Chapter 29
Damon
Ididn’t outwardly react when Max spoke the name of my birthplace, but the mood in our normally comfortable den shifted so perceptibly, even the lone human in our midst noticed.
“Yikes,” Mags mumbled around a mouthful of donut, her gaze darting to each of us in turn. “Is this bad news?”
Worse.
Opalite hadn’t existed as anything other than a ghost town since 1920 or so.
After the gold ran out and a fire destroyed many businesses—including the House of Eternal Moonlight—the electricity was shut off and the last train departed, carrying what was left of the town’s dwindling population with it.
I’d never desired to set foot in that cursed place again, yet hadn’t been able to resist poring over every detail of its demise once the internet made it easy to do so.
I knew it was irrational, but I couldn’t help wondering if this morbid fascination had somehow led this wayward letter to our doorstep.
Dr. Sylvie would tell me to “stop catastrophizing.”
But—
“How the hell did a letter arrive from Opalite to where we live now?” Star growled, fangs lengthening and eyes flashing as her protective instincts took over.
Even forty years after we’d turned her, the sight of our third displaying her vampiric nature took my breath away. My distraction was short lived, however, since her voicing my concerns had dread clawing at my gut.
It’s a very good question…
Max was uncharacteristically quiet, staring down at the letter in his imperceptibly shaking hands.
I had no doubt he was also blaming himself, but in a less abstract way.
Whereas my negative thought patterns were usually the result of an anxiety spiral over hypothetical “what ifs,” Max thought in black and white.
He also saw himself as solely responsible for the safety of our family of three, so he’d probably already decided he’d left a loose end undone somewhere along the way to cause this.
“I fucked up again.”
What did he mean by that?
The uncharacteristically vulnerable comment occurred the day we raced from our coven meeting to save Star at Sizzling Discourse. There’d been more pressing matters at the time, but even though I’d tried bringing it up in the decades since, Max denied ever uttering the words.
I know what I heard.
“We should leave them to their business, angel,” Conor firmly stated as he rose to stand.
Mags made a disgruntled sound, but she dutifully gathered up my messy paperwork—along with another donut from the tray Star had put out—and followed him toward the arched doorway.
Conor paused, allowing his mate to disappear into the hall before turning to address us again.
“If you ever need assistance dealing with anyone from your…” his gaze slid to me before returning to Max, “past, there are those of us involved with Live & Lurk precisely for that reason.”
I believe it.
“We can handle it from here,” Max replied in a clipped tone before plastering on the cheerful mask that made my chest ache. “Thank you, Conor.”
They stared at each other wordlessly as the mysterious creature no doubt helped himself to the contents of Max’s mind. When my mate’s sunny smile morphed into a downright evil grin, I had to assume he was sending some choice words down the telepathic line.
Probably laced with profanity.
Conor snorted in clear amusement before bowing his head and disappearing around the corner. A few seconds later we heard the front door close, signaling we were now alone.
At least physically.
“Uhhhh… I can head back to the cottage if you guys wanna talk…” Chaz mumbled as he awkwardly lumbered to his feet from the extremely saggy armchair he’d claimed as his.
It’s more dog bed-shaped than anything.
His presence may have been annoying me at the moment, but I had no problem with the werewolf, and was eternally grateful for the years he’d spent ensuring our safety until we could find a proper home.
Although, one would think the “debt” his pack owed Max should have been repaid by now…
I just couldn’t understand why he hadn’t moved on since we’d settled down. His older brother, Cash—their pack leader back in Los Angeles—had mentioned Chaz was nursing a broken heart and needed a fresh start himself, but that was forty years ago at this point.
Werewolves weren’t ageless like us, but they still aged far slower than humans, and Chaz didn’t look a day over 35.
The sandy-blond, bronzed beefcake wasn’t my type, but I could admit he was good-looking.
He was incredibly friendly and outgoing, and had seemed to have no shortage of one-night stands at the cottage since we arrived.
All humans though…
A chill ran down my spine that was almost enough to drown out my anxiety over the letter. Despite finding other werewolves to hang out with—all from a local pack full of eligible mates—Chaz had chosen three unavailable vampires to cling to, for some reason.
Has he… imprinted on us?
Are we his pack?
Gross.
To his credit, the werewolf was good company, when I felt like being sociable—which wasn’t often. I chose to keep my social circle small, and I simply preferred my family of three over nearly anyone else on earth.
And right now, my family needs to talk.
More specifically, we need to get Max talking…
Probably sensing the danger to his smokescreen of calm, Max stopped the werewolf from leaving. “Did you bring this into the house, Chaz? Was it in the mailbox, or…”
“I’ve never seen that envelope in my life, I swear!” Chaz held his hands up defensively, even though no one was accusing him of anything. “I once forgot all about the mailbox for a whole year, remember? When I finally checked, there were, like, two flyers from that pizza place down the road.”
What does he do around here again?
Aside from standing in as an—albeit fidgety—model for when neither Max nor Star are around.
“There’s no actual address on the envelope… Maybe Mags delivered it—unknowingly, I mean,” Star helpfully added, always ready to defend both her favorite himbo as well as her chaotic best friend. “Maybe it was already tucked into the folders when she dropped them off a couple weeks ago…”
Max sat back in his chair, absently running his fingernail over the edge of the envelope as he considered. “It’s possible…” He huffed almost angrily, although I could tell it wasn’t aimed at any of us. “Even if I can’t imagine Oren allowing just anyone to sneak into Billie’s office like that.”
“What if they didn’t sneak in?” I quietly asked, drawing everyone’s attention my way. “What if they were pretending to apply for sanctuary with Live & Lurk—in person—and slipped it into the stack when no one was looking… knowing it would make its way to us?”
In unison, our gazes slid to the new stack of applicants, and the knot of dread in my gut tightened further.
Max’s jaw clenched. “There are no names or photos in the files, for privacy purposes. However, we would be able to see what sort of creatures have applied lately…”
It was my turn to sigh. While knowing our enemy’s strengths and weaknesses might help us prepare for battle, they already had that information on us.
And it’s probably safe to assume we’re evenly matched…
Vampires were fairly difficult to kill, but so were most of the other supernaturals we’d encountered. Then you had cryptids like Oren—uniquely powered by the legends surrounding them—and whatever Conor was, he possessed enough power to suck the air from the room, simply by entering it.
Perhaps we should take him up on his offer to help…
I understood Max wanted to handle things ourselves, which actually meant just him, since he was the self-appointed family protector.
If my theory was true, however, not only did this stalker know where we lived—and where we’d lived in the distant past—they knew intimate details about our lives, including Max’s duties for his job.
By Selene…
What if they wanted Max to open it specifically?
I kept that conspiracy theory to myself, even if the thought of anyone harming what was mine made my vision turn red.
Over my dead body.
Max sharply glanced at me in alarm as my fangs abruptly dropped, but it was Star who spoke next. “I can’t stand the suspense! Give me the goddamn envelope, you drama queens. I’ll open it.”
Unsurprisingly, Max didn’t protest when Star reached across the coffee table and impatiently ripped the envelope out of his hands. He’d once jokingly told me he was “attracted to all men and women who think they can boss me around.”
Same.
Knowing our family dynamics well, Chaz sat back down on his ratty chair and settled in for the show.
Like a stray we just can’t get rid of.
I couldn’t even bring myself to care that we had an additional witness to the unfolding spectacle. Perching on the edge of my seat, I wrung my hands, awaiting the verdict as if it was my neck on the line.
It once was.
Back in Opalite.
“It’s… photos,” Star unceremoniously announced, peering into the envelope before reaching in to grab a handful. “Really old photos—probably from when you lived in Nevada.”
Oh?
When I’d first started Googling the roadside attraction once known as Opalite, I’d made the mistake of zooming in on the photos included in the articles. The memories hit me in a way that was visceral, so I’d made a point to avert my eyes after that.
But this could help us identify who’s responsible…
“Oh, it’s the Royale.” Max had joined Star on the couch and was now smiling softly at a photograph she held. “Remember when you used to distract lowly human men with your beauty, pet? While I won at cards…”
“Cheated at cards, you mean,” I muttered, even as a fond smile curled my lip.
To my surprise, I reached for the photograph, which he warily handed over. Even more surprising was the warmth that flooded through me as I gazed down at the circular, sepia image—faded by time—remembering I did have happy memories to look back on, along with the pain.
If only Max would realize the same…
“The Doves of the House of Eternal Moonlight, 1862,” Star recited before peering closer with a gasp. “Oh my gawd, is that…? Damon! This woman looks just like you. Could it be your—”
Max was simultaneously attempting to shush her and shove the offending material back into the envelope, but I’d already snatched the incriminating evidence from her hands.
“I remember this photo…” I eagerly took in every long-forgotten detail of the 6x8 tintype, even if I was still slightly overwhelmed by this turn of events. “It used to hang in the Madam’s office…”
Swallowing thickly, I recalled my final memory from that blood-soaked room, but I mustered a smile as I handed the photo back to Star. “And yes, that was my mother—one of the most prized doves of her day.”
“I can see why.” Star murmured, admiring the image again. “She was a total babe. And she was definitely where you got your looks from.”
“Lemme see.” Now Chaz was leaning closer to assess the photo, his gaze flicking from the image to me and back again. “Yup. The babeness is strong.”
Enough of this.
I could feel my cheeks heating once again, so I quickly redirected. “Are there any other photographs like that one? The Madam had dozens on her wall.”
One from 1885, perhaps?
Even knowing it would break my heart, I was desperate to see the familiar faces of my first—equally unconventional—family.
Especially one face in particular.
“No, that looks like the only line-up shot.” She handed a stack of smaller Kodak-style photographs to Max to shift through as she kept digging. “I wonder who sent these to us…”
I missed whatever Star said next as a sudden blip in Max’s emotions caught my attention. He was staring at a photograph in his pile as if he’d seen a ghost.
A ghost that makes him murderous.
“What is—wait,” I stuttered as he angrily shoved the offending item into his smoking jacket pocket. “I want to see.”
At least, I think I do…
“You want to lay your eyes upon the proverbial gallows that almost took you from me?” he snapped, radiating so much pain, I nearly doubled over.
Oh.
“No,” I confirmed, closing my eyes to find the town archway to Opalite waiting for me in the dark. “I don’t suppose I do.”
Chaz’s phone chimed with an incoming message, blessedly breaking the ensuing tension. When he checked it, he practically leaped to his feet.
Now he’s more than happy to leave.
“Yeah, so… I’m gonna head out and meet the guys at the bar. It’s Thirsty Thursday, and uhh… There'll be lots of humans around. If anyone’s thirsty.”
Max scrubbed his hand down his face. “No thank you, Chaz,” he answered for all of us. “We fed last night, and it would probably be best if we didn’t leave the house just yet. Not until we have a better idea of what we’re dealing with here…”
He always knows best.
After Chaz left, Star gathered up the photographs and slipped them back inside the envelope before decisively closing it shut.
“We’re definitely done with this for now,” she announced. “And I think we should all take a nice bath together before we even think of tackling the pile of applicants.”
She always knows best as well.
Max was also in agreement as he abruptly stood and grabbed our third, slinging her over his shoulder as she shrieked. “Excellent plan. Come, pet! Let’s bury our worries inside our girl.”
I eagerly obeyed, desperately needing the distraction after the evening’s events. Yes, holing up inside our house only protected us against fellow vampires unable to cross the threshold without an invitation, but I would always choose to stay close to home.
With my mates.
The only family I need.