by T. A. White
I made it to my feet and took a deep breath. Before I could think too deeply about the risk I was taking, I stepped forward. The knot at the center of my being uncurled, and I looked up, squinting against the bright light. Birds chirped, and I could hear cars and the noise of people going about their busy lives. All sounds I associated with summer.
Everything was so green and bright and shiny. The sun was hot against my cool skin. I forgot how frickin’ hot it could be when under its direct light. My skin prickled uncomfortably like it sometimes did at the beginning of a sunburn, the sensation a familiar one from my childhood.
I stepped further outdoors, Liam and Nathan at my back. My feet pointed me at the topiary garden before I could think. It had been so long since I'd seen flowers during the day, and I don't think I'd ever seen a topiary garden in sunlight.
The two let me wander for a long time, until the sun was setting, and the street lights had come on. It was only when the sun had fully sunk behind the horizon that I headed back to the mansion where Nathan waited. Liam must have slipped off at some point. Maybe while I’d been laying on a bench staring up as white, fluffy clouds made their way across a blue, blue sky.
"Liam had other duties to attend to this evening," Nathan said in answer to my questioning look.
And did those other duties have anything to do with a certain runaway werewolf? I slid Nathan a sidelong look, noticing the tight line along his jaw, as if he was waiting for an argument. I took that to mean he had no intention of telling me where Liam had run off to. I couldn't really blame him; I wasn't one of them. Also, I was planning on a little solo work myself.
"I had a few plans for the evening myself." I headed to the mansion. "I don't suppose you could give me a ride back to my place, so I can pick up my bike?"
He shot me a look that asked what game I was playing. "Why would you need your bike?"
I shrugged. "I have a few runs for Hermes tonight and need it for transportation."
"You're not working tonight," Nathan said. "You're slated for another fun-filled night in the mansion."
"I have to work, or I'm going to lose my job. Liam said it was fine. Check with him."
He frowned at me, not trusting my words for a minute. Smart vampire. In this case, I was telling the truth. I did have to work.
He pulled out his phone, hitting a button and then holding it to his ear as it rang.
"Nathan, what is it?"
I could hear Liam just fine, despite the phone not being on speaker. I guess in addition to being able to tolerate the sun now, I also got a bump in my hearing.
"Liam, the yearling is telling me you gave her permission to work tonight." Nathan raised an eyebrow in my direction and smirked, fully anticipating his win. I gave him a tight smile back.
Liam sighed. "Not in so many words, but I did tell her we wouldn't get in the way of her making a living."
That wiped the smirk off Nathan's lips. My smile widened.
"She can't be unsupervised," Nathan said, turning away as if that would keep me from hearing the conversation. "The wolf is still missing, and you know Brax will take any reason to snatch Aileen off the street to take her out of the equation."
"I’m aware of all that. You're just going to have to accompany her on her courier runs."
Nathan's head jerked, and he glared at me over his shoulder. Heh. Looked like it was Aileen 1, vampire babysitter 0.
He hung up without saying another word, not taking his eyes off me.
I sauntered past him. "You might want to wear comfortable shoes for this."
"We're taking the car, Aileen. I'm not chasing you down while you ride along on your bike," he yelled at my back.
I waved. That worked for me. It meant an easy night of being chauffeured from client to client. Compared to a normal night on the bike, that was practically a vacation.
*
"What is this place?" Nathan asked, observing the teeming mass of humanity before us with a scowl. He'd come by his grumpiness honestly. The night had not been an easy one for him as he traipsed behind me on each of my deliveries, some of them in the not-so-good parts of the city. One of them had been to a downtown sewer. That had reeked, and he'd complained over the last few hours that he could still smell its stench on his clothes.
At each delivery, he had to sit through comments and derision directed his way by my clients—most of whom had grown used to and tolerated my presence. The addition of another, new vampire, had been enough to bring some of the old prejudices to the forefront, most of which had been directed at him.
Vampires were not popular with many other spooks. Because they were so powerful, vampires sat at the top of the food chain and didn't concern themselves about the little guys. As a result, much of the spook world feared them, but also didn't like them. Since Nathan was with me, they'd assumed he was as powerless as I was. Hence the insults. Something I'm sure the enforcer had not encountered in many, many decades.
It had been an education for him. One I had enjoyed immensely, since he couldn't retaliate against any of my clients. Not without jeopardizing my job, which I'd made sure he knew was not allowed.
The latest delivery on my schedule was set to be dropped off at the annual summer food truck festival, which was located on the green in front of the Commons. Whoever planned this event always misjudged the amount of people attending. There were over a hundred food trucks crammed on a little bitty green square packed with scores of people sampling the different cuisines.
We stood on the outskirts, watching as a band played on the stage to our right and people elbowed their way to the front of the lines. Say what you'd like about Columbus, but we took our food very seriously. I'd never lived anywhere else that had the variety and number of amazing restaurants. Whatever type of cuisine you wanted, you could find it here. We were a test market for many restaurant chains and a surprising number of franchises had sprung from our little city.
Another reason my turn hadn't been welcome. It was impossible to enjoy living in a city with such a diverse culinary scene when I couldn't fully avail myself of the delights.
"It's a food truck festival," I told Nathan.
"A what?"
I sighed. He was so knowledgeable about modern American life, it was hard to believe that this was what made him show his considerable age.
I pointed at the trucks. "They cook and serve food out of their trucks. Most of these are from Columbus, but some come from different parts of the state to participate."
"Why would they want to cook out of a truck? Wouldn't it be cramped? And unsanitary?"
I shrugged. "Cramped, probably. Unsanitary, unlikely. These trucks are basically mobile kitchens with the same health requirements. The overhead is lower than a brick and mortar restaurant, and they can go to their customer base rather than waiting for it to come to them."
Plus, they charged an arm and a leg for the experience.
"Why are we here?"
I pointed at my bag. "The recipient is in one of these trucks. I need to find him and deliver the package."
"It can't wait until this," he waved at the roiling crowd, "has dispersed?"
I shook my head. "The deadline will have passed by then, and the punishment clause will kick in. I'd prefer not to be a dishwasher for the next week."
As a punishment, it wasn't so bad. Definitely not the worst one I'd faced. Still, I had better things to do than wash dishes, and I refused to have a black mark on my record for a tardy delivery.
"Just follow me and don't bite anyone." I didn't wait for a response, setting off into the crowd. The brief had said the truck would be bright yellow and have big letters spelling out The Hungry Satyr. I glanced down at the map that had the truck’s location highlighted on it. Nathan staggered out of the crowd, his brow furrowed, as he looked around him with extreme dislike.
"I think someone grabbed my butt," he said with a disgruntled frown. I stifled my smirk and kept my smart-ass comment to myself. "Let's get this over with be
fore I have to start removing hands. Do you know where we're going?"
I folded the map and stuffed it in my pocket without looking down, as I gave him a jaunty grin. "No clue. We may have to split up to find it."
He leveled a censoring look on me. "Nice try, but where you go, I go."
I shrugged and turned on my heel, setting off to make a circuit of the main area with Nathan trailing behind me. It was slow going as the crowd pressed in on us. Most trucks had a line twenty to fifty people deep. That didn't include the gawkers trying to get a look at the menus.
The fan favorite trucks, the ones that had already built a following, had lines so long that they had to double back on themselves. One of the trucks was from a fried chicken place located in the Short North, a trendy part of the city known for its art and food. The restaurant used its truck to extend its brand, reaching those hungry people who weren't up to trekking down to the busier part of the city or contending with its horrible parking.
"These are some oddly named restaurants," Nathan said. "Who’s going to want to eat at a place called the Sticky Bun or the Cat's Meow?"
I looked at the trucks he indicated, a bright blue one with cats all over it and a pink and yellow one with what looked like donuts.
"I would, for starters. The Sticky Bun has some of the best cinnamon rolls in the city."
Hmm, cinnamon rolls. I took a step in the truck's direction only to be brought up short by Nathan's hand on my elbow.
"Nice try. You've got a job to do, remember?" Nathan said with a flat look.
I sighed. "It'd only take a minute. The line is short in front of that one."
It was true. The line was only a few people deep, not because it wasn't good but because people came here for a meal, and the Sticky Bun was known for its dessert. Later in the evening, they'd probably do good business, but for now, it was pretty slow.
"You shouldn't be eating more food—especially after your ice cream last night."
I gave him a sidelong look but didn't say anything. Guess I was right to be cautious of the companions. It hadn't taken them long to reveal what they knew to the vampires, small though that information might be.
"You haven't had any stomach pains, have you?" Nathan said, his manner nonchalant.
My shoulders tightened, and my gait hitched before smoothing out. I took us toward an offshoot section of the festival. As it had grown larger over the years, the festival's organizers had taken over adjacent areas, including a smaller green next to the main one and a parking lot across the street.
"Because if you have, it would be the first sign that your body is starting to suffer effects from your diet."
"And what other effects might arise?" I asked.
Nathan's dark eyes came to me, and his face tightened as if I'd just confirmed a suspicion of his. "Your stomach will become more intolerant of solids. You’ll develop headaches as food puts more toxins in your body. You'll have slower healing, less strength. Eventually, you won't be able to tolerate the sun, and it'll cause you extreme pain. You'll be as weak and defenseless as if you haven't consumed blood in a week."
The longest I'd ever gone without blood was thirty hours, and by the end of it, I could barely function. It was the closest I'd ever come to a rampage, and I'm not entirely convinced I wouldn't have gone on one except for the fact that I was so stinking weak I could barely lift my arms. What would a week with no blood look like for me?
I didn't respond to his explanation, turning over his words and considering each point. The stomach pains had already arrived, and they'd nearly flattened me. Yesterday's dawn had been a welcome reprieve from them. I'd have to see about the rest of his claims. Part of me wanted to discount everything he'd said. I'd been eating solids for years. Granted, never a lot and not every day, but enough that I remained suspicious of his assertions. Wouldn't these symptoms have arrived sooner if they were going to come? Why start now?
"There's the food truck," I said, leaving the topic behind for now. I'd worry about this later, when I actually suffered from the effects. For now, I had a delivery to make.
The truck had a good-sized crowd in front of it, though not quite as large as the trucks in the main court.
"The Hungry Satyr?" Nathan squinted at the sign and then made a pained grunt. "Don't tell me its manned by a satyr."
I shrugged. "Okay, I won't."
"That's not even a good name," Nathan muttered. "Why doesn't he announce what he is to everyone he meets?"
"You sound like an old man right now," I told Nathan, bypassing the line and moving to the back of the truck and knocking.
"Hey! No cutting," a middle-aged man with glasses said. He had a bit of a belly and was wearing open toed sandals. "We've been waiting thirty minutes to place our order."
"Keep your sandals on. I'm not here for food," I snapped back, banging on the back door again.
"You better not be," the woman beside the man muttered.
Nathan chuckled, pleased that I was the one they were targeting with their verbal bad will. Neither one of those two would try anything physical even if I was here for food. They'd mutter and huff, but in the end let me have my way, content to shout their anger in my wake. At another time, I might have fucked with them just for the hell of it, but I had a schedule to keep and a babysitter to shake.
"Argus, come on. Open up. I have a delivery." I waited a beat. When the door didn't budge, I sent a kick its way. Stupid satyr and their stupid games.
"Need some help, baby." Nathan's arms were folded over his chest, and he had an amused grin on his face. He got a kick out of watching me struggle it seemed. "You'll owe me though."
I let out a huff of air. Not a chance. Owing another vampire anything did not factor into my life plans. Especially not one who worked for the bane of my existence.
"Thanks, but I've got my own way of doing things." I thumped the door one last time. "Last chance, Argus, or I give it to the nymphs."
The door opened, almost hitting me in the face. Nathan pulled me out of the way in time, his quick reflexes saving me from a black eye or busted nose.
"You wouldn't dare," Argus said. He was a hot mess, his face red and drenched in sweat. His dark hair plastered to his head and kept out of his eyes by a bandanna. He wore a simple white shirt and long pants that covered his goat legs and hooves. He wore no shoes, and I briefly wondered how he passed health inspections.
Except for the hooves and legs, he looked nothing like what I’d pictured. He wasn't particularly attractive, his nose too big for his face and his eyes too small. His middle and arms were also just a little too soft when compared to Greek art featuring his kind.
He was a hell of a cook though. The crowd in front of his truck could attest to that.
I lifted an eyebrow, ignoring the fact that I'd almost suffered an unfortunate accident and projected the calm, confident courier I hoped to someday be. "Wouldn't I?"
"You'd have to deal with the punishment clause."
"I tried to deliver in good faith. The clause doesn't kick in when the recipient acts like a dick and refuses delivery." I gave him a grin.
He gestured at the front of his truck. "Come on, A. You see the crowd I'm dealing with. It's been like this all night. D called off, and I'm barely keeping up with orders as is."
I sympathized. In the few minutes he'd been out here talking to me, his customers had started getting restless, more than one glaring at us as if they could mentally force us to stop distracting the god of food they'd like to worship with their ten-dollar bills.
"The harpies are making my life hell too," he continued before I could say anything, the pent-up frustration of the evening spilling free. "They keep sabotaging the generator and poaching my customers when I come out to fix it. I think one of the little jerks was in here messing with my food earlier."
"That all sounds like it would be frustrating," I said, not caring in the least. "I've got your package so you should be able to at least serve your specialty for the rest of the ni
ght."
His eyes lit up, and his gaze went to my bag. "Is it the good stuff?"
"They're from the Strix on Fourth. You know they don't truck in anything but the best." I dug out my phone, clicking through the Hermes app to the screen where he could verify delivery. "Your secret ingredient straight from Greece. Should make your gyros taste out of this world."
Just saying it made my mouth water. As I said, Argus was an amazing cook. He did Greek with a twist, and that twist was what kept people coming back for more, and had them standing in line for long periods in the heat. It would have been nice to grab some food from him before I went on my way, but in light of my conversation with Nathan, that might not be the best of ideas.
Argus put his thumb on the screen and drew back when it gave a low hum. It turned green, signaling he was the correct recipient. The app was a weird melding of technology and magic that I didn't profess to understand. I just knew it worked, and if someone tried to cheat the system, consequences that were better left unimagined befell them.
"Ah, before you go, I've got a job for you," Argus said as I turned over his package.
I’d thought he might.
Nathan stiffened at my side. "I thought you said his delivery was your last job for the night."
"Who's this?" Argus asked, pointing at Nathan. He looked him up and down with a derisive glance.
"No one important," I told Argus as he folded his arms over his chest and looked down his nose at us. To Nathan, I said, "We give our clients the courtesy of extending a job if there’s need."
Nathan looked disgusted at the thought of prolonging this experience. I fought to hide my snort. This was a short night for me. If he thought this was bad, he needed to tag along on some of the nights that went until the sun was threatening the sky.
"Is this going to be a problem?" I asked. "We can call Liam again if you have another issue with this."
Nathan fixed me with a flat glare, and I took that as a sign to get on with it. Covering my victorious smile by turning back to Argus, I asked, "What do you need from me?"