CHAPTER ELEVEN || COLE
“Ineed your help,” I said, walking up to Harris’s desk two hours later. It was stacked with case files, paperwork, and fast-food napkins.
The detective wrenched his eyes away from the computer screen and looked at me as if I were an oncoming train and he was the helpless deer about to get mowed over.
“You can’t possibly be hungry again,” Harris hissed as I took the seat at his desk. “You just ate.”
“Speaking of which, how’s the blonde doing?”
“Traumatized,” Harris said. “Grateful to be alive. Hounded by the press, probably. She was almost murdered by a psychopath.”
“And she was saved by a handsome vampire.” I grinned. “You know what? They ought to make a movie about it. I’d play myself, obviously.”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t you have even a shred of decency?”
“Not really. But this is Los Angeles. Who does?”
He rubbed his temples. “Every time I see you, it takes another year off my life. What do you want?”
“Grumpy.” I smirked. “I knew I should’ve brought donuts.”
Harris glared.
“I need to learn how to date a human.”
Harris’s eyes widened. “Wait. Like—how to go on a date with a human so you can get close enough to him to… you know?”
“I’m not sure I do know,” I replied, puzzled.
“So you can… do what you do?”
I blinked at him, trying to parse his meaning. Then it clicked.
“Oh! No, I don’t plan to murder him for his blood, if that’s what you’re asking. He’s a doctor, not a serial killer.”
Harris shot me a scandalized look. “Cole, this is a police station.”
I rolled my eyes. So touchy.
“Relax. Everyone here is hypnotized to ignore us when we’re together. You know that.”
Harris glowered.
I tried again. “I met a very nice human man who saves lives for a living, and I’d like to take him on a proper date. I want to get to know him better. But every time I try to ask him about himself, Eli acts like I’m trying to extract his teeth. How do humans do this?”
“It’s called empathy.”
“Sounds painful.”
“Sometimes it is,” Harris muttered. Leaning back in his seat, he added, “Helping you hunt serial killers is one thing, but I’m not sure it’s ethical to teach you how to seduce this poor guy.”
I waved that away. Harris was lovely, but his idea of seduction probably involved a six-pack of water-tasting beer and telling his date he loved them. No thank you.
“Oh, I have no problems seducing him. I don’t need your help with that. I want to get to know him.”
Harris stared at me, mystified. “Why? Does he have information you need?”
I nodded solemnly. “About himself, yes.”
“Is he a victim of a crime? Did a bad guy try to—”
“Detective, no!” I exclaimed, exasperated. “This has nothing to do with my next kill. I’ve met a very nice boy, and I’m having trouble getting to know him. That’s all.”
Harris frowned, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. When it didn’t, he asked, “Well, what have you tried so far?”
I started counting on my fingers. “Well, I’ve shown up at his work a few times, I guess. I also broke into his home and stole his journal. And then I bought the house next door and moved in so I could keep an eye on him and his sister.”
Harris’s eyes widened as I spoke.
“I picked him up from work and drove him home this morning,” I added, feeling defensive. “He’d done a sixteen-hour shift, and I was worried he might be a danger to himself and others. It’s the second time I’ve given him a ride home.”
“This guy willingly got into a car with you? Twice?”
“I can be very persuasive.”
He scowled. “You whammied him. First step: stop messing with his head. More than you already do normally.”
I winced.
“Wait—” Harris stared at me. “That’s a good question. Why wouldn’t you just mind-fuck him into telling you whatever you want?”
“That defeats the purpose of a date,” I said, dancing around the fact that Doctor De La Cruz was somehow impervious to my hypnotic powers. “I’m taking Eli to Disneyland tonight.”
Harris blinked rapidly. “Disneyland? You’re going to Disneyland?”
“It’s been a while since I was there,” I nodded. “About thirty years, give or take. Last time I was stalking a guy who liked to hurt kids. It was his hunting ground.”
“Please tell me you caught him.”
“Of course, Detective. And I dragged him off park grounds before I tore his throat out, so no children would witness it. I’m not an asshole.”
Harris rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched. “Okay, but you’ll need to back up and let me process this. Why did you buy the house next door? And why does he need you to keep an eye on him?”
“The vampire attack might’ve been random,” I said. “Or it might not have been. It might’ve been a message for me. If so, anyone too close to me is in danger. I bought the house next door so I could protect him. Just in case.”
“Good to know where I stand,” Harris sighed.
“Oh, don’t take it personally. Your survival instincts are sharp. And you’d actually call me if you saw something odd. If it’s a message, whoever sent it is drawing me out.” I paused. “But it’s probably nothing, of course.”
“If it’s nothing, maybe you should leave Eli alone.”
“It’s too late for that.”
“Poor guy,” Harris said.
“Detective, know that I have no intention of harming him or his sister. Nor will I let anyone else harm him. Ever.”
Harris’s eyes widened—presumably at the vehemence in my voice. “You don’t—you couldn’t possibly—what?”
“Is this a low-blood-sugar thing?” I demanded, frowning. “You humans are so fragile. I knew I should’ve brought donuts.”
“It’s not a low-blood-sugar thing!” Harris snapped. “But you can’t possibly care about what happens to him!” Then he paused, searching my expression. Some of the outrage drained away. More quietly, he asked, “Do you?”
“He’s amusing. And I don’t want him harmed.” True, yes—but not the whole truth.
Harris didn’t miss it. “If we’re doing radical honesty, it should be a two-way street.”
“The idea of anything bad happening to him is… uncomfortable,” I admitted. “And the idea of him being unhappy is even worse.”
“Are you falling in love with him?”
“Don’t be absurd. I can’t love anyone.”
Harris didn’t seem convinced. He studied me, then abruptly grabbed a notepad, flipped it open, and penned a list. I watched quietly.
After a moment, I asked, “What are you doing, Detective?”
“I’m helping you,” Harris said, sighing. “For the record, I never thought I’d agree to be your human wingman.”
He tore the paper off and handed it to me. “Memorize this list. Ask him these questions. And do your best to actually listen to him. I know you like talking, but a conversation is give and take.”
“I’m offended,” I said, taking the paper.
Then I grinned as I read the questions—they were excellent.
“Yeah, it’s obvious,” Harris said, resettling in his chair. “It’s hard to believe you actually like this guy. And that you’re going to Disneyland. On purpose.”
I shrugged.
“It’s a strange world, I guess,” he remarked.
“The strangest,” I agreed.
* * *
“What’s your idea of a perfect day off?”
It was hours later, and we had already done most of the rides Eli wanted to do.
He held a giant cotton candy in one hand and a stuffed animal the size of his torso in the other.
I had to admit, the park was charming—especially an hour before closing on a weekday.
Still busy, but not that busy. It was almost as though we had the place to ourselves.
“Cooking dinner and watching a movie. Cuddling up on the couch with a good book. Listening to the sound of the rain. Maybe with a cat or something.”
Interesting. Eli was something of a homebody, then—more prone to quiet moments than to dazzling lights, adventure, and excitement. Odd, given his career choice. Or perhaps not so odd; maybe he craved safety and calm because of his job.
“You don’t own a cat,” I pointed out.
He shrugged. “I don’t usually get the chance to cook dinner, either. Cooking for one is depressing.”
“You live with your sister.”
His expression darkened slightly. “She usually goes to bed early.”
The subtext there was impossible to miss, and it would take a slower vampire than myself to fail to put two and two together. He meant she usually passed out early.
“What sorts of food do you enjoy?” I asked.
“Italian and Mexican, mainly. I’ve tried a couple of fancy French recipes, but they haven’t really turned out. I’m not the best in the kitchen.”
“Nonsense,” I said, smiling. France was the country I was born in.
Granted, I had grown up in a noble household and then had promptly become a vampire, so I hadn’t ever actually cooked anything.
But it couldn’t really be so hard, could it?
I added, “Add plenty of butter and cream and it’s hard to go wrong, I’d imagine.
And, of course, pair the meal with a good loaf of bread and a bit of wine. ”
Eli hesitated. “Do you eat?”
I frowned. What an odd question. And the good doctor’s pulse quickened the moment he asked it. But his expression was deceptively casual.
“I do.”
While I didn’t need human food, I could still consume it and find it enjoyable. My body was still more or less human, including my taste buds. But I no longer craved it—not the way I craved blood. Or killing.
“What sorts of food do you enjoy?” Eli asked, a challenge entering his voice, like he didn’t quite believe me.
“I’m rather fond of Mexican food. Thai food. And, of course, I enjoy French cuisine as well.”
“Why ‘of course’?” Eli asked.
“Pardon?”
“You said, ‘of course, you enjoy French cuisine.’ Why?”
It was my turn to hesitate. “I’m from France. Originally.”
Eli stopped dead, his eyes widening in obvious alarm. “But there’s no trace of a French accent in your voice.”
“Why is that unusual?”
“How would I have known to associate you with France?” he muttered, almost to himself. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Doctor De La Cruz, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He shook his head, grimacing. “Never mind.”