by Sara Snow
I was indulging in self-flattery, and I knew it. The girl had been awake for well over twenty-four hours—she could have fallen asleep at a bus stop. But it still made my heart rise like a helium balloon to see her sleeping so deeply in my car.
When we got back to the warehouse, Olympia met me at the door, her arms outstretched to greet Georgia.
“Hey, sweetie! It’s about time you came home!”
“Olympia!”
Georgia fell into the witch’s embrace. It always amazed me to see these girls hug and squeal every time they saw each other, as if they’d been separated for years instead of a couple of days.
“What’s this about? Where’s Jose? He called me and told me to bring Georgia here immediately.”
“Let’s go find out.”
Olympia and Georgia led the way down the hall. Georgia was wide awake again. While the two of them chit-chatted about stuff I knew nothing about, I looked around for Jose. As urgent as he’d sounded on the phone, I would have thought he’d be here waiting for me. But there was no sign of him.
“Olympia, what’s going on? Jose never calls me. Is he okay?”
“I’m fine!”
Jose ducked out of the training center, closing the door hurriedly behind him. I had expected to find him stricken with fear and alarm. Instead, his eyes sparkled and he was trying to bite back a cheeseburger grin.
“That’s good to know. Because the way you sounded, I thought we’d come home to find the place on fire.”
I was starting to get irritated. I’d been so close to kissing Georgia when Jose called. Now, we were back at the warehouse and the object of my desire was in Olympia’s arms, not mine.
“Nah. Kingston just bought a new piece of equipment that we wanted you to check out. Come take a look.”
So, Kingston was in on this, too. Now I had a major grudge against two of my closest friends.
Jose threw the door open. Olympia let go of Georgia, and we walked in.
“This better be good,” I snarled. “Where’s the fucking equipment?”
All I could see was a shimmering wall of balloons, hundreds of them in all the colors of the rainbow. Georgia shrieked in disbelief and turned to Jose.
“What? Who did this? It’s incredible!”
“That’s only the beginning, sweetheart. Keep going,” Olympia urged. She pushed Georgia through the mass of balloons.
For once, Georgia was speechless. Her eyes grew as wide as dinner plates. Her full lips dropped open. The color rushed out of her face, and for a second, I thought she might faint. I stood behind her, just in case I had to catch her before she hit the ground.
In the center of the training room stood a table heaped with gifts. The centerpiece of the display was a three-tiered cake alight with candles. Multi-colored streamers hung from the overhead beams and a carpet of bright confetti covered the floor. Plates of antipasto and bowls of fresh fruit sat on a second table next to steaming chafing dishes that held hot food.
Kingston and Eli stood beaming beside the gift table, and Olympia and Jose rushed to join them.
“Surprise!” they chorused in unison. “Happy birthday!”
Georgia’s hands flew to her open mouth. She made a tiny sound like a startled mouse.
“Is it your birthday?” I asked. I was almost as dumbstruck as Georgia.
She shook her head. “Uh, I don’t think so,” she squeaked.
“Georgia had her birthday when she was in the hospital,” Jose piped up, “when she was in that coma. She never got to celebrate, so we wanted to do something for her now.”
Excitement transformed Jose’s face. I felt like a shithead for being so gruff with him earlier. He was getting just as much joy from this surprise as Georgia.
“Somehow, it didn’t seem very festive to shout, ‘happy belated birthday,’” Kingston said. “Twenty-one is a big milestone. We wanted to do something to commemorate it, even if we’re a few weeks late.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Georgia said. Her purple eyes glittered, and I saw a tear roll down her cheek.
“I’m sure you’ll think of something eventually,” Kingston said, his eyes sparkling with humor.
Olympia dragged Georgia to the gift table.
“Open my present first,” she said. “I can’t wait for you to see what I made for you. Go ahead. It’s okay.”
Olympia chose the smallest of the wrapped packages and held it out to her friend. Georgia hesitated, then accepted the gift and removed the paper with trembling fingers.
We all fell silent as we watched her. It was almost painful to see the shocked delight on her face as she opened the box. Had this girl ever received a real present before? A gift selected only for her and offered out of genuine love?
Slowly, as if she couldn’t believe her eyes, Georgia pulled a silver chain from the box. At the end of the chain hung a pendant with a glittering purple stone. Violet light flashed from the gem.
“It’s a real amethyst,” Olympia explained. “I made the pendant myself, but the stone belonged to my great-grandmother. The women in my bloodline have owned that amethyst for generations, but I knew I had to give it to you. It matches your eyes to perfection.”
She helped Georgia unclasp the chain and hung the pendant around the cambion’s neck.
“This pendant isn’t just a pretty bauble,” Olympia explained. “It will protect your spirit from beings that want to steal you from us. You’ll never be alone while you’re wearing it—we will all be with you, watching over you.”
“Thank you,” Georgia whispered. She clutched the stone in her hand, her fingers clenched so tight that I thought she might cut her skin.
“Let’s have some music,” Eli said. “Jose, do you want to be our disc jockey?”
Jose nodded happily. A stereo had been set up in the corner of the room. Within seconds, the sounds of “Birthday” by the Beatles filled the room. Georgia’s tearful silence turned into giddy laughter as she danced around the room with Jose.
Carefree for once, Georgia glowed with the pleasure of the moment. Some children were raised to believe that this kind of celebration was their due. Georgia had grown up believing that she didn’t deserve the basic standards of childcare.
Feeling more than a little envious, I watched Jose and Georgia—two young people filled with life and energy.
“Why don’t you wipe that grouchy look off your face?” Olympia asked. “Have some food. Join the fun. You might even try dancing.”
“You could have told me you were planning a birthday party for Georgia. I could have been involved in the planning.”
“I threw it together at the last minute,” Olympia said. “Jose helped me set it up while you were on the mission with Georgia. He’s more—how should I say this—spontaneous than you.”
“You mean he’s younger.”
“No, I mean he loves surprises. You’ve told me more than once that you hate being surprised. You like to be the one in control. In other words, you’re not the first person I’d seek out to plan an event like this.”
“I understand.”
Olympia tried to hand me a plate of birthday cake, but I shook my head. “I’m not hungry.”
“This isn’t a bag of blood, Carter, it’s a slice of birthday cake. I’m inviting you to join Georgia’s celebration instead of hanging back in the shadows.”
I looked over Olympia’s shoulder, trying to catch Georgia’s eye. She was dancing with Kingston now. They waltzed together formally, like a father and daughter at a wedding. She radiated happiness as she gazed up into his face.
“Thank you. I’m going upstairs,” I said. Not wanting to appear like a complete asshole, I accepted the plate of cake. “I need to find something to give to Georgia since I didn’t have time to choose a gift beforehand.”
Olympia smirked and stepped aside to let me leave.
I went to the bedroom that was now Georgia’s. I felt like a spy inspecting the few possessions that she’d brought with her: t
he ubiquitous gray hoodie, a small bag of toiletries, a pocket calendar. I opened the calendar, a freebie from a local bank, and leafed through its pages. Part of me hoped to find a reference to one of our meetings, possibly with a star or a heart beside it to signify her unspoken feelings.
But Georgia’s calendar held nothing but the due dates of her online school assignments, reminders about bills, and her weekly work schedule at the call center. Nothing about me, or even about the Venandi.
I set the calendar back down on the night table, careful to place the little book exactly as Georgia had left it. There was nothing in the room that inspired me with gift ideas for Georgia, especially not on such short notice. Olympia was right. I wasn’t comfortable with surprises. I needed time and space to make my plans, even if it was something as simple as choosing a birthday present.
I crossed the hall to my own room. I would have to choose one of my own belongings based on what I knew about Georgia. Over the years, I had built up a collection of keepsakes, some of them purchased, some of them given to me willingly. Still others had been taken as trophies from demons I had destroyed.
I didn’t want to give Georgia anything that carried my karma. She deserved a pure treasure, untainted by greed or violence. Something that spoke to her heart.
Then, I remembered the treble clef tattoo on her wrist. Music was not only her passion, she had told me, but her salvation. Through years of neglect, abandonment, and outright abuse, Georgia had written songs to calm her soul.
As a teenager, Georgia had dreamed of the day when she could spend hours alone with her guitar, unconcerned with the opinions of foster parents or roommates. When she’d rented her first apartment, she was thrilled at the thought of being able to play and compose music for hours without interruption.
Like most adults, Georgia soon discovered that she rarely had time to do what she loved most. The need to pay bills and add to her meager income consumed all her waking hours. And when she did have an afternoon alone with her guitar, the songs she wrote disappointed her. In her hectic adult life, she had lost her creative passion.
In a rare, spontaneous flash of inspiration, I realized that I had the perfect gift for Georgia.
Olympia would have been proud.
The party carried on for the rest of the evening. Revived by the festivities and fueled by birthday cake, Georgia seemed to have forgotten that she hadn’t slept. When Kingston and Eli finally begged off for the night, Georgia’s eyes were still sparkling.
“Olympia gave me the most amazing dress! It’s white and slinky, like something Marilyn Monroe would have worn. Jose gave me a wooden recorder, and he’s going to teach me how to play it. Kingston gave me a leather-bound journal to write in, so I can remember everything I’m learning. And Eli gave me a suitcase so I can pack more stuff to bring over from my apartment.”
She babbled on about the gifts, the food, and the music as we left the room and went upstairs. It didn’t seem to bother her that she hadn’t received a gift from me. Some women would have been irked that I hadn’t paid tribute to their birthday. Georgia hadn’t noticed.
“Care to join me for a brandy?” I asked as we passed the game room. Eli and Jose had skipped their nightly pool match in favor of an early bedtime. Kingston was back in the library, buried in his books, and Olympia had skipped out for a night on the town with her latest paramour.
“Only if it’s at least two hundred years old,” Georgia said with a giggle.
“I have something even older. Kingston gave me a brandy that was bottled in the eighteenth century.”
Georgia slid onto a stool by the wet bar. “I’m willing to try it. As long as you promise to wipe the bottle first. I don’t want to choke on any eighteenth-century dust.”
“But of course, madame,” I said with a mock bow. “No ancient dust will touch those lovely lips of yours.”
The brandy flowed like liquid gold into two snifters. I held up my glass to the light, admiring the rich radiance of the liquor. Kingston always sought out the finest of everything, whether it was brandy, beef, or books. Generous spirit that he was, the fallen angel never kept any of those treasures to himself.
I raised my glass. “Here’s to your birthday, belated or not.”
“I’ll drink to that!”
We toasted Georgia’s birthday, then her victory over Mammon. We toasted Georgia’s car, my birthday, our friendship with Kingston, Olympia’s glorious hair, Eli’s washboard abs, and a dozen other silly things. Before I knew it, half the bottle had disappeared, and Georgia and I had dissolved into helpless laughter.
“I never thought I’d have a birthday party,” Georgia said, her mood shifting. With a wistful look in her eyes, she fondled the pendant that Olympia had given her. “Not like that one. I’ll remember tonight for the rest of my life.”
“You sound like you’ll never have another one. Trust me, there will be plenty of parties like that. You’re going to be spoiled rotten.”
“I’ve already been spoiled rotten. I can’t believe all those gifts! One present would have been fine, but a whole table full of them? I can’t get over it.” She shook her head in disbelief.
“The night isn’t over yet. There’s one more gift for you to open.”
“You’re kidding!”
“No. I’m not.”
I placed a small, flat box in front of her. I had wrapped the box in silver paper and topped it with a purple bow. She beamed at me as if the box itself was her gift.
“Open it, Georgia,” I urged. “It’s something that I know you truly need.”
She removed the ribbon and paper and placed them carefully aside, as if she intended to save them, too. Then, she opened the box. After a few moments, she removed the small sliver of plastic that I’d given her.
“Epiphone,” she said, reading the script as she cradled my gift in her palm. “An Epiphone guitar pick. You remembered that I had a guitar.”
“How could I forget? I figured that would be the next weapon you used against me, after the umbrella. But it’s not just any guitar pick, Georgia. That pick belonged to John Lennon.”
Georgia held the pick as gently as if it was a rare, fragile orchid. She was quiet for a long time.
“How did you know?” she finally said.
“I saw the poster of Lennon hanging in your apartment. An old black-and-white photo from the seventies. I knew he had to be important to you, because the poster hung above your guitar. It made me think of an altar. Today, I remembered that I had one of John Lennon’s picks in my collection.”
“I can’t accept this, Carter. It’s too valuable.”
“Of course you can. To be perfectly honest, I have no idea where the pick came from—its origins are lost in the haze of the seventies. But I knew it was the perfect gift for you.”
“You were right. John Lennon was my inspiration for learning how to play the guitar. I dreamed of writing songs like ‘Love,’ maybe getting a gig at a club somewhere and playing music that would move people in the same way. That never happened.”
“Georgia, you just turned twenty-one years old. Your life is only beginning. You have years and years to write songs.”
She shook her head. “I’ve lost the spark, or whatever it was that motivated me to write music. Even when I knew my songs were crap, I used to spend hours working on them. I would lose myself in the flow and forget about the pain. Now, I’m too tired to even pick up my guitar when I get home from work. And even if I did, I’d be too stressed about my homework to concentrate.”
“Maybe you should reconsider your priorities,” I suggested. “If you’re not able to do the things that make you feel alive, you might be on the wrong path.”
Georgia sighed and looked down at her lap. “I can’t afford to think that way, Carter. I can’t afford to dream.”
I reached out and held her chin, gently turning her face to meet mine. Her eyes were incandescent with tears. Their violet glow stopped my heart.
“Everyone can affo
rd to dream. Even vampires with half a human soul.”
Before I had time to overthink my next move, I leaned in and kissed her.
Georgia’s mouth was lush and soft, so soft that her lips seemed to melt under mine. Our kiss began with a slow, cautious exploration, then deepened into hungry longing. Her tongue, flickering against mine, tasted like brandied cherries. Her hands reached up to clasp the back of my head, drawing me closer.
A moan rose from her throat. My desire grew into a burning need. I hadn’t been this aroused in what seemed like forever—I wanted her, body and soul.
I wrapped my arms around Georgia’s waist and pulled her off the bar stool to hold her between my thighs. The warm weight of her breasts and hips sent a shudder of yearning through my flesh. She yanked my shirt up and ran her fingernails slowly up my back.
That combination of pain and pleasure was too much.
I pulled away from Georgia and held her at arm’s length. For all its intensity, that kiss couldn’t have prepared her for the kind of lust that seized me when my vampire side came out.
A look of confusion cast a shadow over her lovely face. Her pupils, dilated from the excitement of our kiss, were onyx disks.
“What happened?” she asked. Her lower lip trembled. “I did something wrong, didn’t I?”
“No. You did everything right. Too right.”
“Then why did you push me away?”
“Because we need to save something for later. When I have more self-control.”
Georgia nodded. Her long black hair curtained her face. “I think I get it,” she said in a small voice. “It’s me.”
The abandoned little girl had taken over. That was exactly why I had stopped. I didn’t want to take her like a wolf devouring a helpless child. When we finally came together, I wanted us to be equals.
“No, it’s me. I’ve had way too much to drink, on top of needing sleep. And you need more sleep than me, Georgia. Can I walk you to your room?”
Georgia let me escort her down the hallway. We stopped in front of her closed bedroom door. I kissed her lightly on the top of her head. The ghost of my desire lingered, but I held it off with that virginal kiss.