by Rose Pressey
“Well, I don’t know you. Maybe when I know you, I will like you.” I plastered a fake smile across my face.
“I’ll take that. It’s better than nothing.” He chuckled.
We climbed the steps and stood in front of the door. Quinton knocked against the wood frame. His pounding was hard enough to rattle the door. No way would she not here that if she was in there. Several seconds passed with no answer.
“Maybe she knows it’s you and that’s why she’s not answering,” I said.
He scoffed. “Unlikely.”
He was awfully confident in himself. More than likely, too confident. He knocked again and within a few seconds, the sound of a lock clicked, then the door opened a few inches.
Isabella stood in front of us. She wore her usual skintight clothing. Her jeans were so low they barely covered her Miss Prim. Her tight white T-shirt didn’t reach her belly button.
Her eyes were wide and she had a slight smirk on her face as she glared at me. “What are you doing here?” She looked to Quinton and quickly to me. “And with her? Why did you bring her to my house?”
“Oh, it’s okay for you to come to my house, but I can’t come to yours?” So much for letting him talk. “And what happened to that Italian accent you had? Now you have a Texas drawl.”
“Oh, I just do that for kicks. Funny, huh? It makes my job more interesting. I always wanted to be an actress.”
“Aren’t you going to invite us in?” Quinton asked.
“For what?” She frowned.
“Come on. You know for what. Jack is missing and we know you know him.” Quinton placed his foot across the threshold, but she didn’t budge.
“Are you saying I had something to do with it?” She glared at Quinton.
“No, but you are supposed to be friends with him from way back. Aren’t you concerned about his safety?”
Her expression softened. “Of course I am.”
She opened the door wider and stepped to the side, motioning for us to enter. I hesitantly stepped into the foyer.
“Come on in and have a seat in the living room.” She motioned around the room. “I would offer you something to drink, but I don’t believe in all that hostess crap.”
“No, thanks, I’m not thirsty right now,” I quipped.
“So much for the seven fifteen meeting.” She looked at me with a frown.
I didn’t respond. What could I say?
“We don’t have time to sit and chat,” Quinton said matter-of-factly.
“Suit yourself.” She plopped down on the sofa.
I peered around at the surroundings. Her place had a relaxed, eclectic feel. Sheer white curtains underneath dark-green, velvet corded drapes hung on the windows. A marble-topped credenza was on the left wall with a brown leather sofa and two armchairs in front of the fireplace that occupied the center of the room. Large funky prints hung on the walls. Behind the living room, I spotted the edge of the kitchen with cherry cabinets and slate flooring.
“Look, I don’t know where Jack is, so you’re wasting your time here.” She studied her fingernails.
“Maybe so, but you did just go to his place,” Quinton said.
She scoffed. “That doesn’t mean I know where he is, idiot. Obviously, he was just turned and this has upset some people. Why, I don’t know.”
“Did you leave one of those maps in my friend’s car?” I asked.
Quinton glanced at me with a puzzled look.
“What? No, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said.
“I guess you didn’t get my message then?”
She furrowed her brow. “No, I didn’t.”
I didn’t know Isabella, and she’d given me no reason to like her so far, but for some reason, I believed she was telling the truth.
“Come on, Quinton, I’m leaving. Do you need a ride from me?” I moved toward the foyer.
“I know where you should look,” she said.
I stopped in my tracks and turned around to face her. “Where?”
“You should look at his partner in crime. Sophie.”
My heart rate increased. He was her partner in crime. Why had I ignored that fact? He’d showed up at Jack’s, too. Then chased us. So now I was trusting the guy? But what if he offered some clue?
Isabella sat up straighter in her seat. “I know where Sophie lives. You should look there for him.”
On one hand, I didn’t want to trust her. Heck, I didn’t trust her, but on the other hand, she had a good point. Sophie’s house may be where Jack was. We had to give it a shot. Why hadn’t Quinton suggested that in the first place? He had to know where she lived, too.
“That’s the last place she would take him. Trust me, I know Sophie, and she wouldn’t take him there. She’s not dumb. She has to know that’s the first place Rylie would look.”
“Yeah, but she doesn’t figure that I’ll know where she lives. How would I? I want to go there.”
Isabella smiled as if proud of her suggestion. Quinton shook his head.
“I have the pink car. I can go by myself.”
“I wouldn’t advise that.”
“I’m sure you wouldn’t advise a lot of things I do, but I’d do them anyway. So are you going with me, or do I go by myself?”
Isabella sat on her sofa with that same smug little smirk. I was pretty sure this was her only expression. She probably slept with that look on her face, too.
“I’ll go with you, but you’ll see it’s just a waste of time.”
“Thanks for the help, Isabella. I think.” I hurried toward the door.
“Yeah, thanks a ton,” Quinton said dryly.
I was guessing that Isabella wasn’t Quinton’s favorite person, but the same went for Sophie. So who did he like? I couldn’t say I blamed him though. Isabella wasn’t my favorite person, either. Sophie was my new nemesis. And I thought Lily would never lose that title. After hopping back in the Bug, we took off for Sophie’s.
“You know you’re just wasting time by going there,” Quinton said as he moved his legs, looking for a comfortable position in the seat.
“I thought I was wasting time by going to Isabella’s, so what’s your point?”
“Fine. Let’s get this over with. I hate to see Jack in some bad situation.”
“Yeah, you and me both.” I scoffed. He was probably just saying that. “Have you asked the vampire leader where Jack is? Maybe he knows.”
“I doubt Sophie would tell the vampire leader that she’s kidnapped a half vampire. Don’t you think?”
I glanced at him. “I suppose not.”
We pulled up in front of the historic home. It was a gray Italianate with a little black wrought iron fence out front. Sophie’s place was surprisingly cheery, too. I had expected it to be all dark and moody just as I’d expected Isabella’s home to be. Maybe with black walls to match her sparkling personality? The vampires needed to get with it if they wanted to keep that scary vibe going.
“How old is Sophie anyway?” I asked as I climbed out from behind the wheel and moved to the front of the house.
“Well, I’m not sure exactly. She doesn’t reveal her age, but since she has owned this house since her former husband built it for her in 1849, I’d say she has a few years on us.”
“Her former husband? What, did she kill him?”
“He was murdered, but they never found the killer.”
“So she may have killed him?” My eyes widened.
“I don’t know that. There was this rumor, but it has died down over the years.”
“Maybe they need to reopen that investigation.”
“Don’t let her hear you say that.”
We walked up to the door and Quinton knocked. “Maybe you should step to the side. If she only sees me, she’ll open the door.”
My heart rate increased. Could Jack really be in there with her? The most important question: did he want to be in there with her?
After a few seconds, there was still no answer. Quin
ton pounded on the door again. He looked over and gave me that I-told-you-so look. “She’s not here.”
I let out a deep breath, then inched my way over to a window, as if I was sneaking up on a wild animal.
“Why are you walking like that?” Quinton asked with amusement in his tone.
“You never know when she might pop out at me,” I whispered.
“I doubt that will help you if she sees you sneaking around on her porch.”
“Oh, I’m not afraid of her,” I huffed.
“I know you’re not. But do you want to fight her or find Jack?”
“I want to find Jack, but I’ll fight her if she gets in my way.”
“So feisty.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
“Save it.” I scowled.
“All right then. Are you ready to get out of here? Are you convinced she’s not her? Or do I need to break down the door?”
“Such an attitude,” I quipped.
He winked.
“Fine, but I had to try. Your idea of going to Isabella’s was a waste of time, too.”
“So we’re even then. Let’s go.”
I marched down the steps, through the gate, and back to the car.
“How many areas of town am I going to be seen in this pink car today?”
“Hey, you’re the one dragging me all over town.”
“Let’s head to the French Market. She has to be there. And if she has Jack, then he’ll be there.” Quinton motioned in that direction.
“I don’t think it’s a question of if she has him anymore. I’m convinced that she does have him,” I said.
As I pointed the car in the direction of the French Market, we remained silent. I was too nervous to listen to music, and I wasn’t in the mood for chitchat. What was there to say? My thoughts were focused on Jack.
As I turned a corner, Quinton yelled out, “Wait.”
My reflexes made me swerve the wheel slightly. “What the hell? What is wrong with you? You almost made me wreck. If I wreck this car, then you have to answer to Jennifer.”
He quirked a brow, letting me know he wasn’t exactly terrified at the prospect. “I don’t remember which building Sophie had a meeting in.”
“That’s it. You’re just playing games with me now. You had no intention of taking me to find Jack. I should open the door and kick your ass out right now.”
He smiled, exposing his fangs.
Anger bubbled inside me. “Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be? Every time something doesn’t go your way, or I say something you don’t like, you’re going to flash your fangs at me? Is that a warning?”
“What?” He held his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You did too, and you know it. I’m not trying to give you the run around. I honestly don’t remember which building it is. I have the address at my place. It’s right around the corner. We could swing by and get it.”
I shook my head. “Oh no. I’m not sure what kind of game you’re playing, but this werewolf is not falling for it.”
“I’m already in the car with you. Why do you trust me here, but not if we drive by my place? It’ll only take a second.”
“I can get away from you in the car. I’m driving and I’m in control.” I clutched the steering wheel even harder. “If I go to your house, you could lock me up in that dungeon of yours and throw away the key. I’d never been seen again.”
Wait a minute. Did he have Jack? Maybe this was all his plan? What if Jack was at his house? I owed it to Jack to go there with Quinton. I didn’t know how I’d save him from a dungeon, but I’d sure try. It couldn’t be any worse than saving him from a group of vampires. It was a good thing Jennifer wasn’t with me. If she found out I went to a strange vampire’s home, werewolf or not, she’d kick my butt.
“I don’t really have a dungeon. I just told you that.” He shifted again in the tiny seat.
“Yeah, sure. Right. Fine, we’ll go pick up the paper.” I didn’t offer any more argument. I’d go to his home just to make sure Jack wasn’t there. I trusted no one at this point.
“Turn right down the next street, then make the next left. It’s the fourth house on the right.”
My mind raced as I drove. If he tried any funny business, one of us wouldn’t make it out of the situation alive. And that someone wasn’t going to be me.
We pulled up to the front of another historic home. The mansion had two porches, one on the bottom, and another on top with a black iron railing stretched across the length of it. Large white columns went from top to bottom. The house was a light blue color with black shutters. An ornate gas lantern hung above the door.
“So have you owned this house for a long time too?” I asked.
“You could say that.”
“You don’t like to give straight answers do you?”
“Not unless I absolutely have to.”
“I’m guessing you don’t think you absolutely have to very often.”
He winked. “You got it.”
I peered up at the large, impressive home. “Are you coming in?” he asked as he opened the car door.
I didn’t want to, but I knew I had to for Jack. “Yeah, sure why not.”
I walked up the path behind him and reluctantly passed through the door when he held it open. A sick feeling churned in my stomach and a lump formed in my throat.
My mouth probably dropped to the floor when we stepped inside the foyer. An elegant spiral staircase greeted us. The high-ceilinged hall led into the parlor to the right. I wanted to comment on the exquisite décor, but I didn’t want him to feel too comfortable around me, so I kept my feelings inside, although maybe my gaping mouth gave away my thoughts.
A house full of antiques and art. It was exactly as I thought his home would look. He wasn’t a very hard book to read. His full persona was on display for everyone to see. Quinton was not as complex as he liked to think he was. Of course, that was just my first impression of him, but my first impressions were usually right.
When I stepped inside the parlor, the first thing I noticed was the floor-to-ceiling windows. The blue fabric from the drapes pooled on the floor in puddles of silk. The décor was rich and masculine and had Quinton’s name all over it.
Solid oak doors inlaid with walnut marked entry for each room. The soft yellow walls warmed the space. A kaleidoscopic assortment of paintings covered the walls. The rich leather smell from the sofa tickled my nostrils. Just past the parlor was the dining with a huge crystal chandelier over the long oval dining table that sparkled in the sunlight.
“I’ll just grab the paper from my desk and we can get out of here.”
“Aren’t you going to show me your dungeon?” I asked.
He raised a brow. “Tempting, but maybe some other time.”
Hmm. So far, he didn’t act as if he wanted to toss me in a torture chamber. That was a good sign. But this was too weird. It couldn’t have been as easy as he had forgotten the address as he said. And why did he have the address anyway?
When he slipped off down the hall, I peeked into the room on the other side of the foyer. Massive wall-to-wall bookshelves lined the walls, replete with all the classics. Everything was in place with no signs of Jack. Maybe Quinton was honest like he said, but I wouldn’t take any chances. If only there was time to look around the rest of the house.
But if Jack was here, would Quinton then take me to the French Market? If he wanted to finish me off, he’d get rid of me right then and there. The sound of footsteps broke me from my musings and I hurried back into the main room just in time for Quinton to pop back in.
“Looking for something?” he asked with a smile.
Busted. All right, I wouldn’t even attempt to lie my way out of this one.
“As a matter of fact, I am. I’m just making sure you’re not lying to me and that Jack isn’t here somewhere.” I peered around the room.
“You’re more than welcome to have a look around if you don’t trust me.”
“I don’t mind if I do.”
Keeping an eye on his every move, I hurried past him and down the hall. To my right was the kitchen. I stepped inside the room. It was full of white tiles and white cabinets. Very stark and very clean. Not even one crumb littered the countertop.
“Don’t do much cooking, do you? Oh, or do you only consume blood.” I wanted to touch my throat, but forced myself not to. No need to draw attention to the source.
“No, I eat, too. But that’s what a microwave is for,” he said. “Would you like to check inside the cabinets too?”
I shook my head. “That won’t be necessary.
Moving around to the foyer, I climbed the stairs to the second floor. When I reached the top, there was an assortment of doors to select from. It was as if I was on the Price Is Right. Guess which door Jack was hiding behind.
I decided to start at the back, and work my way to the front.
“Why do you have to live in a mansion, for Pete’s sake?” I asked.
“It’s not that big. There are only two floors.”
“Only two? The rooms are huge. Owning a café must be very lucrative work.”
“I’ve invested well over the years.”
“Yeah, well, okay, it’s none of my business. I’m just here to make sure you don’t have Jack. No funny business.” I pointed my finger.
“None.” He used his index finger to cross his undead heart.
The first door I opened was what I assumed to be the main bedroom.
“You’re bedroom?” I asked.
“Yes.” He nodded.
I didn’t offer to move into the room. Instead, I peered in from the hallway. Unless Jack was under the bed, I didn’t see him. There were French doors letting to a veranda. I pictured myself having breakfast out there on beautiful spring mornings. More oak shelves lined the walls, holding books and other mementos. An impressive oak mantle highlighted the wall to the right. But the room was dominated by the massive hand-carved bedroom set.
“You can check under the bed too, if you’d like.” He gestured toward the room.
“No, thank you.” I wasn’t about to step foot in his bedroom.
I closed the door. Quinton stood at a good distance behind me, allowing me to move freely through his home. Moving on to the next rooms, I opened each door. No signs of Jack, just empty, elegantly appointed bedrooms.