Ravenous

by Forrest, V. K.

  “I think that’s a bad idea. Just give me the address where he’s staying and I’ll take it from there. I’ll wire the money I owe you. And a bonus,” he added. “Maybe you should take that trip to Bethany Beach to see that sister you were telling me about.” If something happens to this old geezer, Liam thought, it would be my fault.

  “I got this,” Anthony said. “I’ll make the meet. I got his address in my phone. Can’t remember a thing these days. I’ll have to text it to you.”

  “No, Anthony, just—”

  “Coming!” Anthony called to someone. “Call you Friday,” he then said into the phone.

  “No, call me after the”—the line went dead—“meeting,” Liam finished.

  “Everything okay?” Mai stood in her bedroom doorway, naked, and awfully damn sexy.

  “Um. Yeah. Sure.”

  She walked to her dresser. The top drawer was lying on the floor, turned upside down, panties under it. She opened the second drawer and took out a lacy pink bra. “You sure?”

  “It’s all good. Nothing from Kaleigh. She and Prince must be holding down the fort.”

  Mai smiled as she squatted, flipped over the drawer on the floor, and chose a pair of pink panties that matched the bra. “I’m going to jump in the shower.” She walked past him, headed for her bathroom. “Want to join me?” she asked over her shoulder.

  He didn’t need a second invitation.

  “What are you doing today?” Liam asked Mai from across the table. They were eating breakfast. Actually, her father, who sat between them, was eating breakfast and doing a crossword puzzle. Mai and Liam were drinking coffee.

  “I don’t know. So many choices.” She cupped both hands around her coffee mug, enjoying the warmth of the pottery. It was a gorgeous, hand-thrown mug Liam said he had “picked up in the south of France.” She had carried so many household items up from the shop that she was beginning to feel guilty. Like she was taking over his apartment, or playing house or something. But it seemed like such a shame to her, leaving such beautiful things in boxes when Liam, well, when they all could enjoy them.

  She glanced out the kitchen window. After four days, it had finally stopped raining and the sun shone, but the house was still chilly. Only a few days ago, it seemed as if the air conditioner had been running nonstop. Last night, Liam had had to turn the heater on, her dad had complained so cantankerously about being cold.

  “I could sort books,” Mai said. “I could put those two Tiffany lamps together, or I could start sorting silverware, which should only take ten years or so.” She frowned and leaned forward, elbows on the table. “You’ve got some gorgeous silver down there, including a mint Gorham Versailles set. Whatever possessed you to dump silver silverware into boxes, mixing the patterns?”

  Liam shrugged. “Busy?”

  “What? For the last hundred years?”

  He gave her that boyish grin that he knew made her melt. That was all he had to do whenever she was the least bit frustrated with him and he knew it. One smile, and her irritation was gone, as if it had never existed.

  “Seven-letter word meaning ‘eager and serious,’ ” her father announced. He munched on his cereal. “First and fifth letter, an E.”

  “Earnest. ” Liam glanced at Mai over the rim of his coffee mug. “You know you don’t have to do any of that. I made the mess. I’ll clean it up.”

  “In, what, another hundred years?” She leaned back in her chair, taking her coffee with her.

  “I just don’t want you to feel as if you, you know, you have to. You’re starting to make me feel bad. Like I need to put you on the payroll or something.”

  “It keeps my mind occupied,” she said, looking across the table at him. “Off other things,” she added meaningfully. “And this way, I don’t feel like such a moocher.”

  “You’re not a moocher. I invited you here.” Liam got up to pour himself more coffee. He took his black; she liked hers sweet with heavy cream. Not surprising.

  “The cable company is coming today,” he continued. “You should have Internet by this evening. At least you can read your e-mail.”

  “And you can Google the five-letter word for a journey in search of something,” her dad injected.

  Mai looked at Liam and had to suppress a giggle. She didn’t even know her father knew what it meant to Google. He had refused to even attempt to use a computer.

  Her father poured more Rice Krispies into the milk in his bowl. “Last letter, T.”

  “Quest.” Liam picked up the coffee press to offer her a refill.

  She shook her head, not wanting to tip the balance of the perfect cup of coffee she had right now. “You’re good.”

  “You shouldn’t have told me so quick,” her dad grumbled. “I knew that one.”

  Again, she smiled at Liam. “How about you? You up for silverware sorting?”

  “Um . . .” He lingered at the stove. “I’ve got someone I need to see this morning. But after that, sure. You okay with waiting here alone for the cable installer? The company said he’d be here midmorning. He’ll have to come inside to hook up the modem in the living room, but I know the guy. Name’s Shawn. He lives down the street. Perfectly trustworthy.”

  “Sure, I’m fine with that.”

  “Anyone going to bother to ask me what I’m going to do today?” her father asked, drinking the last of the milk from his bowl. He didn’t look at either of them.

  Mai wondered whom Liam needed to see. He didn’t seem to have any friends. He never went anywhere but church and the grocery store, and no one ever came to visit, except Kaleigh. She was curious, but she didn’t ask him. He wasn’t the kind of guy you quizzed. Yet another reason why she was still pretty sure he worked for the State Department.

  “Babbo, what are you going to do today?”

  “Same thing I do every day,” he grumbled. “Nothing. Pretty dull existence, I’ll tell you that.”

  “Not so dull.” She patted his hand, feeling badly for him. She knew he missed his home, his bed, his routine. He was as frustrated as she was, but while she could barely sleep at night for worry, he didn’t seem to be all that concerned that they were basically in hiding. He didn’t seem to be all that upset about his brother being dead, either. He didn’t bring up Donato’s name and when she did, he brushed over the subject or responded with a crossword puzzle question. But maybe he didn’t understand that his brother was really dead. That he had been murdered. It was hard to tell.

  “I like to walk,” the old man said. “I miss my walks. I was supposed to walk on the beach with that girl. The one with the red hair.” He scooted his chair back, making sure Prince was out from under his feet. He rose to put his bowl in the sink. “We were going to go for a walk on the beach. You think she’d like to go now?”

  “Kaleigh’s in school, Babbo. But you and I could go for a walk, I suppose.”

  “I don’t want to go with you,” he said matter-of-factly as he ran water in his bowl in the sink. “I’m tired of hanging out with you two. Both of you. A man needs his own friends. Not his daughter and her lover.”

  Liam raised his eyebrows at her.

  Mai had to cover her mouth with her hand to keep from giggling out loud. How did her father know she and Liam were lovers? She was very careful about public displays of affection and he was always asleep when she left the bedroom and when she returned before dawn. At least she thought he was. Maybe he didn’t mean lover literally. Once again, it was hard to tell with him.

  “I need some friends,” her father went on as he shuffled out of the kitchen, the dog trotting behind him. “The redhead and I, we’re friends.”

  “I’m going downstairs to the shop in a few minutes,” Mai called after him. “Get your sweater and you can sit outside in the sunshine and do your crosswords.”

  “Six-letter word for dull,” he muttered over his shoulder as he went down the hall. “Third letter, R.”

  Liam started to answer, but before he got the word out of his mo
uth, her dad shouted it in a sing-song voice. “Bor-ing!”

  She laughed. What else could she do?

  “So I’ll see you after a while?” Liam poured his coffee into a stainless-steel travel mug she’d found behind the counter in the shop with what appeared to be years of mold on the inside. A little soap and hot water, though, and it was as good as new.

  “Sure. No need for you to stick close to home. There’s no weasel after you,” she quipped.

  Liam kissed the top of her head on his way out of the kitchen. “I’ll take care of it. I swear I will.” He sounded so serious. It was so sweet.

  “Could you stop for bread on your way home? And potato chips, the ones in the blue bag? Dad likes his chips.”

  “Anything else?” he asked.

  She turned in her chair so she could see him as he went out the door, thinking he sounded a little irritated. “I don’t mind going to the market myself.”

  “I’ll take care of it.” Liam walked out of the apartment, closing the door behind him.

  He took his leather coat off the hook in the stairwell and tossed it over his shoulder. He took the steps two at a time.

  He’d woken up feeling as if something wasn’t right and he was jittery. Something crackling in the air made him jumpy. That worried him. Last night Anthony was supposed to have met Machhione for dinner. He’d feel better once he heard from him. He’d tried to call Anthony several times since the other day. He’d left phone messages, but the old man was ignoring his calls.

  At the bottom of the steps, Liam slipped into his jacket and, with his coffee in one hand, dialed Fia with the other. She’d called him earlier this morning, but he didn’t want to talk to her while in the apartment; he didn’t want Mai or Corrato overhearing their conversation.

  “Hey,” Fia answered. “Can’t talk. Headed into a meeting with a bunch of bigwigs from Washington. Call you back?”

  “You called me at six-thirty this morning,” he complained.

  “I found info on your Riccis. I was calling to tell you what I found.”

  “You were at the office in downtown Philly at six-thirty this morning?”

  “No rest for the wicked.” She chuckled. “Or the FBI. Gotta go. Call you later.”

  She disconnected and Liam tucked the phone back into his pocket.

  Fia had said she had info on the Riccis. As in plural. He fully expected there to be intel on Donato, but did that mean the FBI had information on Corrato, as well?

  Liam was rarely surprised by human behavior, but that one shocked him.

  Chapter 18

  Liam walked down the street, heading east, and sipped his coffee. The air was cool, though not cold, and the sun shone brightly. He pushed his sunglasses onto his head, closed his eyes for a second, and enjoyed the feel of the sunshine on his face. Humans thought vampires abhorred the sun, that it made them melt or ignite or something equally ridiculous, mostly because of what they had seen on TV. The opposite was true for Liam. The sun made him feel alive; it made him feel God’s presence, even as cursed as he was, and each time the sun rose, it reminded him that he had another day to prove himself. To strive for redemption.

  He opened his eyes and slipped his sunglasses back on. He had more pressing business right now than the redemption of his soul.

  What could Corrato possibly have had to do with his brother’s business? He had moved to Delaware when Mai was a little girl. Maybe Liam had misunderstood Fia. Maybe she meant she had information on Donato.

  And maybe vampires couldn’t fly. . . .

  His cell rang. That was two calls in one morning. Pretty unusual. This time it was his mother.

  “Liam.”

  “Ma.”

  “Mary Hall tells me I had a leak in the pipes and my house flooded.”

  “What the hell are you doing talking to Mary Hall on the phone? I thought you hated her.”

  “All water under the bridge now,” his mother said.

  Mary Hall and Liam’s father had been having an affair at the time he was murdered. In all fairness, his father and Mary Hall had been having an affair on and off for centuries, and his mother had had her share of affairs, as well. It was the way it worked when one was doomed to perpetual life. Vampires were no more monogamous than humans seemed to be. That didn’t mean his mother had approved.

  “Don’t avoid my questions,” she went on. “How bad is my house? You should be staying there. I told you to stay there.”

  “Your house is fine, Ma.”

  “She said thousands of dollars of damage. My house could be a total loss.”

  He’d been there the day before. Kaleigh had been true to her word. Not only had the water damage been repaired, but the entire hardwood floor in the living room had been refinished; it looked better than it had in fifty years. “Ma, the house wasn’t a total loss. Everything is fine there. Better than fine.”

  “You haven’t even asked me how I am, Liam.”

  He exhaled, wishing he’d brought a bigger mug of coffee. “How are you, Ma?”

  “I’m fine, but Victor, he’s not so good.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “He’s short of breath. He can’t even play nine holes anymore. It’s his heart, I’m afraid.”

  “Maybe it’s time you came home.” Liam tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice. No one told Mary McCathal what to do, not even Liam McCathal. “You don’t want to be stuck there if Victor dies. It will be a mess getting him home in time.”

  Whenever a Kahill died, he or she was brought to the St. Patrick’s cemetery in Clare Point so that on the third day, the vampire could be reborn again. The ceremony, if necessary, could take place elsewhere; Liam had once died in the Sahara Desert. But it was an inconvenience, what with sept members having to be present at the time of rising. Then the newly born teenager, full of questions, had to be escorted safely back to Clare Point. It was just easier when the process could take place at home.

  “It won’t be a mess!” his mother argued. “I’ll just toss him in a car and drive back.” She was now clearly as aggravated with him as he was with her. “You don’t think I can drive that far alone, do you? You don’t think I’m capable of handling a little problem like a dead husband?”

  Liam exhaled. He’d heard that everyone suspected his mother had married Victor and had wondered if it was true. Even if they did marry before humans, the marriage didn’t count. Not here in Clare Point. That was why she had left in the first place. “I was thinking it wouldn’t be easy for you to get him in the car. Physically. Once he dies. Rigor mortis, Ma.”

  “So, I’ll have to move him fast, before he stiffens up on me!”

  Liam had to smile. His mother, if nothing else, was a practical woman. “Fine, whatever. Come home. Don’t come home. Do what you want. You always do.”

  “Maria says you haven’t had your interview.” And just like that, she had moved from one combative conversation to another.

  “She would be correct in that observation.” He walked past The Hill and waved to the proprietor, Tavia, who was sweeping her sidewalk.

  “Liam, don’t be such a stranger,” she said as he walked by. “Stop by and have a beer one night.”

  He nodded, then held out the cell to show her he was talking. My mother, he telepathed.

  “Tell her to come the hell home,” Tavia shouted. “You hear that, Mary McCathal? It’s time you and that crazy Victor came home!”

  Liam smiled. “Hear that, Ma?”

  “Tavia says it’s time we go the hell home,” his mother said, talking to Victor, he presumed, and not him.

  Liam heard the rumble of a male voice and then his mother spoke into the phone again. “Victor says to tell Tavia to kiss his hairy white ass.”

  Liam chose not to pass that tidbit on. “What do you want to know about my hearing, Ma? You know as much as I do. I haven’t been interviewed and no one has told me what’s going on.”

  “You need to relax more, Liam. You’re too uptight
.”

  He clenched his coffee cup tighter.

  “So what about the girl? The one living with you? You know better, Liam McCathal. An HF!”

  “Mary Hill tell you about that, too?”

  “No, that was Mary Kay. Now, what’s going on? Frankly, Liam, I’m worried. First you pull that stunt in Paris and now you have an HF living in your apartment? In the winter?”

  “And a dog,” he quipped. “Surely she told you about the dog.”

  “Actually, I did hear there was a dog, but I’m being serious, son. You’re treading on thin ice with the Council. Why would you poke them with a sharp stick? I mean, honestly, Liam . . .”

  After that, Liam didn’t say anything more; he just let her talk. Five minutes later, he was off the phone. He walked by the Lighthouse Motel and waved at the octogenarian proprietress, Mrs. Cahall, who was standing out front wearing a white tennis skirt and sweater, smoking a cigarette. She was all skinny, white legs and bright pink lipstick. She waved wildly at him. She didn’t play tennis, but she played a mean game of gin rummy and had won two hundred dollars off him last time he’d been home.

  “Closed for the winter! Come by tomorrow night for cards!” she hollered after him. She was hard of hearing, so she assumed everyone else was. “I’ll beat your pants off!”

  He smiled and waved and kept going. There were a lot of crazy vampires in this town and she was definitely one of them. Maybe crazy was too harsh a word. Maybe eccentric better described her. Because there were some definite crazies around here.

  A block off the bay, he turned north, leaving the quaint shops and eating establishments, mostly closed now, for a residential area. Most of the Victorian cottages had been built before the turn of the twentieth century and were painted bright, historically accurate colors: pink, turquoise, and yellow. All the homes, even those rented out in the summer, were owned by locals. And now that the summer season was over, the vampires were back in town. They were everywhere: raking their lawns, repairing mailboxes, sweeping their sidewalks. Liam waved and smiled.