Nico knows I wanted peace between the families, so he is banking on the belief that I won’t hurt him, even when he is determined to destroy the one thing I came back to Mayfield to do.
I didn’t think restoring peace to my hometown would be as easy as opening up a salon that caters to both humans and vampires in Midtown, but it’s a start.
And Nino-bear is currently destroying my progress.
“I did love her,” I say again, knowing I should just shut up. Memories of Mama Valentino braiding my brown hair in fancy styles when I was a little girl flood my brain.
Red lipstick. Always red. Black hair smooth as silk. No matter how often I try to scrub my mind of Mama V’s sweetness, I can still see it, even as her son trashes my business.
“It was your blood that killed her.” The finger Nico jabs in my direction feels like a knife to my chest. I recognize it because I stab myself with it often enough. “If not for you, she would still be alive. Dad hated you until his dying day for getting his wife murdered.”
Bile rises in my throat. Any chance at remaining in control of my faculties is compromised as self-loathing washes over me, dousing me from head to toe. “No,” I whisper, though I know Nico isn’t lying. He is many things—mainly insane—but he’s not a liar. Liars are a Valentino’s worst enemy.
Which explains why they have been at odds with my father and oldest brother for so long.
I try to reason with Nico, clearly having lost my hold on rationality. “I was tied up when those criminals took my blood. I tried to escape, but I couldn’t!”
Nico drops the stool so he can grip the two inches of black hair on top of his head, pulling on the strands as if I have driven him to this madness on purpose. “I don’t want to hear how you’re the victim in my mother’s murder!”
His words smack me across the face, building the pressure behind my eyes. “I loved your mother! She was the only mom I ever had!”
Another hole in the wall, though Nico still is not satisfied. “Yeah? Well, if your mother was still alive, I would have tracked her down and put a bullet through her head, so you would know how this feels. And now you’re opening up a business in Midtown? Now I have to see your face in this part of town? Do you know how few places vampires have that are relatively safe?”
Moisture pricks my eyes, but emotion will do me no good here. The only thing that could stop this are the guns that are calling out to me from their hidden places.
No. I will not become who they tell me I am. I won’t be the mass-murderer fate designed me to be.
But I also won’t be the one taking the blame for every bit of violence that painted our city red for all those years.
I didn’t know. I was a kid when our family doctor took my blood every week. She’d told me I was sick, and she needed to check my blood often to be sure I was healthy. She was my mother’s physician too, before my mother died.
I didn’t know the doctor was absconding with the high concentration of venom meant to kill vampires that produces naturally in women in my family’s blood. It remains dormant in the men but runs rampant in the females of the Kennedy family tree.
I didn’t know about any of it. I was all about making my red popsicle dye my lips so I could pretend I was wearing lipstick, like Mama Valentino.
Angst riddles my voice when I dare speak up for myself. “My father took my brothers and me to your house every week, Nico. Do you think any of us knew what my doctor was up to? I wasn’t eating popsicles in the backyard with you while secretly plotting a murder spree when I was five years old.”
“I don’t want to hear it!” Nico discards the chair and starts in on the welcome desk. There’s no cash in the register yet, but the cost of the damage is adding up by the second. Judging by the way he’s battering the thing with the stool, it won’t be fit to hold a single coin.
I have invested more than one hundred thousand dollars of my own to open this place. And now even more will be required to repair the damage from Nico’s temper. My rent here is so high because the landowner predicted things like this would happen.
I don’t speak again.
This is fair. My blood took away Nico’s mother. The woman I loved as my own mother is dead because of my blood. I should be witness to my dream of opening this salon being destroyed by my childhood bestie.
Nico peed his pants once when Daddy Valentino came home with blood all over his shirt and hands. I sneaked into his bedroom and got him clean clothes, never once making a joke of it because the two of us were in the same boat—the youngest kids in two families with too many dangerous secrets.
I am never allowed to speak in my defense.
But I don’t have to bear the shame of my entire race, I remind myself. All I can do is all I can do, and I am doing my best to broker peace when war is always at the ready.
3
Peace is Possible
Colette
I do nothing while Nico trashes my salon, not because I can’t, but because I very much can. I could shoot him with my non-lethal bullets. Sure, vampires heal faster than us humans, but a girl with a gun isn’t who I want to be. I will not be my father’s daughter. Not to Nico, at least.
I’m his pretend sister.
Or I used to be, anyway.
My heart aches but never breaks, even as I watch Nico smash my dreams with all the rage in his soul. I won’t rob him of it. If it was anyone else, I would have pulled one of my guns and shot him already. But he’s my Nino-bear.
And I was his Coco-bear.
I’m not sure if Nico decides he has run out of drywall or run out of rage, but finally he stops destroying my business. His chest heaves, and for a second, I swear I see moisture sparkling in his eyes.
He hates me just as much as I hate myself for everything that has happened. Neither of us had a lick of control over any of it. We were both left with only me to blame.
Nico is breathing in short pants, like his own fury has been too exhausting to carry around this long.
I know the feeling. The difference between us isn’t the rage; it’s what we do with it. Nico is bent on destroying my family. While I can’t blame him, my mission is to broker peace, even if I have to walk through a war to get there.
My back is plastered against the far wall, my feet still bare as glass glistens around me like the remnants of a party I should never have come to. Agony splashes over my features, marring the stoic demeanor I was trying to wear like armor he cannot dent.
Nico is breathless as he meets my eyes. For a second, true fear reveals itself only to me. Regret mingles with horror in his features, stilling his attack, if only for the moment. “This wasn’t… I didn’t mean…”
He’s mid-apology; I can feel it. He is on the cusp of understanding that we can do better than this. We can set the example for how two separate races should behave, like we used to do.
But his hatred of my family takes over, stealing his humility and replacing it with hubris.
Nico kicks a chunk of the debris in my direction. “You’re playing with fire, opening up a business here. Watch your back, Colette.”
I swallow hard, clawing for the high road, even though it is less appealing than punching him in the face. “I’ll see you around, Nino-bear.”
His steps falter at the childhood nickname, invoked like a plea to the saints. His eyes close as he braces himself on the doorjamb. “You don’t fight fair, Colette.”
Colette, not Coco-bear.
My lower lip quivers. “That’s the thing about not fighting at all.”
I will not cry. I will not show weakness. I will not show anything short of what I am. He has not earned the right to see me raw. “I’ve never wanted to fight you. I’m only in this for the popsicles and mud pies.”
It’s not a smile Nico casts in my direction over his shoulder; it’s a nerve I’ve touched on that hasn’t been exposed probably since I was around him last, which was when I was about fifteen years old. Now I’m playing the nerve like a harp string, m
aking it sing for me to drown out the sound of separation that has fallen between us, whispering lies I never wanted to believe were true.
Nico doesn’t say anything more. When he releases the doorframe, it is done with purpose, like he is trying to throw me and all I stand for behind him so he can keep his precious anger close.
I understand. Anger is sometimes more of a comfort than a hug, depending on what you’re looking to get out of life. Whatever he needs me to be, I will be that thing for him. I love his family that much.
I wish he could see that I am doing this for him. For Daddy Valentino. For Mama V.
Even for Rome, the older of the two Valentino brothers, who I am sure wishes me dead just as much as my precious Nino-bear does now.
I don’t care that they hate me. I don’t care.
I can’t care.
I have a mission to make their lives better, if it’s the last thing I do.
When I am certain Nico is gone, my spine slides against the wall. I gather my knees to my chest as my lower lip begins to quiver. Wreckage confronts me at every angle, my dreams crushed and crashed all around.
I didn’t compromise my position of peace. Though I am proud of myself for that, devastation presses behind my eyes until tears form and fall. The drops of terror bury themselves in the silk of my blouse and the palm of my hand. My bare toes curl to get away from the world. I feel small and uncertain, stupid for all the choices that led me to make the decision to move home and set up shop in a city I unwittingly helped destroy a decade ago.
But that’s not me. I swipe at the moisture under my eyes and will my spirit to settle. My dreams are not small, and I won’t shrink them to fit the comfort levels of people who have resigned themselves to living in fear.
I cannot tell if my arms are quaking because my business was just massacred, or if it’s my condition acting up, pinching my muscles to the point of pain. Either way, I know I need to take a pill soon to quell the shaking.
My trembling palm slides across the swell of my breast, feeling for the note I keep on my person, tucked in my bra, at all times.
Peace is possible, the paper says. I wrote it when I decided to move back to Mayfield. In case I forget why I am doing this, I wrote it down to remind myself of my mission.
That day, I hired a manager to take over my two salons overseas. I know I belong in Mayfield, where I am not welcome by some, and welcomed for the wrong reason by most.
One thing is certain; I am a polarizing presence. When they see me working in Midtown in full view of both vampires and humans, Mayfield and the world will have to make a choice: they will either bury old hatchets, or they will kill each other to prove their side is the one who has suffered more.
Clearly Nico has already made his choice.
It is an effort to stand, and when I do, my legs are unsteady.
I definitely need another pill. When I locate my purse in my office, I slide out my phone and dial my favorite brother’s number. “Declan?” I don’t mean for my voice to break, but I don’t hide things from him.
“What’s wrong, Coco?”
So many things, but I don’t want to look too closely at the details. “Remind me why I decided to do this?” I unscrew my pill bottle and pop one into my mouth, grateful the shakes will be gone soon, even if the fear never leaves me.
Declan’s voice is calm when I am steeped in an unhealthy dose of chaos that threatens to tear me apart. “Because you believe we can be better. You might be the only one who does.”
I nod, my eyes closing. I need to keep that belief strong in my heart when the cold nature of reality tries to convince me otherwise. “Thanks.” I end the call and press my palms to the flat of my desk, willing my medicine to kick in so my hands stop their tremors.
I will not let them break me. Not Nico, and not Mayfield. I will rebuild, tapping into my stubborn streak, which has always served me well.
I will not stop until every business in Midtown changes their signs from Humans Only to Vampires and Humans Welcome.
I will not rest until there is peace in Mayfield, no matter who tries to scare me away from my hometown.
4
Separated by Glass
Colette
I thought I understood what opening a salon stateside would entail, but I am fairly certain I haven’t had a sip of water or two minutes to think about a single task all day. It’s a good problem to have, really. There hasn’t been an open chair yet, and we are five minutes from closing. All my stylists are booked for the next two months, easily. They are exhausted, I notice as I look around the salon, but their winded expressions are tinted with sheer glee.
You can’t even see the holes Nico smashed in the wall last week.
The broom or the phone (sometimes both) have been glued to my palms for the better part of the entire day, and it shows. Though I feel like I have just barely contained a natural disaster, the place is spotless. My new customers are thrilled with their gorgeous hairstyles, and I am overjoyed no one has opened a firearm inside my business.
“I’ll be able to pay my rent with four day’s wages, if this keeps up,” Victor tells me, straightening the brunette bun atop his head. “I can’t believe how well this went. I’ve worked at other salons when they were opening, and no one did near as much business as this. Well done, honey.”
My grin practically splits my face. “Well done to all of you. They wouldn’t have booked repeat appointments if they weren’t happy with the job you all did today, and every single customer made a plan on paper to come back.”
Rachel snickers at Victor’s elation. “This salon was either going to be a huge hit or a total failure. How many reporters were in and out today?”
I shrug. “I lost count. Eight? Nine?”
The problem is that not a single vampire came into the business.
But I knew that would happen. Just because I welcome them in doesn’t mean they are comfortable frequenting a human-owned business. Trust takes time.
Rachel grins at me, tossing her inky hair over her shoulder. “Looks like you were worth betting on, Deadblood.”
I hate that name, but I don’t let my preference show, since Rachel doesn’t mean anything by it.
Victor nods while he wipes down his chair. “I know, right? When I signed on for this job, it was to make a statement, not necessarily money. I mean, vampires deserve stylists too, right? But honestly, I thought it would be a ghost town. No one wants to come to a business in Midtown if they might risk running into a vampire. And vampires aren’t exactly going to flock in here. They don’t trust humans.”
Rachel cleans off her scissors. “Apparently all that’s needed to turn Midtown profitable is to have a celebrity at the helm. Of course we’re safe from vampire attacks if the Last Deadblood is on the property.”
I grimace at their crass assessment. “That’s not the message I was hoping to send. The humans are safe because vampires don’t attack us for no good reason. If we act as if Mayfield is a peaceful place, then that’s what it will be.” I nod once, then reach for my statistics, which are always a cozy place for me to rest my brain. “Drug use is no different in the vampire territory than it is in the East End. The crime rate is the same, too.”
Rachel boops my nose. “Facts don’t matter when people are too afraid to listen to them.”
No one cares about the truth. All they care about is that someone who is different than them seems scary.
My stylists don’t have to understand my mission; they have good enough reasons for being here. One way or another, they all want the turf wars in Mayfield to end.
The sight of my employees warms my heart. We are all exhausted but in good spirits. Two of the women are hugging each other, and Victor starts helping clean Rachel’s station once his is finished.
This is what I want—team spirit that transcends a paycheck.
Plus ample paychecks for them all, which it looks like they will be earning.
I couldn’t be more elated if I tried.
Rachel kisses my cheek before she leaves for the night, but on her way out, she freezes. “I… Um… Colette, maybe you should go out the back. Victor, could you walk Colette to her car?”
The fear in her voice doesn’t suit the triumph of the moment. When I turn to examine the source of her worry, everything in me tenses. Despite the spike of fear in my system, I keep my voice light. “It’s all fine. Rome is an old family friend.”
I don’t have to say this; everyone in the city knows the story of the two powerful families who split amid violence and deep-rooted hatred that sprang from decades of love. The head of the Valentino family stopping by a Kennedy-run business used to be a cheery, regular occurrence when I was little.
By the time I was a teenager, it became cause for gunfire and fleeing in fear.
Supposedly our families are at peace. At least, that’s what my father promised me when I told him I was moving back to Mayfield. Though, it seems Nico doesn’t hold tight to that truce, but sees it as more of a suggestion he can trample over whenever his temper flares.
I have no idea if that promised peace will hold water tonight.
I swallow hard, summoning composure. My father and Rome agreed to lay down their weapons so they could try to rebuild Mayfield together earlier this year.
I cling to that truth, hoping it doesn’t fail me.
Why on earth is Rome Valentino here?
Victor stiffens, his nostrils flaring. “I’m calling Fintan. Your brother wanted me to reach out if anything like this happened.”
My teeth grind at the notion that I need my bully of a big brother for backup. Of my two big brothers, Declan is wonderful, while Fintan is a jerk. “No need.”
“But Fintan told me if any vampires stop by… And Rome Valentino is the worst of them all.”
I hate when people use Rome’s full name, like he’s so scary and ominous. They don’t know how badly he stinks at Uno.
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