Chapter 24
I walk into Pete’s and spy Nick behind the bar, and my heart freaking stops. In the two days since we’ve seen each other, I’ve let a whole lot of suspicions and misgivings get into my head. But in the process, I forgot something. I forgot this . The dizzy-in-my-head, lump-in-my-throat, ache-in-my-chest, fluttering-in-my-gut kind of feeling at just the sight of him.
They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, but now I’m thinking it might also make the brain grow a little more impressionable. A tad more persuadable. I’m not going to say dumber, but at the moment, I’m not ruling it out either.
Oh, I’m not dismissing my questions. I still have them, and the two of us definitely need to talk. I’ve got to ask Nick what he knows about vampire mind tricks and whether a vampire-slayer love connection really negates a slayer’s power. But we can discuss all that calmly. And Liv’s right. Of course she’s right. I should absolutely give Nick the benefit of the doubt.
Just then, he looks over at me, his gaze meets mine, and he…barely nods at me.
What?
And he just goes back to wiping down the bar counter.
What?!
Okay, what in the actual hell is going on here?
Admittedly, I would have put the big fat kibosh on any over-the-top PDA hanky-panky nonsense in our workplace. But since when does Nick give a crap about that? And since when is he so conscientious about cleaning the damn countertop?
I stomp through the bar, past the sparse Tuesday evening crowd, out to the back room to clock in. As I stash my belongings, I try to settle down and think about things from Nick’s point of view. I mean, after the lukewarm texts that followed our steamy night of passion together, maybe he’s just playing it cool?
Except the more I think about it, the more my anger rises. Not slayer anger. My anger. Because come on . Is this seriously the way you treat your new girlfriend the first time you see her after you’ve had slightly kinky, potentially lethal, knock-your-socks-off sex?
Nope. It definitely is not .
Which kind of begs a question.
Is what’s been happening between Nick and me really real? I wonder. Or just some kind of a vampire power play to take away my power?
***
By the time I get settled in my usual spot behind the bar, I want to scream at Nick. I want to smack that neutral and detached expression right off his stupid face. It’s all I can do not to make a big scene in front of the customers.
Not that the customers would even notice. At this point, we have exactly three, and they’re all otherwise occupied. My regular Tuesday-night drunk is only interested in his Johnnie Walker Black, and the man and woman seated at a table are only interested in each other. I watch them stare lovingly into each other’s eyes, not at all concerned that their seemingly heartfelt feelings might be nothing more than the product of vampire shenanigans.
Irrationally, my anger intensifies.
I try to get a grip.
It’s weird. Over the past week, I’ve gotten used to fighting against this kind of aggression from my slayer. But now my alter ego is totally quiet. There’s not so much as a peep from her. All this emotion, all this rage, isn’t coming from my supernatural side. It’s coming from me .
Which makes it doubly weird. These kinds of negative feelings don’t usually bubble straight up to the surface like this. Normally they’re perfectly happy to stay buried, waiting for me to channel them into my acting.
“So how was your audition?” asks Nick. His tone, I note, is a little guarded. He’s moved toward the cash register in the middle of the bar, but he’s still staying squarely on his side of things.
Really? We’re making small talk now?
My anger ratchets up another notch.
“Good,” I say, determined to keep my head. I step toward the register too, but I stick to my side. “How was band practice?”
“Good,” he says. “We worked on a new cover song to open the show.”
“Good,” I say. “So you’re ready for tomorrow night?”
“I think so,” he says. “What about you? Are you ready for tomorrow night?”
I look at him sharply. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He looks back at me a little funny. “You know what it means.”
Okay. That’s it. I’m done with the small talk.
“No,” I say. “Actually I don’t know what it means. Because I don’t have the magical ability to get inside another person’s head.” I narrow my eyes and fix him with a hard stare. “Do you?”
Not the calm discussion I was hoping for, but there it is.
Suddenly, Nick’s posture shifts. He lifts his arm, drags his hand through his shaggy black hair, and peers at me kind of sheepishly. And just like that, I know . I know it’s true.
“Carrie,” Nick begins.
“Oh my God,” I interject, wide-eyed. “You do. You do have the magical ability to get inside another person’s head.”
I feel sick. Absolutely sick. All this time, while Nick was claiming to help me control my slayer, was he really controlling me?
He glances around a little nervously at the patrons. Then he steps closer and lowers his voice. “It’s called influence.”
“ Influence? ”
He nods. “It’s a kind of, I don’t know…vampire hypnosis, I guess.”
“ Vampire hypnosis? ” I say, floored. “And you didn’t think to mention this to me before?”
“I didn’t mention it before because it’s not relevant,” he says.
“ Not relevant? ” I demand. I’m using all my willpower to keep my voice at an indoor level. “How can you think it’s not relevant?”
“Because I’ve never used it,” says Nick. “I would never use it. And I’d certainly never use it on you.”
I frown, thinking about this. It’s true, Nick has never exactly struck me as the control freak type. Actually, of the two of us, I guess I’m the one who best fits that bill.
Only things are different now. He’s a vampire, and I’m his slayer.
“But how can I be sure?” I ask. “How do I know you’re not using this influence on me right now?”
“Because you know me,” Nick says. “You know I would never want to take away your free will. The other night, didn’t I tell you that you were the one in charge?”
The other night?
Nick levels a dark, meaningful gaze at me, and my head floods with memories of our intimate time together. I see myself restrained but not powerless.
Because Nick gave all the power to me.
Crap.
My anger doesn’t disappear, but it definitely comes down a few degrees. My brain feels a little scrambled, only I don’t think it’s because of any metaphysical mind manipulation.
“Okay,” I say. “Maybe you’re not playing supernatural head games with me. Still, you should have told me.”
“Noted.”
“Is there anything else?” I ask.
“What?”
“Is there anything else you know about vampires and slayers that you haven’t told me?”
“I don’t know,” he says with a shrug and a shake of his head.
I stare at him, unconvinced.
“Okay, well,” he stammers, “I’m…uh…strong.”
At that, my eyes involuntarily drift down to his broad chest, to the long, muscular arms extending out of the short sleeves of his black band tee. It’s Led Zeppelin tonight, although I’m not really thinking about the T-shirt. Now that Nick’s brought up the topic of the other night, I can’t help recalling the way he looked without his shirt, the way he gazed down at me, the way—
Nope. Can’t go there. I need to get answers.
“Strong?” I ask, dragging my eyes back up to meet his. “What do you mean, strong?”
“Like, really strong,” he says. “Superstrong? It’s kind of like the speed.”
I really shouldn’t have all these images flashing through my brain, all these snapshots of him using this superstrength of his. Naked.
I remind myself that I’m still angry. And goddammit, I have every right to be. After all, Nick has been keeping something from me. Maybe he didn’t use vampire influence on me, but he didn’t tell me about it either .
And if he’s been keeping that from me? Maybe he’s been keeping other stuff from me too.
If a slayer falls in love with a vampire, the slayer loses their power.
Does he know this? And worse, has he been using it as a secret plot against me?
Is our budding romance not really a romance at all? Instead of wooing me, has he been trying to eliminate my slayer? Has he just been toying with my emotions as a way to keep himself and his vampire bandmates safe?
I need to know.
So I have to be superstrong too.
With my anger back on the boil, I take a deep breath. But before I can ask the question, an all-too-familiar slurring male voice calls out, “Hey, sweetheart! I’m ready for another round down here.”
And boy, did that asshole just pick the wrooong time to disrespect me.
“I’m not your freaking sweetheart,” I say as I march down the bar and unleash on my regular. “I’m your bartender,” I tell him. “Or I was. I’ve had enough, and so have you. You’re officially cut off.” Then, to his astonishment, I snatch his glass away and go to the register to close out his tab.
While I’m ringing the guy up, I see Nick out of the corner of my eye. He’s retreated all the way down to the other end of the bar, and he’s watching me curiously.
I blow out a frustrated breath. Goddammit, I still don’t know for sure if I’m his sweetheart.
***
For the next hour or so, there’s a slow but steady trickle of customers, and the place becomes just busy enough to prevent Nick and me from continuing our conversation. But finally we’re left with only a handful of patrons, and no one seems to need anything. I make my way toward the center of the bar, and after a brief hesitation, Nick joins me.
“So what else?” I ask across the register. “What else haven’t you told me?”
Nick narrows his dark eyes at me. “Where’s all this coming from?” he asks. “Is there something that you aren’t telling me ?” Now that he’s had a little time to think about my earlier interrogation, he sounds almost wounded.
Crap.
While I try to figure out what to say next, the door to Pete’s opens, and a couple of new customers stroll in.
Double crap.
A middle-aged man and woman, dressed casually but tastefully and very expensively, approach my side of the bar.
I blink a couple of times. I must be imagining things, because the two of them look exactly like—
“Surprise!” they say in unison.
My parents.
Crap to the power of infinity.
“M-Mom?” I stammer. “Dad? What are you doing here?”
“There’s a bar association conference in Los Angeles this week,” explains my mother. “We weren’t going to attend, but at the last minute, we thought, well, why not? Then we can see Carrie.”
“Oh. Well…uh…” I’m totally at a loss here. “Can I get you a drink?”
“No time,” says my father. “We have a dinner reservation up the street in fifteen minutes.”
“Right. You should go. You don’t want to be late.” I start to relax a little. At least I’ll have some time to compose myself and prepare while they’re eating. “See you later?”
“We have a reservation for three,” says my mother.
“Teri’s with you?” I ask. I look around. “Where is she?”
“Of course Teri’s not with us,” says my mother. “She’s at Harvard. Working on the law review. It’ll just be the three of us.”
It takes me a moment to grasp her meaning. “I–I can’t have dinner with you right now,” I say. “I’m working.”
“Looks like you’re just standing around,” says my father.
“Well…”
“Surely,” says Mom with a glance over at Nick, “your friend here can cover for the rest of the night.”
And something about the way she says “friend” makes my spine go rigid. There’s a scorn in her tone that reminds me of Jenn when she talks about vampires.
“I mean,” she adds, looking around at the sparsely filled room, “it doesn’t look as if it would be all that much work.” And with that one offhand remark, my mother has somehow managed to belittle Nick, my place of employment, and me all at the same time.
“I’d be happy to cover,” says Nick, stepping in.
“There!” says my mother. “See?”
I turn to Nick. “Uh…”
“Carrie,” says my father, looking down at his designer watch. “We need to go.” As if he and my mother haven’t just sprung this on me. As if we’ve had plans all along and we’re going to be late and it’s all my freaking fault.
Uggghhh!
“It’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow night,” says Nick. As if there aren’t still all these unanswered questions between us. As if tomorrow night is just another Wednesday night and not the Wednesday night of his concert—the Wednesday night where I either control my slayer in front of his vampire buddies or potentially die trying.
“Carrie,” repeats my father.
Once again, the anger I feel is all mine.
Reining it in as best I can, I go in the back to retrieve my stuff and clock out.