15. A Cup of Tea
15
A Cup of Tea
Rory
I n the past three years, the only car Rory has ever heard approach the house is the mailman. But the mailbox is at the entrance to the driveway, and this car continues down the drive, acorns popping as the wheels turn, maneuvering around the large oak tree that’s been encroaching upon the dirt path for a few years now. The soft rumble of an engine continues to approach and when the brakes squeal, he gently ushers Calliope back into the kitchen.
As the door swings shut, the visitor knocks. Rory pauses for a handful of agonizingly long seconds, before taking a few loud steps, opening the front door and feigning breathlessness as much as he can. He is confronted with the view of a uniformed police officer, bearing the shield of Glenn County Police Department. He doesn’t bother to hide his alarm; it’s perfectly reasonable to be on edge if law enforcement shows up on your doorstep without previous warning, after all.
The officer smiles disinterestedly, flicking a badge in Rory’s direction as he says, “Good morning, I’m Officer Burton. Do you have a few minutes to answer some questions?”
Officer Burton is the same height as Rory, although his body is slimmer. He has a runner’s build, lean muscle acclimated to physical exertion. There’s a gun holstered at his side, and he rests his hand lightly against it, as if to subtly highlight its presence. His close-set eyes dart around the entrance to the house, landing on everything in sight except for Rory himself.
He desperately wants to close the door, cutting off Burton’s wandering gaze, and only the certainty that doing so would make Burton suspicious stops him. For the moment, Burton is dutifully aware of his surroundings, yet presumptuous in that notion that whatever he is looking for, he won’t find it here.
Instead, Rory tilts his head to the side, brow furrowed in general concern. “Is everything alright, officer?”
Burton’s eyes finally cut back to Rory, and he smiles, though the movement is so quick, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just doing some door-to-door inquiries regarding a missing woman.” He pulls a flyer from his back pocket and hands it to Rory. That skill that Calliope mentioned earlier—about switching emotions—comes in handy as he registers the smiling face surrounded by frizzy curls. It’s the same photo from the newspaper. Rory’s frown deepens.
“Now, you might have seen the headlines, but she’s not in trouble,” Burton continues. “We’re worried about her welfare and are asking locals to keep an eye out.” Burton smiles, head turned just enough so that he can continue his inspection of the house behind Rory. The movement is just as stiff, just as noncommittal as before, except Rory can hear the man’s heartbeat increase in speed as his eyes land on something just inside the door.
Shit , he thinks. Is there more to this? Did Calliope lie? Is she a wanted killer?
“I’ll definitely keep an eye out, officer,” he says, a small wave of relief when Burton’s eyes reconnect with his own as he hands the poster back. “Thank you for stopping by.”
Burton shifts his weight to the side in a casual stance, hand still resting lightly on his holstered gun. “You work at the gas station, right?” The smile widens and Rory can see a glint of something behind his eyes.
Again, that finely honed ability to shove emotions to the side to be examined and organized later—like pushing everything in a closet to clear a room—keeps his voice light. Respectful, even. “Yes, sir. The night shift.”
“Thought I recognized you.” He shifts his weight again, taking a step closer. “You know, the last known sighting of her was near the hotel down the way. Maybe she stopped into the store at some point?” He shoves the poster back toward Rory. “Maybe you want to take another look?”
Rory looks down at the photo again and shakes his head. “We get a lot of people coming through the Go-Go, but not a lot of people overnight, when I work. I think I would recognize her.”
Burton chuckles. “She is a looker, that’s for sure.” Burton’s eyes dart down to the threshold and Rory realizes what he had seen earlier. “You live here alone?”
Rory knows Officer Burton spotted Calliope’s boots by the door, one turned over on its side and showing off its feminine heel and pointed toe. Since he’s standing right next to them, it’s also painfully obvious that they are too small for him.
“I live here with my wife,” Rory says, the lie forming so quickly on his tongue that he barely realizes what he’s said until he hears his own voice adding, “It’s just us two.”
Burton’s eyebrows go up, emphasizing his sweaty forehead. He’s not as young as he looked at first, deep grooves of age showing along his sallow skin. “Is she in? Maybe I could ask her a few questions. Show her the picture.” He smiles again, wider than before. Rory supposes it might be charming to anyone but him.
“Of course,” he says calmly, his mind already running through various scenarios. It’s been at least fifty years since he’s had to use his compulsion for anything major, like erasing a memory. Slipping into a mind is one thing, but altering it takes more skill, more energy. A bigger meal.
Can he do that now? Grab Officer Burton and force him to forget coming here? Replace the memory of the house with something else?
Rory steps back and lets Burton pass him, pointing toward the kitchen door. “Just through here,” he says, fingers clenching as Burton walks down the hallway.
He reaches out, but too late—the kitchen door has already swung open, and Burton takes a step into the kitchen, introducing himself to Calliope.
Rory follows, and, for a moment, as the kitchen door swings behind him, tapping against his back, he wonders if he’s going a bit mad. Too much time alone. Because the woman standing in the kitchen, preparing a pot of tea, is not Calliope.
Or, Rory realizes, catching a whiff of her scent overlaid with the frozen herbal layer of magic, she doesn’t look like Calliope. If he twists his head to the side and lets his eyesight go fuzzy, he can see the faint shimmer of the illusion she’s somehow conjured. She is a witch , he thinks dumbly, taking in the differences between his Calliope and this one, who introduces herself to Burton as Violet.
Burton’s smile is much wider than he has thus far displayed, and Rory is sure it has something to do with Violet and her curvy hips and tiny waist. The window is still open and the gentle breeze rustles her sleek, chin-length bob. Her skin is tanned and smooth. She looks like she should be lounging on a beach in the Mediterranean and not in this dark, dusty kitchen. She offers Burton a cup of tea and Rory blinks at the delicate silver bangles adorning her wrists.
Burton declines the tea but does see fit to place a hand on Calliope’s arm as he does so. “I appreciate the offer, ma’am, but I don’t want to take up too much of your time.”
“Oh, of course. How can we help you?”
Rory watches as Burton hands Calliope the poster and a small line forms between her dark eyebrows while she considers the photo of herself. She looks up at Rory, who quickly acknowledges the look and closes his mouth before Burton glances over his shoulder.
“I haven’t seen her,” says Calliope. “Could she have stopped in at the station, dear?”
“No, darling . Like I told Officer Burton, she doesn’t look familiar.”
“Is she in trouble?” asks Calliope, handing the poster back to Burton.
He slips it back into his pocket. “Not all, Violet. We’re just worried about her welfare.”
“Who reported her missing? Her family must be so worried.” Calliope presses a hand to her chest, shaking her head. The emotion is overdone, but only Rory can tell. Burton seems to be eating it up.
“Indeed they are, ma’am.” The officer nods solemnly and the fact that he’s only answered one of Calliope’s questions does not go unnoticed. Rory narrows his eyes at Burton’s back. “We just want to see her reunited with her family. If you happen to see her, or remember seeing her, please don’t hesitate to give me a call.” He hands Calliope his business card. Rory clenches his fists as Burton once again squeezes her arm as she takes the proffered card.
“Of course, officer.” Calliope takes a step backward, holding the card in front of her like a weapon. Rory doesn’t miss the stiffness of the movement, but Burton does. “I do hope you find her.”
Another burst of air trickles in through the open window, and even as the moist, earthy smell of the lake fills the room, Rory catches a whiff of Burton’s scent, woodsy and spicy and very much human .
It’s a smell that Rory is accustomed to, of course, and he knows well how to temper the thirst that rises as Burton’s heartbeat seems to echo louder in his head. He’s had centuries of practice, after all.
Calliope, on the other hand, has been a vampire for all of two days and when the scent hits her, she tenses noticeably, her nostrils flaring. The illusion flickers and Violet falls away in front of Burton’s eyes.
Burton, for his part, seems unable to comprehend what has just happened. Even as he blinks rapidly, mouth open to comment on Calliope’s changed appearance, she bounds forward, her hands on his neck before Rory can intervene. He smells Burton’s blood as she bites into his skin.
Fuck , he thinks. And then for good measure, he says it out loud, the sound barely sliding through gritted teeth. Rory’s hand is on her shoulder in an instant, the manacles ensuring that his strength reigns supreme. He pushes her away roughly and grips Burton’s shoulders.
“Look at me,” he says to Officer Burton, grasping the man’s chin so that he can see into his eyes. He slips into Burton’s mind, overwhelmed, momentarily, by a lustful thought about Violet . His hand tightens around Burton’s face as he feels a pulse of anger, the red mist forever at the back of his mind whispering death in his ear. It takes some effort to lighten his grip. “Everything is okay. Just…wait.” Rory steps back, letting his hand fall away. Burton’s pupils dilate with Rory’s command.
Calliope’s lips are smeared in blood, like poorly applied lipstick. Her hand is at her throat, and he can see her fingers trembling.
There is a gentle caw from the windowsill. “It would be a good opportunity to test our theory. That she may not possess all of her vampiric traits,” Kane suggests. “Perhaps Calliope could try compelling the man’s memory away?”
Rory meets Calliope’s gaze and nods encouragingly. “You can do this. Physical connection helps. Make eye contact. Tell him that we couldn’t tell him anything. ”
Her returned grimace is shaky, uncertain. “And what about the…?” She swallows, unable to look at Burton’s neck and the two, barely there, puncture wounds.
“Don’t worry about those just yet.”
She takes a wobbly step forward, tilting her chin up so can see Officer Burton’s eyes. She places her index finger against his cheek. The man blinks at her but doesn’t react. “I’m so sorry that we couldn’t help you.”
Burton blinks again, but rapidly this time, and Rory can see the compulsion fading from his mind, his awareness flooding back in. Just as his mouth twists in alarm, Rory steps in, once again telling him to stay calm. “Everything is okay.” He nods encouragingly at Calliope. “Try it again.”
She reaches out a shaky hand, covering the side of his face. Her voice is stronger when she speaks. Forceful, with that head-strong bite to her words that almost makes him proud. “We don’t know anything . We haven’t seen the missing woman.”
Again, Burton’s eyes blink, his pupils shrinking down as he comes back to himself. Rory steps in, fingers digging into Burton’s chin as he roughly pulls his attention away from Calliope. “We haven’t seen the missing woman. You had a nice cup of tea, and now you’re going to leave.”
Burton’s mouth flounders for a beat, his voice coming out as a stuttering whine as Rory’s command works its way from his brain to throat. Then, he says, “ Thank you for your time.” He smiles at Calliope. “And the cup of tea. I best be on my way.”
“I’ll walk you out.” Rory keeps his hand on Burton’s shoulder, steering him out of the kitchen.