Chapter 21
Iroll out my yoga mat and stretch my arms over my head. Sore from getting roughed up the last few days, my muscles are stiff and tight. Not working out for several days in a row has left me feeling a little lazy, too, and now’s not the time to get out of practice.
I put my earbuds in, crank up my music, and start with a warm-up. I move into a sun salutation, focusing on my breathing and nothing else. With my eyes closed and the music pumping in my ears, I don’t hear the front door open and close. The floor vibrates and my eyes fly open.
Through my legs, I see Thomas and Gilbert in the threshold of the living room, admiring my ass. I stand up and pull the earbuds out.
“Don’t stop because of us,” Thomas says with a smirk.
“We’ll gladly keep watch,” Gilbert agrees.
Bringing my arms over my head in a stretch, I cross the room and stop in front of Thomas.
He looks as human as ever. There is no gray at all left in his skin.
The claws have retracted back on his hands, and even the fangs aren’t as obvious.
The same goes for Gilbert, worlds different than the first night they woke up.
“Morning,” I say with a smile. “I’m guessing you’re hungry?”
Thomas smiles. “You know me well.”
“I have a casserole in the oven. Hopefully it’s good. You know I’m not much of a cook.” I look past them and see Hasan and Jacques on the porch, looking out over the yard. Jacques says something, body tensing, and takes off, wings spread in flight.
I’ll never get used to the sight of him soaring into the air.
“You’ve said that,” Gilbert starts. “Do you have servants who cook for you?”
“No,” I reply with a laugh. “Nowadays, you just go pick up your food from restaurants. I wish I could take you with me someday.”
“Someday,” Thomas echoes.
We go into the kitchen and the twins set the table while I check on dinner, though I’m not sure exactly what I’m checking on. I followed the recipe and still have five minutes left on the timer before I’m supposed to take it out.
Hasan comes in right as I’m putting bowls of salad on the table, stopping behind me.
He wraps his arms around my middle, and I put the last bowl down and twist in his embrace, hooking my arms around his neck.
He kisses my cheek, beard rough on my skin.
Shivers go down my spine, and I have to stand on my tippy toes to even come close to kissing him back.
“Do you need help?” he asks, breaking away from me.
“Uh, you could fill glasses with water.”
He nods and goes to the cabinet for the glasses. I take a moment, watching the guys help get the table ready for dinner, and realize how much I’ve wanted this for years and years. I’ve wanted it so much it turned into a dull ache in my chest, one I was starting to lose hope on ever obtaining.
A family.
Albeit a weird, dysfunctional family with four members here more or less against their will. I never thought I’d trust these guys, but it’s there and it’s growing. And I like them.
“I think I had a dream last night,” Thomas tells me.
“You dreamed?” Gilbert asks his brother. “I haven’t had a dream in a thousand fucking years. The last dream I remember was before the curse. It was about a dark-haired whore from the brothel outside of town.”
I roll my eyes. “You can’t call women ‘whores’ anymore, you know. Even if they sell themselves for sex. It’s considered an offensive insult now.”
“What do you call them, then?”
“Well, it’s illegal, but they’re called prostitutes.”
Thomas makes a face. “That’s a weird word.”
“I guess. And there’s only a few brothels in the country that operate legally.”
“Interesting.” Thomas shrugs. “I always thought they were crude.”
“Not crude enough to stop going,” Gilbert mutters under his breath.
I laugh. “Times have changed, right?” I look at Thomas. “What was your dream about?”
He flashes me a cocky grin and wiggles his eyebrows. “You.”
Hasan puts another glass of water on the table. His hands are so big they dwarf the glass. “I think I had a dream, too. I don’t remember people, only feelings.”
“That’s a good sign, right?” I ask. “Becoming more and more human would make it easier to break the curse. You all look much more human than the first night you woke up.”
“We don’t dream.” Jacques’s voice is sharp behind us, startling me just a bit.
I quickly turn around, finding him a few feet back in the darkened hall connecting the kitchen to the dining room.
His wings block out any light behind him.
Still, I notice the bits of gray coloring left on his skin, mottled and blotchy.
That pained look is back on his face, and it hurts my heart.
I want to go to him, put my lips against his, and feel my heart beat in tempo with his heart.
But I don’t. Instead, I turn the timer off with a few minutes to spare and pull the casserole from the oven. No one speaks as we fill our plates and sit around the table.
“You didn’t get very much,” Hasan says to me, eyeballing the small portion of food on my plate.
“I already had dinner,” I tell him. “With a crazy homeless man who had great info on the vampires.” Everyone stares at me. “I’ll explain,” I say, and recap everything Mr. McMillan told me.
“All signs point to the bar. And I did some more digging. The free clinic opened half a year after the bar. And they get a large donation every quarter from the people who own said bar.”
I look up, a smile on my face. I always feel a rush when I get a break in a case. I’ve been chasing this lead for days and finally got through to something.
“You’re right,” Thomas agrees. “It’s too big of a coincidence to be just that.”
“There are pretty strict regulations when it comes to donating blood,” I tell the guys, who thought the concept was weird.
“I mean, you’ll always run into people who don’t follow protocol, but if a lot of blood went missing, it would be noticed.
People would be fired and it’d get looked into.
From what I’ve heard, it seems like the vampires really don’t want to be found, especially if they’ve been here for hundreds of years. ”
I get up and go to my bag, pulling out a folder full of files. “I had an officer pull all unsolved cases with blood loss as the cause of death. I filtered through them to the ones that could be vampires, and most of these victims are homeless.”
“People no one will look for or even notice if they go missing,” Jacques finishes.
“Right,” I say, excitement building. I’m getting closer and closer to cracking this thing.
“What is your plan?” Hasan asks carefully. He wasn’t fond of my last plan so much, so he followed me to the bar.
“Tomorrow—during the day, of course—I’m going to check out the free clinic.
You know, just poke around as a regular person, not as a cop, and see if I get a feel for anything.
This clinic provides free healthcare to a lot of people, so I need to be careful in how I handle things.
I don’t want it to get shut down if it doesn’t have to be. ”
“And if it does?” Gilbert asks.
“Then I’ll shut it down. I can’t imagine the whole thing is just a ruse, though. Or maybe I don’t want it to be. It’s open from nine AM to four PM. Even in the winter, those are daylight hours with human employees.”
“And then what?” Hasan asks.
I shake my head. “I’m not sure, to be honest. I’m not going back to look for vampires at night again, I can tell you that much.
Not until I’ve figured out how to do that thing again.
” I hold up my hand, imagining it on fire.
“But I did pick up some nice-sized sticks from the yard and brought several knives for whittling wooden stakes later.”
“I’ll help you,” Hasan says with a smile. “It’s been a while since I’ve sharpened any weapons.”
“It’s getting late.” Jacques tears his eyes away from the TV for the first time in at least half an episode.
I was able to hook my laptop up to the old TV in the living room and stream Netflix, and the guys are enthralled.
We’re currently working our way through The Office, which I find hilarious no matter how many times I watch it.
A lot of the humor is lost with the guys not understanding the references.
“I don’t have to go to work in the morning, so I can sleep in.
Which is exactly what I plan to do,” I say, carefully dragging my knife down along the stick in my hands.
I’m on my last wooden stake, thank God. I’ve gotten several splinters already.
I run the knife down the stake again, then test the point. It’s sharp. Very sharp.
I brush wood shavings off my lap and get up to put the stake with the others.
Between Hasan, Jacques, and myself, we’ve made nearly a dozen stakes.
Since the wood I used was from fallen branches in the yard, some turned out better and stronger than others, which is why we thought it would be a good idea to make several.
“I’ll get holy water tomorrow,” I start, and sit back on the couch next to Jacques. His wings go in toward his body a bit when I draw near in a subconscious movement he’s been doing all night. I’ve tested it a few times to make sure. I get close, he tenses.
I hate that it bothers me. I don’t have time for this.
“And then what, just pour it over the stakes?” I look at the pile of wood on the coffee table.
Without answering me, Jacques gets up. I look over at Hasan, hoping he knows what’s up with his friend, but he’s too busy watching Dwight on the screen to notice.
I sweep shavings into a pile with my hand, making a mental note to bring my vacuum over from home tomorrow. The whole house needs to be cleaned.
A minute later, Jacques returns with a metal mixing bowl. He puts the stakes in it, sharp tips down, and sets it back on the coffee table.
“Fill this as close to halfway as you can. As long as the pointy ends are blessed, it should be enough. You’re not going to stab the entire stake through their hearts.”