Chapter 15
Iopened my eyes the next morning and felt horrible immediately.
Before leaving last night, Joseph had promised he’d do his best to locate Robert and Serena.
Now on high alert, he’d taken a private jet back to the VGO headquarters to get to work on the search.
He’d assured me he’d let other VGO members know that Robert was not acting of his own volition, so he’d be spared their wrath and avoid becoming collateral damage.
His words were of little comfort to me. I did not for one second believe that a VGO member wouldn’t hurt Robert if it came down to his life or theirs. They didn’t know him beyond a single meeting, so he was virtually a stranger to them, and they were vampires hardly known for their altruism.
With a groan, I got out of bed, the kisses I’d shared with Joseph heavy on my mind.
Since I was already heartsick and afraid, I added guilt to the list of emotions I was plagued with.
My boyfriend had been kidnapped, and what was I doing?
Getting dressed up, going out on dates, and kissing vampires.
Technically, it had been only one date—and not even a real one at that—and only one vampire, though it didn’t lesson my shame.
I hoped Robert would be understanding when he came home. If he came home. Now that I knew he hadn’t betrayed me, I needed him so badly it hurt.
I went into the kitchen to make coffee but then opted for herbal tea to calm my nerves.
There was one thing that still didn’t add up, the deposit that had been placed into my bank account.
I could see no explanation why Serena would “make” Robert put so much, or even any, money into my account.
She’d have no reason to do such a thing unless she was trying to sell the lie of him leaving me.
But if that had been her goal, why did she make the deposit from an anonymous source?
To take my mind off things, I made good on my decision to support Swindled 5.
I pulled out my laptop and found their website.
After listening to a few clips of their songs—they sounded exactly as I’d predicted, like an edgy garage band on the verge of making it big—I ordered a hoodie with the band’s logo.
It was nice having enough money to order something as simple as a hoodie and not worry that it would destroy my budget for the whole month, which is how I’d lived most of my life.
I imagined being raised dirt-poor was a lot like growing up as the stinky kid who always got picked on in class.
No matter how much you cleaned up as an adult, you’d always fill a sting of humiliation from childhood.
I tried doing other small chores that would keep my mind off Robert’s presumed kidnapping. Now that I’d involved the VGO, who had far more resources and connections than I could ever dream, the situation was out of my hands. If I kept stressing, I’d have a heart attack by noon.
Anxious as I was, I considered going for a run.
I even went as far as grabbing my sneakers out of the closet, but I couldn’t find the motivation.
My nerves had left me feeling queasy. Running on an uneasy stomach is never a good idea, not unless you want to have an embarrassing accident in your pants a mile or two from home, which I didn’t.
I decided to get coffee instead, my rational being that it would elevate my heart rate the way running would. Ridiculous, of course, that caffeine could be substituted for exercise, but the herbal tea wasn’t cutting it.
I bit the bullet and went to Lakeside Plaza. I figured I’d have to face going there eventually. I also didn’t have it in me to drive miles out of the way in Robert’s pricey sports car, as I’d had yet to get gas in my own vehicle. It also would do me good to get some fresh air in the outdoor mall.
At the plaza, I was horrified to see they’d reopened the fountain.
A mom and her two young children were perched on its ledge, eating ice cream cones in the hazy sunshine.
The weather in San Francisco never rivaled that of Los Angeles or San Diego, but Bay Area residents liked to pretend it did.
If the sky hinted at brightness, we bustled out like it was July in Malibu, even if the temperature was barely in the mid-fifties.
Next to the mom sat a flock of boisterous teenaged girls.
They were sipping on frozen coffee drinks and snapping lip-puckered selfies, which they took from multiple angles, displeased with the way their foreheads shined or how big they thought their noses looked.
I envied their trivial concerns. The chattiest of the group, a pretty blonde, had her shopping bags resting on the ground between her feet.
It was the exact spot the crime tech had been standing when he pulled Nick’s head from the water.
It was business as usual at the fountain: caution tape removed, stains scrubbed from the concrete, new chlorinated water in place of the old bloody pink stuff.
It made me wonder how oblivious I also was to the crime and violence that had once occurred around me.
How many times had I sat down on the same park bench where someone had been stabbed for the measly twenty bucks in their wallet?
Had I ever crossed a street where a pedestrian had been struck dead by a drunken hit-and-run, or worn an outfit from Goodwill that had been donated after the previous wearer had been murdered?
Man, I was in a grim mood, though maybe I’d also been watching too many true-crime documentaries as of late.
I felt better after I had a few sips of iced coffee. I didn’t like relying on stimulants to get through the day, but evidently I needed them. I could live with that. It wasn’t as bad as being addicted to heroin, though I imagined there were people who would argue otherwise.
A strange black car was in the driveway when I got home. It was of the luxury variety, which I only knew because Marlena drove the same model in red. My pulse went into overdrive at the sight of it, my thoughts immediately going to the VGO’s search for Robert and Serena. I approached with caution.
An old woman sat behind the wheel; an even older man was in the passenger seat.
I could tell they were rich just by looking at them, and not only because they were sitting in a car that cost well over six figures.
Their faces had that pinched old money look, like they’d drop dead of disgust if they were forced to do an ordinary task like cleaning a toilet or taking out the trash.
They hadn’t spoken a word, but they seemed entirely without humor.
I got a better look at the couple as they got out of the car.
The man’s skin was pale and wrinkled like a paper bag on its final reuse, his wispy hair whiter than virgin snow.
His movements were slow and focused, one misstep away from hip-replacement surgery, although he didn’t use a cane or walker.
He had to be at least a hundred years old.
The woman, hair also white, was younger.
I placed her at maybe seventy-five, though wealthy women tended to age better than those who couldn’t afford facelifts and pricey skincare products.
Her boney frame sparkled with diamond, ruby, and emerald jewelry, most Art Deco in style.
Wrists, fingers, neck, and earlobes twinkling, she was like a walking Christmas tree.
I hoped she didn’t parade around downtown like that. Talk about a mugging waiting to happen.
The couple were, unsurprisingly, also impeccably dressed.
The woman wore a tan felt coat with fur trim, opened to reveal a black wool dress underneath.
The man wore a tailored navy three-piece suit, polished opal cufflinks subtly flashing out from his sleeves.
Had I gone to their home, I’d no doubt find other lavish trappings of the wealthy like designer house slippers, silk robes, and monogrammed towels.
I relaxed some as it dawned on me that they obviously weren’t vampires, with it being daytime. Unless they pulled a gun on me, they were physically harmless. I could run at my slowest, side-cramping, knees-aching pace and still get away by miles.
Had the sun been down, I wouldn’t have been so trusting. It didn’t matter how old a vampire looked. They were lethal, white hair and all.
“Can I help you?” I asked, inwardly cringing at the way I’d spoken, like I was addressing children. Before she’d passed away, my grandmother had criticized how a lot of young people patronized the elderly, often unintentionally, acting as if they were feebleminded instead of older and wiser.
The couple exchanged a look, as if deciding who would speak first. The woman stepped forward. “Olivia Taylor?”
My iced coffee was cold in my grip, freezing my fingers stiff.
I switched hands and the ice shifted in the cup.
I still had a fair amount of coffee left, and what a pity it would be if I had to cast my cup aside, should they launch an attack.
They were old, frail, and human, but something about the way they were looking at me was unsettling.
Perhaps they’d been sent by Serena, though it would be an odd choice of assassins.
“What’s this about?”
The couple exchanged another look.
“You are Olivia Taylor, aren’t you?” the man sniped, as if I was trying to pull a fast one on them. His irritation was clear. My years left on this planet are limited, so I don’t have time for this horseshit.
“I am,” I said slowly. Then, with my own irritation, “What can I help you with?”
The woman smiled shyly. “We’re wondering if we could come inside and talk to you?”
“Inside?” I turned around and gaped at Robert’s house. Why, I had no idea—it wasn’t like I didn’t know it was there. “Talk to me about what?”
The man stepped forward. “We—my wife and I—have decided it’s time we finally meet.”
“Who are you?”
“You don’t recognize us?” the woman asked. She turned her face side-to-side, as if maybe I hadn’t gotten a close enough look at her.
“Should I?”
The man said, “We assumed you would, since we’re your great-grandparents.”
I had no doubt that I looked like a fish as I stood there gaping at them with my mouth opening and closing.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you, dear,” the woman beamed, her boney hand curling over my forearm. “I do hope you’ve been enjoying the money we put into your bank account.”