Olivia

by Genevieve McCluer

  “A combination of a really bad crush and a death wish?” It seems the most likely explanation.

  Surprisingly, she seems to actually like that response, as rather than chewing me out for the death wish like most people would, she kisses me. I don’t know if there’s a drug in vampire saliva or if it’s the centuries of practice, but no one has ever kissed me like that before. I swear I melt into her arms.

  Sadly, she’s not willing to go any further tonight, but we cuddle for a few seconds before I pass out. It’s been a long day.

  Chapter Twelve

  Amelia: Sunday

  I wake up to the sound of something sizzling in my kitchen. I’ll never get used to that, even if I live as long as Ollie. My kitchen is basically a decoration. Still in my pajamas and rubbing sleep out of my eyes, I drag myself to the kitchen to find a sexy vampire at my stove fixing bacon and eggs. “Morning,” I mutter.

  I’d lent her a T-shirt to sleep in, and I am not complaining about the view that it’s earning me. Her ass looks amazing. “Good morning. I wanted to let you sleep as late as I could. Did I wake you?”

  I shake my head, but she’s not looking at me. “I don’t think so. What time is it?”

  “A little past noon. I only slept for a couple hours. I can’t rest when he could be out there, anywhere, plotting something.”

  Wow, I slept in. Did she turn off my alarm? “Ollie, it’s okay.”

  She tosses the food onto a couple plates and joins me at the table. “No. It isn’t. Everyone he hurts is because I didn’t stop him. I trusted him for years, and if I’d killed him then or killed him once I was a vampire instead of giving in, that wouldn’t have happened. It’s all on me.”

  I am not awake enough for this shit. “You can’t put that on yourself.”

  “I’m the one he’s trying to get back.” She bites into a strip of bacon, producing an impressive crunch.

  A bundle of feathers thuds onto the table in front of me, and it takes my sleep-addled brain a moment to comprehend why. Right, there’s a bird in my house. “Carrot?”

  “I don’t have any carrots.”

  “Carrot,” he insists, looking between our plates.

  “It’s not good for you. All that salt and fat.”

  He squawks angrily, jumping toward her plate only for her to pull it back at the last second.

  “One little piece, and that’s it!” She breaks off a piece of bacon and tosses it onto the table, distracting him long enough for her to eat more. I take the opportunity to take a bite, and it’s amazing. Clearly, I need to marry this woman so she’ll keep cooking for me. I’ll even put up with more of that weird pie thing.

  “Wait, I didn’t have any bacon. Did you go shopping?”

  The bacon falls from her lips, landing on her bare thigh. “No,” she manages after a moment.

  “Think it’s poisoned?”

  “It doesn’t smell like it. Or taste like it.”

  “There’s plenty of poisons that wouldn’t,” I say. Hell, I could probably grab something from work that wouldn’t.

  “I’d still smell it. I didn’t quite trust it to still be good, since from the sound of it, you rarely buy groceries, so I inspected it quite thoroughly, even though the expiry wasn’t anytime soon. It’s just bacon. Same for the eggs.”

  “Then why?”

  “He loves playing games.” She sighs, gritting her teeth as she pushes her plate away. “It’s a message. He knows where I am, he knows who you are, and there’s nothing I can do to stop him.”

  I eat another piece of bacon. If the murderous psychopath is going to be nice enough to buy me a meal, it’d be rude not to eat it. Plus, Ollie made it, and it’s delicious. “Why only do this? Why not try to kill me? Or you? Or do something besides leaving some food in my fridge?”

  “It wouldn’t be him then. Maybe he’s waiting for something, but most likely, he wants to bide his time while we stew in the knowledge that he’s coming.”

  “So let’s leave.”

  “And go where?”

  “Anywhere. How would he know?”

  She shakes her head. “The same way he knows that I’m here. He’s always one step ahead. He’s probably watching us now.”

  “We can get in your car and just keep driving. Do you have a passport? We could go to the US.”

  “Mia—”

  “Or we can kill him.”

  Her fingers tap on the table. “I’m not willing to keep running. I’m sick and tired of looking over my shoulder, but we don’t have any way to take the fight to him. He knows where we are, and we don’t know where he is.”

  “Then we’ll wait for him to slip up.”

  “He doesn’t slip up.”

  I finish my breakfast and hers as I try to process that. He’s not a god, at least, I assume not. I’ve never met one, but he’s not omniscient. “Then why did it take him this long to find you? How did you escape in the first place? He will slip up. We can bide our time and try to get all the information we can. How about we go to the Community Center tonight and see about hiring a few fiends? Guards, PIs, hitmen, sounds like you could afford a whole army.”

  “And they could all be on his payroll.”

  “Ollie, you can’t assume that he knows everything. If you let yourself believe that there’s nothing we can do, we’ll never be able to kill him. We have to try something.”

  “And if they’re in his pocket?”

  I groan. “Then I guess we die. It’s still better than assuming we can’t do anything.”

  “Maybe we can get some cameras and some more weapons. Right now, you’re the only person I trust with this. I’m not quite sure why I even trust you, but I do. I can’t bring more people into it, but unless he’s learned some impressive new tricks in the last few centuries, he can’t bribe a camera or a bullet.”

  “What about your priest?”

  She sighs, staring at our empty plates. “I trust him.”

  “Okay. It’s Sunday, so I guess you found the only excuse in the world to take me to church. We can do that, and then we get to go shopping.”

  Nodding, she rises. “All right. Let’s do it. I guess it beats the alternative.”

  So, church. Great.

  * * *

  I swear I’ll never get used to this car. It is the nicest thing I’ve ever seen. I bet it even offers turndown service, though I already have enough things breaking into my apartment without a car making my bed. I do want to see what kind of mint it’d leave on the pillow, though. We pull up in front of an old church. I guess it’s reasonably pretty, though it’s not one of those European cathedrals that you’d travel miles to see. Is it a cathedral or a church? I honestly don’t know the difference.

  I glance at Ollie as we get out of the car. She’s said that she’s fine, but I’m still a little worried she’ll burst into flames when she steps into the sunlight. I worried just as much walking to the car too. I offered to bring it around, and not only so I’d have the chance to drive it, but she insisted.

  “You really don’t burn in the sun?” I ask.

  “For the dozenth time, no. It’s unpleasant, it hurts a little, but that’s about it. It’s sort of like walking outside with a bad sunburn but all the time.”

  I won’t ask how she’d know. I’m not that dumb. “This is your church?” I ask.

  “Yes.”

  It’s not a cathedral, then. “How long have you been coming here?” The rocks crunch under our feet, and I can hear bees buzzing about, though I don’t see any. She can probably smell them or something. I don’t want to be a vampire—I barely even want to be a human—but sometimes, I have superpower envy.

  “Around thirty years. It took me quite a while to work up the nerve.” Eighty years definitely counts as quite a while. “I had to ask around for who’d be the most understanding. There was a djinni I knew, Akil. He was an interesting man, and he used to come here.”

  “A Catholic djinni?”

  “What can I say? He knew the wo
rd of God when he found it.”

  Not worth it. “What happened to him?”

  “Someone trapped him in a lamp.”

  “You’re joking.”

  She smirks, taking a seat at a bench a few feet away from the back door. “Of course I’m joking. He went back home. He said it would be a short visit, maybe ten years, but time works differently there.”

  Can’t say I know too many djinn. And anyway, I guess a Catholic djinni isn’t any weirder than a Catholic vampire. No. It still is. “We’re not going inside?” Maybe the sun doesn’t hurt her, but it’s way too hot out for me.

  “I can’t.”

  “Oh, right. Sorry.” I sit down next to her, trying to avoid tripping and shoving my foot in my mouth again. I know full well she can’t go in the church. What the fuck was I thinking? Before I can finish berating myself, a nun waves at Ollie through the door and runs away. “Friend of yours?”

  “Sister Patricia. Can’t say I know her too well. She’s gone to get Father Gregory.”

  “I will never get used to this stuff.”

  “What’s to get used to?”

  Church. Vampires trying to kill me. Having to leave the house on a Sunday when I should be off my ass on something strong and fun. “Nothing.” I sigh and cross my legs as I lean back on the uncomfortable metal bench. I get that it looks good in the garden with the little rock display and all the flowers, but couldn’t we have cushions? Something waterproof maybe.

  The door opens, and a dark-skinned man with a close-cropped beard and shockingly blue eyes steps out. He’s wearing priest clothes. I’m assuming he’s the guy. “And who might this be?” he asks with a mighty grin. I’d call it shit-eating if I wasn’t trying to be a little less blasphemous.

  “This is Mia,” Ollie says and stands up to meet him. “The woman I told you about.”

  “Well, you do move fast.” His voice is softer than I’d have expected but with a certain gravitas that makes you have to listen. I can see why he went into public speaking, though if he’s as progressive as she makes him sound, I think his talents would be better spent in politics. “Do I have time to set things up, or do you want me to marry you two here and now?”

  Olivia sputters. I can’t help but picture her doing a spit take with blood instead of coffee, and I laugh like a slightly crazier woman than I actually am. “We’re not getting married,” she insists.

  “Damn, and here I was preparing my vows,” I say.

  “I…you…what?” She flushes, her cheeks darkening almost imperceptibly, and her mouth dropping as she stares at me.

  Father Gregory claps her on the back. “I like her.” He takes a seat on a second bench near ours, leaving Olivia standing befuddled. “Are you trying to drag our friend into this century? Do you know how long it took me to convince her to get a cell phone? The internet was a quick sell, though. I just had to tell her she could shop while avoiding people.”

  “You know Italians. They love taking things slow, and she has all the time in the world to do so. I’m surprised you convinced her to get a phone at all.”

  She glowers at me. Apparently, she can’t quite bring herself to do so to him. “I adapted fine, thank you. I’d love to see how you two would handle technology five hundred years from now.”

  “I’m afraid I’ll be in heaven, so I’ll already have whatever technology you’ll receive and will have mastered it long before you even convince yourself to buy it,” he replies, meeting my eyes with that same playful grin.

  “I don’t think there’s technology in heaven.”

  “Who’s the priest here?”

  I can see why she likes him. “Come on, Ollie, sit down.”

  She does, begrudgingly, and I place a possessive hand on her thigh. Hey, she’s making me go to church; I can make it fun.

  “Ollie?” he asks. “I like that. It suits her.”

  “She wouldn’t let me call her Liv.”

  “Yeah, I got that speech once.”

  With a groan, she turns to Father Gregory, her hand idly moving mine out of her lap. “We’re here for an urgent reason, if you two are done making fun of me.”

  “I can take a break,” I say.

  “What is it, Olivia?” he asks.

  “He’s back.”

  The grin vanishes, and his eyes grow serious, his posture stiffening as he clears his throat. “Iago?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, fuck.” Okay, coming here was completely worth it. “Do you need help getting out of the city? The country? A safe place to lie low? Any favors cashed in? I’m not letting him hurt you again.”

  “I appreciate that, Father, but no.” She shudders, closing her eyes as she squeezes my hand. She hadn’t taken it away after she moved my hand. “I’m not running anymore. I must stop him. He’s hurting more people.”

  “Well, then, what can I do?”

  We hadn’t actually figured that much out yet. “He’ll come after anyone close to me. That could include you. He’s already shown that he knows about Mia. Last night, he broke in or more likely had someone else break in.”

  “Are you two okay?”

  “We’re fine. He just left us breakfast, but I need to figure out how he’s doing it. If it’s a human breaking in, I’ll eat them, torture them for information, mind control them, whatever I have to do.”

  “Make sure you come for confession afterward.”

  “Of course.” How are they even Catholic?

  “You’re okay with that?” I ask.

  “She gave up killing, but she has to eat, and even the Bible is quite fond of war.”

  So he’s more of an Old Testament kind of guy. But cool with gays. I don’t get it. I wonder if he eats shrimp.

  “I need you to get the word out. If anyone in your congregation knows anything, I need it. He’s five-six, very pale, drinks blood, dark hair, sharp cheekbones and chin, a strong brow with a scar on the left side. He likely still has an Italian accent, but I haven’t seen him in five hundred years, so despite having his image burned into my mind, I can’t say what he may look or sound like now.” She shifts uncomfortably, clearly disturbed by even picturing him.

  I lace my fingers between hers. “We’ll stop him.”

  “I’m not sure how much the description will help, but I’ll find out anything I can. Do you want me to stay with you? Or find you a new place? I was in the army. I can handle myself.”

  Olivia gives a small smile and nods appreciatively. “I don’t know. Maybe. I appreciate the offer, but right now, I want you to keep an eye out and to look after yourself.”

  “I’ll be safe in the church.”

  She swallows, closing her eyes as a tear escapes them. “No, you won’t. He can enter them.”

  His eyes narrow as he stares incredulously. “And yet you think your inability is a sign that God hates you? The man is a monster, and I don’t mean that as the slur. I mean he is heartless, and from what little you’ve said, the vilest person I’ve ever heard of. It’s not God’s judgment. It’s a weird quirk of your genetics.”

  “It sure doesn’t feel like it.”

  “Be that as it may, I’m more convinced of it than ever. If you ever manage to die, I’ll be sure to see you there.”

  She sniffles, but the corners of her mouth twitch slightly. That really meant a lot to her. I wish I could manage that. “Thank you. You have my cell phone number. Keep me abreast of anything you find out, and please try to stay underground.”

  “Because you think he wouldn’t murder my congregation or the sisters instead?”

  She falters, her gaze falling to the flowers nearby. “You’re right. Let me know if anything happens.”

  “I will.”

  She rises. I guess we’re done here. “Thank you, Father.”

  “You don’t want to do confession?”

  “I might die. I suppose I ought to.” Really inspiring confidence, honey.

  I move to leave, but Ollie’s grip on my hand tightens. “Honey?”


  “I don’t want you out of my sight. I haven’t done anything you don’t know of. It’s fine.” She turns back to him and confesses biting some guy. Wow, I can’t believe she’d do that to me. I have all this perfectly good blood inside me, and I’m not good enough. She goes into a bit more detail about last night, the carnage we saw, freezing up, and sharing a bed with an unmarried woman. He laughs that last one off and says that she’s forgiven. I didn’t think confession was quite that simple, but I’ve only seen it in movies.

  “Is there anything you’d like to confess?” he asks me when they’ve finished.

  “I’m good.”

  “Mia, please,” Ollie says.

  “I’m not Catholic.”

  “But—”

  “We can’t make her, Olivia,” he says. “I know you’re scared for her, but this gives you all the more reason to make sure she stays alive.”

  She looks down at me, pleadingly, for another moment but gives in. “Okay. Fine. Let’s get going. We have some shopping to do.”

  That night, we head over to the Community Center. I’m starting to feel like a regular sidekick. Maybe I need a cape. After all, I can’t not go with her. I won’t let her face this alone. She needs me, and I’m not at all willing to go find some other girl to date. That’d take years. Besides, my life is on the line too, and at the moment, I would slightly prefer being alive over being dead. Especially if she’d end up blaming herself for it.

  The parking lot is as empty as ever. We park and head to the old mall. “Vitaly again?” I ask.

  “No. We don’t need swords. I want something more practical.”

  I have my machete on my hip because I am rather lacking in natural weaponry, unlike some people. “I don’t know how to use a gun.”

  “Well, I suppose I’ll have to teach you.”

  “You can use a gun? Like a modern one. No black powder or flintlocks? Seriously?” I peer at her as we walk past the outer façade, trying to read her.

  She smirks. “It’s been a while, but the last time I practiced, I was still a pretty decent shot. They’re a lot more accurate now.”