Chapter 2 Ezra
Suggested Listening: The Future Freaks Me Out by Motion City Soundtrack
S ix months. This asshole hasn’t bothered to show up for Gracie—his girlfriend he sure as hell doesn’t deserve—for six fucking months. And now he has the audacity to be upset he was kicked out on his ass?
I watch Puck lying on the concrete like he wants to be there. It’s been almost five whole minutes, and he’s still sprawled in the middle of the parking lot. Not a super uncommon thing to happen. It’s why Gracie had some concrete benches installed.
Thanks to my super vamp senses, I can hear Briella’s car idling in the back lot. It always takes her a moment to organize herself after she gets behind the wheel. From the sound of things, Gracie isn’t driving herself home. Which given the stress she is under right now is good. I’m not taking my eyes off Puck until I know the girls are on their way home.
And that makes me think. Why would he approach Gracie here? At work? I don’t like him, but he knows how much this place means to her. If he actually gives a damn, he’d know better than to approach her while she’s running the shop.
Puck knows where they live. Before he vanished, he’d practically moved in with Gracie. He still had an apartment, and I went with her to deliver his things back when she dropped off his key about eight weeks ago. Which makes me wonder, why’d he come to the shop to see Gracie? Does he know the wards at the house have been set to keep him out now? Is that why he thought this was the best place to casually drop by just a few minutes before closing when he knew she’d be here?
I spray the front window and swipe the rag across the surface on auto-pilot while I stare at the fae, trying to figure him out. I’m still too new to this world to understand things. None of this makes any sense. But I know relationships and broken hearts all too well.
The night I popped by to get my brew and found Gracie redoing the wards is still my highlight of the year. It was about three weeks after Puck had vanished. I wasn’t exactly surprised it was happening. She started talking about it ten days after his vanishing act, but she didn’t make good on the threat for a few weeks. I remember wishing I could do it for her. She’d pop back into the office to cry her eyes out when the girls weren’t around, then put on a brave face. I tried to pretend I didn’t know at first, but we both knew there was no missing it with my senses.
I hate that I love holding Gracie when she cries.
It’s our secret. We don’t talk about it. But she gets his little twitch between her lip and nose and I know. She needs to cry. I’ll make an excuse for her to duck into the office or maybe the storage closet, then when she doesn’t come back immediately, I go to help .
I fucking loathe this bastard for putting her through this. While loving every moment, I get to hold her.
After I was hired, Puck avoided the shop for a little while. The other budtenders commented immediately about how much his absence improved the shop’s vibe. He wants to take over Gracie’s life, managing everything and everyone. But that didn’t last long. And soon enough, Puck was watching my every move.
He’s the only one that sees through me. That first day I put on the Witchweed Dispensary Budtender shirt, Puck knocked into my shoulder and muttered something about keeping an eye on me. That I wasn’t going to sneak in and steal Gracie away from him. He probably thinks he’s too good of a catch for Gracie to let him go so easily. But that’s the thing about my girl. She treats everyone the same. I don’t like the guy for leaving Gracie like this, and I wish he’d have stayed gone. But at the same time, I know this hanging connection has left Gracie off-balance.
Is it time to tell Gracie how I feel? I wasn’t going to say anything when Puck was around. Despite how I view him, I can’t argue that he’s always doted on Gracie. When it comes to being a good boyfriend, Puck puts almost every other guy to shame. Even the ways he would overstep in the shop were all about taking some of the burden off Gracie. Hell, I’ve caught myself thinking I need to take notes plenty of times.
It’s clear to me that she’s been all tied up inside over how things were left with him. She hasn’t cried as much lately, but I can just tell. She hasn’t been ready to move on. But listening to her and thinking back about how she’s changed? The last few months give me a good feeling.
Soon. I’ll tell her soon, because we can’t keep going like this. I need to tell her how I feel. If she doesn’t accept it, that’s fine. But I hate the gnawing guilt every time I hold her.
Sometimes the way Briella and Poppy look at me makes me wonder if they know how I feel about Gracie. But their looks aren’t judgmental. I’ve gleaned enough listening to them to know that witches practice a form of female-centric polygamy with one woman having multiple husbands. For them, it’s about population control. I think.
They saved me. All three of them. And I will never be able to repay them for what they’ve done. I suppose that’s where my affection for Gracie started. Yes, it was the three of them who did all the heavy lifting for my benefit, but it was Gracie that decided they’d do it, then Gracie who wrote the spell, and Gracie who continues to make sure I get the medicine any other witch would charge for. She won’t take payment and all she asks me to do is bring her the ingredients. Which isn’t a bother or a budget breaker, either.
Most of all, none of this was Gracie’s responsibility. And she still chose to help me. Before that vamp gnawed on my neck, I didn’t know a single thing about the paranormal world hiding in plain sight. I can’t even remember how I got to the girl’s house or found Gracie, but I thank any god, spirit, or deity that will listen every damn day of my life for sending me there.
Puck finally sits up and glares over his shoulder at me. He’s not physically hurt. The fae are quite durable and not the least bit delicate, as fairy tales might lead one to believe. He has to be smarting on the inside, though. Talk about pulling no punches. Gracie didn’t even let him get a word in.
I’m so fucking proud of her. The world keeps kicking her when she’s down, despite my best efforts to mitigate some of it. And she comes back swinging every time.
Puck jumps to his feet and flips me off with one hand.
When he slipped inside and I caught sight of him, I saw red. I thought about every time I popped into the office the last six months to find Gracie trying to hide the fact she’d been crying from me and every instance she’s joked about having a gummy or a puff on the clock. Today is the first day I can tell she’s been micro-dosing since I’ve been working here. Even on her worst days she says the customers deserve her full, clear-headed attention even if that means she’s in pain. And Puck, abandoning her like that, added a whole new pain factor into the mix.
More than anything, I hate him for having what I want and not cherishing it. I don’t know a lot about this world still. Sometimes the more I learn, the uglier it seems. But I do know these girls are the good ones. And Gracie is the kind of woman worth waiting for. I’m not stupid. I know there’s a very good chance I’ll continue being in love with her from afar while she never returns my feelings. And that’s okay. For whatever reason, the universe saw fit to ensure we met, and while I don’t know what I am or what happens next, I can be here for Gracie the way she was there for me. I’ll protect her from the coven and anyone else who means her harm.
But what to do about her ex?
It’s too much to hope that Puck will quietly go away and leave Gracie alone. He has let me know at every possible moment that Gracie was his and he wasn’t inclined to share. The first time he said that I was shocked about the sharing bit, but I’ve come to learn that polyamory is fairly common among the non-humans. His commitment to monogamy is what’s culturally strange.
Which is another thing I don’t get about Puck. If it’s so common to share partners, why be so selfish? Doesn’t Gracie deserve all of the love she can get? Puck is an egotistical bastard that only thinks about himself, and I’m glad Gracie is done with him while I hate that part of her that hoped he’d show back up just died. But after that little speech, I have some measure of hope. No, Gracie won’t want to date me now. I don’t expect she will anytime soon. And not just because of Puck. Officially, I don’t know about the trouble with the coven. That’s witch business the girls don’t share, but vampire hearing is something else.
I know many of their secrets. They’re safe with me. And if I use this inside knowledge to bide my time until I think Gracie has healed enough to be open to something new… So fucking what? She deserves someone who will take care of her on her bad days and the good ones. And I want to be that guy for her. My whole life, people have only wanted me around for what I could do for them. Gracie and this place? It’s the first time someone actually wants me around for me .
I flip off the lights and watch the parking lot for a little while longer in case Puck decides to come back. I tidy up the shop and secure the witchweed products with the security spell. Since Jenn skipped out early on Gracie’s orders, I handle the register and collect the cash for the deposit. Because human banks are still working through their issues accepting money associated with dispensary business, the girls use a paranormal bank that doesn’t have any issue with the nature of their business. It’s a time-consuming process that I enjoy.
My phone chimes and everything inside of me tightens.
Fuck, yes.
Of course, I knew what day it was. But I’ve very carefully conditioned myself to only get excited when the alarm goes off. Otherwise, I might just pop a boner in the store. And that’s super uncomfortable when half the female customer base likes to jiggle their tits at me in the hopes of a discount. Unfortunately for them, there is currently only one set of boobs I’m interested in.
I finish the deposit paperwork for the pickup tomorrow before rounding out my list of store closing tasks. It’s a system I know by heart. The routine is soothing when I’d otherwise be gnawing on the inside of my mouth. I try to keep these visits as casual as possible while also finding every possible reason to linger, hang out, or help around the house. I hesitate to say that I’ve cultivated a friendship with Gracie. Sometimes I think her feelings toward me are more dutiful and less fond. But even if she doesn’t return my feelings, I’d want to be a good friend. I’d want to be someone she can lean on.
I’m very aware that I’ve got issues. My parents never hesitate to remind me how I fucked up their lives. How they’d have it all if I’d just done my job and kept quiet. But that’s just it. To them, I was never a person. I wasn’t their kid. I was simply a means to make money to support their opulent lifestyle.
To Gracie, I’m just me. Ezra. Her store manager that she occasionally uses as a human tissue to cry her eyes out.
It works for now.
I’m content.
Besides, Gracie has too much on her plate. I know she does. But I’m going to have to come clean soon. And not just about my feelings, either.
I’m not a half-vampire. I’m no longer a thrall. And I’m sure as fuck not a real vampire. No, I’ve become something else entirely. Whatever potion she’s given me has changed me. She’s given me power and the ability to protect her. But I can’t offer to step into the role of her bodyguard until I’m confident that I can control the bloodlust.
I exit out the back of the shop and tip my head up, letting the warmth soak into my skin. After I became a thrall, I couldn’t even come into contact with light through tinted windows without it frying my skin. The thirst for blood was all-consuming. And I could hear my sire’s voice in my head, whispering orders to me if I was awake or asleep. Those first few days in Gracie’s basement are still a blur. But then her magic took hold, and she gave me my life back. I can’t do full sun for long, and by the end of most work days, the sun coming through the windows has pushed me to my limit. But I’m not a prisoner anymore.
There’s still plenty of time until the sun sets. I can get to my place and to Gracie’s quick enough. But I won’t be able to make it home before the sun sets. I’ll have to spend the night in the woods out behind Gracie’s place if I can’t casually manage to fall asleep on her sofa tonight. She’s done so much for me, which is why I can’t bring myself to tell her about my little problem. Namely, the thralls that keep showing up trying to drag me back to our sire. Seems the guy really doesn’t like someone taking his chew toys.
Jenn, the budtender that works the most hours, is a very adept warlock, and helped place protections on my apartment to keep the thralls out. I could have asked Gracie, but that was back when Puck was still around and asking would have caused a fight for her. So I didn’t. Besides, she would take my problems personally and decide they’re hers to fix. I can’t do that to her.
It took me a long time to understand that witches are those who can trace their lineage back to only having other witches in their ancestry. Warlocks are the offspring of witches who broke rank and had children with non-witches. There’s a surprising amount of discrimination when it comes to the paranormal world. Everyone hates someone else on account of what shape their ears are, who someone’s great grandparents were, or how you peel a carrot. The fact that Gracie and the girls are above all of that makes me love her even more.
The wards Jenn did have held out really well. The only issue is getting past those wards and into the apartment before the thralls show up. Most nights they’re loitering outside the moment the sun sets. I’ve seen comments on the community message board about the higher number of people hanging around and the increase in missing pets. They make me feel so fucking guilty to the point that I’ve taken out a few thralls on purpose instead of trying to discourage them.
Before I finish locking up, I check my phone. Other than a text from Jenn fishing for information about what happened after she left, there’s nothing new.
It was too much to hope that Gracie might have reached out to me looking for a shoulder to lean on. She never asks or looks for help.
I slip my sunglasses on and lock the backdoor. This time of year, it’s still bright at seven. At least it’s mid-week. We stay open until midnight on the weekends. I’m not concerned about the thralls coming to the shop yet. The place is warded and protected for all manner of things. And my sire seems to have some aversion to hunting me here.
After a quick scan of the parking lot behind the building, I take off, moving swiftly between the buildings using my super vamp speed to stay out of sight. Sunset isn’t for another ninety minutes. More than enough time to take a quick shower, then drive over. The trips to the Gracie’s house are just about the only time I drive anymore. What’s the point when my feet get me around much faster and way more economical?
After I was turned, I moved out of the apartment I’d been renting. My place had been in a sky rise with hundreds of apartments squeezed in all around me. It was torture. I heard everything. Smelled everything. And with some of my neighbors, that was entirely too much information.
I’d have liked to have bought a place, or maybe rented a small house somewhere, but I had to move quickly. I wound up subleasing an apartment in a small building with only six units on a top floor. It’s the smallest unit in the building, but it comes with a private access stair. It used to be the landlord’s apartment prior to him getting married.
One positive unintended result of the move is that my parents don’t know where I am these days, which is really fucking nice. I thought when I began moving around the country by randomly drawing the names of cities out of a jar that they’d get the hint. I don’t want them in my life if I’m just an ATM to them.
Eventually, they’ll catch up to me. And eventually they’ll figure out where I work. I know I should come clean and tell the girls about my past before it comes knocking. I just… I don’t want to. They’ll look at me differently. There will be questions. I want to stay Ezra the budtender for a while and not the washed up child actor whose career was destroyed by his parents. It’s not like I ever wanted to be an actor. Too much attention for all the wrong reasons.
I’ve got enough money to live modestly for the rest of my life if I want to, and that’s good enough for me. The money I’m making now pays for therapy from a nice werewolf three times a week. He’s also been a big source of intel on the paranormal world and helping me transition.
I round the corner into the small parking lot I share with the other tenants and stop in the shade of the half-dead tree that rules the front yard. The thing refuses to die.
My skin crawls and a shiver races up the back of my neck. It’s like some mystical vamp sense is ringing in my ears.
Something doesn’t feel right.
I glance around the parking lot, but I’m alone with a few other cars. I recognize each one.
My sire has only sent thralls after me, but it stands to reason at some point he’ll get tired of losing grunts and call in someone more capable of dealing with me. Have we gotten to that point? Have I grown lazy?
Fuck.
Now is not the time for this.
I jog across the parking lot and around the corner to the private stair that leads up to my unit off the back of the building. The lock hasn’t been tampered with, but I can’t shake the feeling that something is very much off. I shove the door open and dart inside, twisting the magically enhanced lock for good measure.
“Newbies always forget the balcony,” a deep voice says a moment before something hard and heavy crashes into the back of my head.
My eyes cross, and for a moment my knees give way before I catch myself.
For a split second, terror claws at my throat and it’s hard to breathe. I want to scream, but the old fear that no one will answer keeps me silent.
I’m not a defenseless kid anymore.
Snarling, I whirl and drive my elbow into the ribs of whoever is behind me. I catch sight of a white male, possibly in his thirties with short dark hair, wearing a leather jacket right before my fist connects with his jaw.
It feels like I just punched a mountain. I’ve had plenty of opportunity to throw down with the thralls. This guy is different. Immediately, I know this guy isn’t another meat-grinder offering. This is my sire raising the stakes.
The guy’s head snaps back, and he staggers away from me, shaking his head.
“Fucking hell,” he grumbles and straightens, wiping the back of his hand across his face and smearing a bit of blood. “They said you hit like a freight train. They weren’t wrong.”
I draw in the scent of old blood.
Vampire.
We smell a little dead no matter what. It’s inescapable.
“What are you here for?” I demand.
The other vampire takes a step back, posture relaxed but ready.
There isn’t much in my place. A sectional and a TV are the only things out here. Not much to replace. Then again, it is a tiny ass apartment.
“You actually have to ask?” he scoffs.
I shrug. “Just confirming my suspicions.”
“I’d really rather not have this fight, if I’m being honest,” he says. “You should fall in line and act like a good little thrall, if you want to keep living. There are things worse than death. I know. You probably see me as the bad guy here, and I can’t deny that this job sucks, but this is for the best. You’ll get used to it.”
The old anger rises up in me. I was trapped and powerless for so long.
Never again.
I wouldn’t choose to become a vampire, but now that I have this power, I refuse to be someone else’s plaything.
“Not going to happen.” I roll my shoulders to loosen them up. “You want to do this, or do you want to leave?”
He holds up his hand and stares at me with an astonishing amount of earnestness. “You’re making a mistake. Those that step out of line get drained repeatedly. He won’t let you die. It will be a hundred years of torture. If you’re lucky. You don’t want to draw too much attention to yourself.”
“I’m not someone’s fucking thrall.”
He holds his hands up. “Adjusting is a bitch. You’ve obviously got some insanely strong mental fortitude to last this long, but you can’t fight him. Not forever. I’m really not trying to start anything. Just doing my job.”
“You say that after trying to get the drop on me?” The longer this takes, the more time it will be before I can get to Gracie’s.
“I know how this looks. I’m doing this for your own good, buddy. Just come with me and it’ll all be okay,” he says.
“Fuck this,” I mutter.
Lunging, I swing for the space where he was. The vampire moves too fast, easily avoiding my first punch. But that puts him between me, the wall, and nowhere else to go. I reverse direction and drive my left elbow back, then whirl with a hard uppercut. His head snaps back, denting the drywall.
Damn it.
There goes my safety deposit.
The fucker grabs my flat screen TV, rips it off the wall, and smacks me with it.
As far as weapons go, a flat screen TV is a pretty poor one. Too big. Not enough hard edges.
I grab the vamp’s arm and turn, flinging him across the room. He screams, arms and legs kicking as he hits the opposite wall, caving in the drywall, then drops onto the sofa and bounces off onto the floor.
“What the fuck, man?” he snarls as he gets to his feet, staring at me with wild eyes. “Just what the hell are you? Did he give you some of his blood? Did you lick it off the ground or something? Tell me!”
“Really thought they’d have sent someone… I don’t know. More capable?” I mutter.
All this time I’ve been worried about what comes after a thrall. This is what they sent after me? What a fucking joke.
I crack my knuckles and step around the broken TV.
The vampire leaps up, catching me off-guard and drives his fist into my jaw. I stagger back as he rips open the sliding glass door and leaps off the balcony.
Is it just me, or are vampires nothing but wimps? Did Buffy over-sell the scary factor of vamps? Or has Gracie made me into something completely different? And what did he mean by licking blood off the pavement? Is that what vamps are into these days?