. “Stony damn near knocked over three people on his way down the stairs.”
“He threatened the French couple,” I answered, dropping into my chair.
“Not you this time?” Janie asked.
“Not directly.”
“You’re rubbing your arm again,” Janie said with concern. “We need to add your injury to the form.”
“Cesca.” Mick’s hard edges showed in his face and clenched fists. “What aren’t you telling us?”
Embarrassing as it was, I spilled it. “The bride, the newlywed bride who was wrapped around her groom all night? She propositioned me.”
“Huh?” they said in unison.
“My reaction exactly.” I rubbed my temples. “Seems the happy couple is into sex with vampires. I never quite got whether she meant solo or ménage à trois or both, but Stony heard every word and went ballistic.”
Janie’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. “Damn, Cesca, what did you do?”
“Other than mumbling incoherently? Not much. After Stony threatened death to vampire lovers, the manager escorted him out. I told the couple no thanks and split.”
Mick’s lips twitched. Was that a grimace or a grin fighting to break out?
“Let me get this straight,” he said, his voice slightly choked. “The Frenchwoman put the make on you for some vampire nooky? Seriously, you?”
I nodded.
He burst full-out laughing.
Janie punched his arm. Hard. I swear my own arm throbbed in response. “What’s the matter with Cesca?” she demanded.
“She isn’t attractive enough to be propositioned? Is that what you find so funny?”
“No, no, not at all.”
“Then what are you implying?”
“That she’s not the type to roll in the hay with…just anyone.”
“You mean I don’t roll in the hay at all, ” I said and waited as Janie turned wide eyes on me. I shrugged. “It’s true. I haven’t, uh, had much experience.”
“You have nada experience,” Mick corrected. “Most vampires bed hop as fast as they can move. They ’re sensual, they’re—”
“Too sexy for their fangs?”
Mick grinned. “Pretty much. Your sexuality meter is on dead stop. Pardon the pun.”
“Thanks for the brutal honesty, Mick. I’ll remember that on your birthday.”
“It’s almost a year away.”
“I have a long memory.”
“So do I.” Janie gave him laser eyes. “How come you know so much about vampire sex antics?”
His gaze darted away then back. “I worked as a bouncer in a bar in Daytona. About fifteen years ago before vampires became a protected species. The vamps who hung out there were a wild bunch.”
“Wild with you?”
Mick laid a hand over Janie’s. “Never.”
“Hunh, like I care.” She slipped her hand from under his and homed in on me again. “Ignore him, Cesca. You’re plenty sensual and sexy. You don’t have a hot honey because you’re discerning. But I can fix that. The hottie part, I mean.” She grinned and rubbed her hands together. “I know these guys who’d love to take you out. There’s Max Malone—”
“No, Janie, stop,” I interrupted, gripped by a full-on fix-up terror alert. “Look, it’s nice of you to offer, but I’d rather be staked than go on a blind date.”
“My friends aren’t
that
bad,” Janie huffed.
“Of course, they aren’t,” I soothed. “I’m sure they’re great, but where can these guys take me? As little as I eat, going for drinks or dinner is a waste.”
“That’s for sure,” Mick said. “You’d give new meaning to the term
cheap date.
”
“Mick, you’re not amusing,” Janie snarked and turned back to me. “Cesca, I see how it could be awkward, but a movie isn’t out of the question. Or dancing.” She frowned. “Then again, people tend to work up a thirst when they dance.”
“Right, and how many movies can I see without dying of popcorn envy?” I do love the aroma of fresh popcorn.
“Hmmm. You need a guy who’s creative about dates.”
“I don’t
need
a guy at all. Really. I’m busy every night.”
“But I’d like to help you find someone special.”
Janie looked so crestfallen, I took pity. “Tell you what. If I decide I have the time and interest in dating, I promise you’ll be the first to know.”
“Can’t ask for more than that, Janie,” Mick said jovially. “And, Cesca, since you’ll need to sleep in, I’ll hand deliver the incident report and the tourist list when the company office opens in the morning.”
“Sure, Mick, thanks,” I said, suppressing a chuckle at his eagerness to repay me for getting him out of a double date. He went so far as to pat my shoulder as we left Scarlett’s, and since Mick never touches me, the gesture was huge—like kissing my feet in public.
We split up on Cordova, Mick and Janie heading north to Mick’s car, me heading south for Maggie’s condo on Cathedral Place. I took all of five steps before the impact of what just happened hit me. No, not my near escape with a fixup.
Mind reading. Telepathy.
Holy guacamole, I’d read minds tonight. Not just those of the overexcited tourists. I’d seen men’s names form in Janie’s thoughts and read Mick’s gratitude to be off the double dating hook. Not just his face, his mind. Heard the thoughts in his own voice tone and pattern.
My psychic abilities were like water in a sieve this close to the dark of the moon. For over two hundred years it had been that way. Could they return to normal after all this time?
Nah, probably not. Not for good, anyway. Best not to wish for more out of my afterlife when I already had so much.
THREE
Among other provisions, the Vampire Protection Act required me to live within five miles of my sponsor. I could’ve rented an apartment, but they aren’t as easy to find as one might think. Then there’s the whole vampire-daytime-resting-place protection issue, and, well, the quickest fix to my unique housing need was to move into Maggie’s penthouse guest room. Maggie lives in the old First National Bank of St. Augustine building, circa 1928, right in the heart of the colonial part of the city. The building, now housing another bank and various professional offices on the lower floors, is across the street from the Plaza de la Constitución. The plaza is a public park opposite the Bridge of Lions, and it ’s been a gathering place virtually since the city was founded in 1565.
The city fathers never held with skyscrapers, so the whole bank building is only six floors high and just the top two were converted to condos—three of them on the fifth floor. Maggie has the entire sixth floor, a modernized loft -esque space with amazing views of the bay, the lighthouse, the old fort, and even snatches of St. George Street and the city gates. Maybe it was the result of my confrontations with Stony and the newlyweds—and the blind date scare with Janie—but I was drained. My nice, normal afterlife had taken hits of excitement I didn’t like. I would’ve loved to crawl into bed and watch a movie marathon, but I couldn’t. Not if I wanted to keep up with my online classes. Then again, studying would put me squarely back in my routine, and that was a good thing.
Design was my class
del día
, or
del giorno
as my papa would’ve said. Interior design tonight, exterior design tomorrow. Specifically, matching landscape plans with architectural styles. Neither was a college-level course. I couldn’t enroll in college until I finished my GED. I was on track to do that, but in the meantime I indulged my HGTV -discovered love of architecture and design by taking the lecture and project classes offered through continuing ed.
In addition to the old Victorian, Maggie was also restoring the carriage house cum cottage on the back -of-the-house grounds for me. She wanted me to decorate my own space, and I would, but Victorian and other ornate styles weren’t my thing—
not like they were Maggie’s. Now, give me Frank Lloyd Wright, Art Deco, Art Moderne, or midcentury modern, and I ’m drooling. Lost in lines and curves and colors.
I was two blocks from the condo, thinking about the Craftsman -style cabinet I was designing for class, when I heard muffled footsteps behind me. Stony? Didn’t smell like him, no menace in the air. The hinky honeymooners? No pheromones or fresh blood stench.
I stood still, and an essence wafted around me. Faint in the fingers of the fog, but there. It wasn’t a fragrance. It was almost a touch. A ghostly touch, yet not a ghost. It could be only an overpowering memory. Or it might be what—or rather who—sprang to mind.
Shape-shifter. Specifically, Triton. My friend from the time of our childhoods until the day I insisted he leave town to escape the vampires.
Shifters had been hunted to extinction, logic argued.
No, the werecreatures—the true lycanthropes—were dead. Those not slaughtered outright had died from contracting a virus engineered to kill them. The virus hadn’t harmed humans, and it hadn’t harmed other shifters. Magical shifters lived on.
Two things were sure. I hadn’t felt that kind of magical energy scrape my skin in centuries, and I didn’t know what I’d do if it were real. Correction, if Triton were real and right there behind me.
I walked faster. Not at vampire speed, just faster. The soft plopping sound of steps got closer. Probably a runner. A guy on the Flagler College track or tennis team. So why didn’t he pass me? The footfalls seemed to keep pace with mine. Now that I listened harder, they sounded odd for a human. Sounded more like an animal, and smelled like—
I spun around, and a cat the size of an end table pounced on the hem of my gown.
“Rrryyyow!”
The sound was high-pitched, part scream, part supersized meow that vibrated in my skull. If I were mortal, I ’d be in cardiac arrest. As it was, I clutched my shawl and blinked at the feline who was definitely not Triton. It batted at my hem once more, then sat on its considerable haunches and stared up at me. I stared back. The collarless cat wasn’t fat and wasn’t really quite the size of an end table, just a giant domestic cat with a tail that looked longer than my arm. Short-haired, tawny reddish gold, with lighter fur on its belly and the insides of its legs, it reminded me of a Florida panther I’d seen back in my old life.
I swallowed. Kitty didn’t seem right, so I said, “Hi, Cat.”
Cat stood, stretched, and pranced around to walk in front of me. When I didn’t immediately follow, it shot an impatient glance over its shoulder and curled its tail as if crooking a finger.
First the mind reading, now a magical cat wanted to walk me home? My night couldn’t get much weirder. Cat padded down the street, past the cathedral and shadowed shops. Smack at the entrance to Maggie’s building—not the main bank entrance, but the all-but-hidden one for tenants—Cat stopped, sat, and gave me an expectant glare.
“Oh, nonono,” I told it. “Magical or not, I can’t bring a stray cat to Maggie. In the first place, I don’t know if she likes cats. Plus, we don’t have food. Or a litter box.”
Cat’s response sounded suspiciously like a snort. As if I’d offended it by suggesting it would deign to use a box when it ruled the great outdoors.
I drew my key from the hidden pocket of my skirt, ready to block the door with my foot to keep the cat out. As soon as I began wedging through the entrance, the cat rose and trotted across the street to the plaza. The deeper into the fog it went, the bigger it seemed to grow. A high-pitched, teeth-jarring
rrryyyow
rolled back through the mist just before its tail flicked out of sight. The essence of magical energy lightened on my skin as the cat disappeared, but I
had
to be seeing things. Right? The cat hadn’t grown to panther size. My imagination was in overdrive. Stress. That’s all it was.