Stitched In Fate (Pittsburgh Vampires #30)

CHAPTER ONE

"I'll see what I can do, I can't promise, though. I don’t know if I’ll get extra hours this week.”

"Always, whining, complaining, and making excuses. All we ask is for you to care even a tiny bit." His father leaned into the victimhood, which worked every time, and with a heavy, defeated sigh, he continued. "Do you want us on the street? Do you want your parents living on the streets?"

“No, sir.”

"Then do your duty." With that, he hung up, striking a finality with firm expectations. Myles sank back onto his sofa and dropped his phone on the cushion. They wanted him to cover their rent again, but he didn't have the money. He could help, but he didn’t have enough to cover the entire amount.

He closed his eyes and leaned back into the cushions.

They needed eight hundred to cover the rent, and he only had three in savings.

He'd covered their electricity, water, and heat last month, and it had taken most of what he had saved.

Every month, it was something, and it was to the point he couldn't cover their bills and his own.

His job paid decently, but it wasn't enough to support himself and his parents.

They had income: his father retired with a pension, and his mother had an inheritance from her parents structured in a trust, but they never seemed to have any money; they were always broke when bills came due.

Myles checked his watch and saw that he would soon have to get ready for work. He worked as a sales associate/assistant tailor at Classic Threads, a men's clothing store. It wasn't high-end, but it was respectable, and the staff were skilled and professional.

He had the noon to eight shift today because two clients had evening appointments for measurements.

Management preferred that he handle measurements and fabric decisions.

Randy, the manager, said he was more patient than the others.

Actually, the issue was Mr. Kranz, the tailor; he wasn't a people person, but he was an excellent tailor.

Myles handled the social part, Mr. Kranz handled the artistic application, and it all worked out.

He had two hours, so he headed to his bedroom to relax and get ready.

He hated rushing. If you start out in a rush, the whole day feels rushed.

Putting his parents' crisis out of his mind, he tried to focus on the day.

Since the discovery of the return of the Chameleon, the Hadden Coven had once again increased patrols through the city. Every culprit involved in the recent kidnapping in the lowlands had been dealt with, everyone except the Chameleon, who led the diabolical operation.

Master Hadden had notified the paranormal world of the resurgence, and everyone was taking proper precautions. The Chameleon was a serious situation, but nothing could be done until he made himself known once again, so life went on as usual, and the Coven got on with living.

Downtown patrols were constant, with soldiers and guards taking turns surveilling the city. Flint Marsh and Lazlo Baxter, two Hadden Center guards, were scheduled to patrol the east side, which was quiet at night with few bars or nighttime establishments. The area was mostly shops and offices.

It was early afternoon, and Flint met Lazlo for a late lunch at the dining hall before the beginning of their shift.

Flint was born and raised in the Hadden Coven, whereas Lazlo had been one of the new recruits.

Everyone agreed it was one of the best decisions made when Master Hadden issued the call to expand membership.

The influx of new blood strengthened the Coven in ways that would have taken decades or more, and Master Hadden achieved it in a span of one month. The Hadden Coven was now one of the most powerful, or perhaps the most powerful, Coven in the country.

Flint and Lazlo were often assigned to work together, and over time, they'd become friends. Flint was steady, watchful, and distant, whereas Lazlo was outgoing and charming. They worked well together, balancing each other out. Both were highly skilled and deadly soldiers.

“The east side is pretty tame. I doubt we'll see any action tonight," Lazlo commented as they ate. “It’s just shops that close up early and office buildings that do likewise.” He sounded disappointed.

“You never know where an infection will take root," Flint responded. “Pittsburgh is active, very active in a lot of ways. Magic isn’t the only issue in town. Maybe we’ll see some action.”

“The empty warehouses behind the Webster Office building might yield some action.” Lazlo offered.

“The Corner Pub just down from that building is also a possibility.” Flint offered. “It has a reputation for dark dealings and a sketchy clientele.”

“Speaking of sketchy clientele, how do you feel about stopping at the Ruby Light after we get off?” Lazlo smiled.

“Sounds good.” Flint liked the Ruby Light; it was unpretentious, and although definitely sketchy, it was also predictable.

Nothing too heavy ever went down; it was a good place to relax.

There were no expectations in a place like the Ruby Light apart from minding your own business, and Flint was an expert at minding his own business.

“Myles!" Randy yelled from the front, too lazy to walk into the back of the shop to speak to him.

Myles left the client he was measuring, excusing himself to go see what Randy wanted.

Randy was the manager and the owner's son.

Randy was, for the most part, a pretty chill guy.

It was unlike him to sound so distressed, so he hurried out to see what the issue was.

“How much longer are you going to be with that guy?” Myles just stood there staring at Randy for a few seconds.

Randy was being groomed to take over the shop and be the senior manager of Classic Threads, along with a couple of other stores his father owned on the other side of town.

One of the stores was a sex shop, and Randy didn't talk about it much, which Myles appreciated.

"I need another thirty minutes at least. Why?"

“I don’t like being out here alone. It makes the shop look bare and empty with just one associate on the floor.

” Myles wasn’t sure if he was being serious or just lonely.

Randy wasn’t very good with customers and tended to be a bit impatient.

He was good with numbers and the non-human aspect of business, but like Mr. Kranz, he wasn’t much of a people person.

“Thirty minutes and I’ll be out front.”

“Okay, make it fast.” Myles nodded and headed back to finish his measurements. The tailor expected to start the order when he arrived in the morning, and it was Myles’s job to make sure everything was ready.

“Myles!” Fuck not again. Myles excused himself again and went to the front.

“What now?” Myles could not hide his irritation, but things changed when he saw three men standing around Randy, their stances and expressions angry and aggressive.

“Go back where you came from if you don’t want a piece of this.” The one with his fist buried in Randy’s shirt front made the statement. He was a huge, muscled blonde. Myles pulled out his phone and dialed the police.

"Let him go, the police are on their way.” Myles was trying to sound forceful, but the crack in his voice gave him away. The leader dropped Randy and charged at Myles, landing a punch to his jaw, knocking him to the floor.

“Learn to mind your own business.” The guy’s voice was filled with hatred and contempt.

He looked as if he were gearing up for another attack, but the sound of sirens had them rushing from the shop and disappearing.

Myles was getting up when the officers entered, and the next hour was spent filling out a report.

They didn’t have much except descriptions.

Randy said he didn't know them, but the way he twitched made Myles pretty sure Randy knew all of them.

Like the guy said, Myles needed to mind his own business, and he decided to start doing that immediately. He didn’t question Randy, just went back to work once the police had gone. His customer, who was getting measurements, had left when the police arrived and rescheduled for next week.

The tailor would not be happy since he worked on a tight schedule, but there was nothing Myles could do about it. Everyone seemed to have issues today, and Myles was tired of it all: his parents, Randy, the tailor, and the hooligans. He was tired of it all.

He was finishing in the back, cleaning up and getting things organized when he heard the main door open, and someone enter.

He started toward the main room and caught his reflection in the full-length mirror.

The punch to the face was noticeable, but it had not started to bruise.

It was red and swollen, but maybe if he kept his head down, no one would notice.