Chapter 4
Needing something to cool my nerves after visiting my sire, I stopped off at the Enchanted Teapot for a cappuccino. I sat at the table and breathed deeply, enjoying the steam as it curled up, even while I stewed over the information, or lack thereof, that I’d received from my sire.
If Dante Artois wasn’t involved, the next logical place to check would be the local vampires.
Mason, their leader, hadn’t appeared thrilled when he’d found out that Lydia and I had gotten married.
Not to mention the death stare from my ex, Sephira, at the Winter Festival.
She was crazy enough for almost anything, and it was clear she wasn’t happy about my marriage.
Maybe they were setting me up as punishment for not following the vampire ways.
All the more reason Lydia and I should get an annulment. Everything might all go away if we ended things.
At the Enchanted Teapot, the coffee pots broke out in song at their whim.
They sang four-part harmonies in the style of a barbershop quartet.
With Valentine’s Day just around the corner, they had shifted to songs with a more romantic bent.
At the moment, they were performing Echoes of a Maybe.
Austen Heights was always a little strange like that.
Though the holiday was still a month away, shop windows were already dressed in pink and red, and tiny sprites flitted about, delivering early Valentine’s cards.
I tried not to let their sentimental mood make me think too much of Lydia. I gazed out the window at the bright winter day, trying not to see Lydia’s smile in the way the sun glistened off the fresh powder, or the way her fire made me feel as warm as the drink in my hands.
A sigh escaped me. This was the compulsion from my sire. It had to be. I needed to see her; there was no use putting it off.
I froze. Lydia rounded the corner outside the shop, about to walk past the Enchanted Teapot. I moved, hunkering down in the window display behind the sled and birch tree decorated with miniature paper hearts.
“Psst… what are you up to?”
I nearly jumped. Only another vampire could sneak up on me like that. I glanced over. Bradley crouched beside me. “A little warning next time would be appreciated.”
He grinned. “Sorry, man. So what are we hiding from?”
While I’d mentioned nothing about the police or dead body on my doorstep, I’d spent the evening before filling him in on the murder of our band manager and our female lead singer, who offed him for stealing her lyrics.
But we still hadn’t broached the subject of why I came back married.
I wasn’t sure I was ready to talk about that, even with him.
I pointed out the window. “Lydia.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You’re hiding from Lydia, your wife?”
“Ha ha. Yes.”
“Okay… do I want to know why?”
“My sire compelled me to keep an eye on her.”
Bradley’s eyes widened. “Okay, now I’m really lost.”
Lydia walked past, and I sank lower, pulling Bradley out of the way with me. She stared at her phone as she hurried by without looking up.
After she was gone, I released a relieved sigh, giving up my hold on Bradley. Maybe I didn’t have to confront Lydia. I’d fulfill my sire’s compulsion by watching her from a small distance.
I rose from my spot, slapping Bradley on the back. “I’ll explain later.”
“You better.” He cocked his head. “Even for being… one of us… you are a rather odd one.”
I smiled, moving toward the door. “You wouldn’t want me any other way.”
He chuckled. “That’s true.” He lifted a hand and said a tad too loudly, “Have fun spying on your wife.” He cast me a mischievous grin.
I rolled my eyes as I headed out the door of the Enchanted Teapot.
The cold winter air hit me, chilling any exposed skin instantly. People strolled up and down the street bundled in heavy coats, dodging icy patches on the sidewalk. Icicles hung off the roofs of the shops, sometimes clanking together musically in the breeze.
It was rather easy to follow her. Lydia constantly became immersed in her pursuits and rarely took breaks to observe her surroundings. It was that single-minded determination, her unbending obstinacy that had gotten me out of my last predicament.
She’d do that again if I let her. Over and over.
But even though she was a witch, she was still half-human, which made her vulnerable. Eventually, she’d bite off more than even she could chew. I’d never forgive myself if I were the cause of it.
She sat alone at a table outside the Toasted Spoon, a small sandwich shop near the local church, still staring at her screen.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. Seizing it, I moved the ringer to silent.
I felt quite certain I wasn’t near enough for her to perceive it, but I didn’t want to take any chances.
I didn’t answer, not wanting to risk her overhearing me nearby and realizing I was watching her.
But I listened to the not so quiet message she left.
“George Wickham, if you think that hitting me with annulment papers will be enough to frighten me off for good, you need to think again. First of all, I’m not signing anything until we talk face-to-face.
Second, I don’t care if you don’t want to be married to me.
I don’t care if you hate my guts. I won’t let you face this on your own. Call me back.”
No crying, no whining. Only fire and determination. That was Lydia. I couldn’t help but admire her.
She rose and proceeded down the street and entered Elixir and Ivy, the local apothecary shop.
Frost curled around the windowpanes, and little black hearts braided from ebony thistle stems hung on display.
I waited several minutes before entering after her.
The warmth of the shop blasted into me, the air thick with the scent of dried herbs, beeswax, and simmering spice.
Shelves lined every wall, brimming with jars labeled in looping script, and I ducked down a side aisle as Lydia moved to the rear of the store, her nose pink from the cold.
She loosened her scarf and tugged off her gloves before shoving them into her pocket.
The store owner, who took Lydia to the object she sought, said something, and Lydia burst out in a loud laugh that had me smiling.
Bundles of herbs hung upside down from the ceiling beams, their silhouettes swaying gently with the warmth that rose from the iron stove in the corner.
Lydia disappeared into an aisle, and the owner returned to the front counter.
Staying out of both of their lines of sight, I eased out from my hiding spot and trailed Lydia a few aisles back, sliding in and out of each row as silent as a ghost. Being a vampire had some perks.
I waited and waited. What was taking her so long? The sound of creaking shelves brought me to the row on the other side of her to see what she was doing.
Through the shelves, I saw Lydia straining to reach a jar of glowing orange dust on the top shelf. She’d climbed up several of the shelves and was straining to grab it. The shelves began to tip, and she let out a startled gasp.
She tumbled backward, throwing her arms up to protect herself against the tipping case.
I reached out and caught the shelves, yanking them into place. I knocked the jar of dust forward, and it fell into Lydia’s lap.
Her eyes grew round and she stretched, trying to look through to the other side. “Hello? Is someone there?” In the blink of an eye, I was at the front of the store. The owner, a woman in her late twenties, made her way toward Lydia.
“Are you okay?”
“Y-yeah. Did you see… is someone else here?”
“Not that I know of.”
I wasn’t invisible, but I could move so quickly that, to the untrained eye, I was easy to miss. Despite my speed, I would have been caught in an instant by another vampire.
Lydia’s footsteps sounded, and I rushed out the door and around the corner.
A second later, the door opened, and Lydia’s heels clicked on the pavement.
I tensed, but the noise from her footsteps paused for a long moment.
Then she sighed. The door to the shop opened again, and her footsteps disappeared inside.
I released my breath, it coming out in a puff of frost.
After another few minutes, the door opened again, and I heard her feet again walk off in the opposite direction at a fast clip.
When I stepped out, I watched her round the corner and disappear from sight.
This could work. I’d satisfy my sire’s compulsion to keep an eye on Lydia during the day.
She’d told me that Cupid’s Confections was guarded by a protection spell at night.
So when she was safely asleep, I’d fulfill my sire’s other compulsion to hunt down this murderer.
I could pretend that I was only doing the second because my sire forced me, but even I knew that wasn’t the case.
There were two reasons I needed to discover why someone would set me up. And one of those reasons had nothing to do with me and everything to do with the fireball strolling down the street.