Blood and Black Suits (Briar's Daughter Book 1)

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Blood and Black Suits (Briar's Daughter Book 1) Page 11

by D. M. Nash


  Becca drove me home, and it wasn’t even 10:30 pm yet, which felt pretty weird. Like, it wasn’t even late. If it was summertime, and not October, the sun would have only set a little while ago.

  “Well,” she said. “I was right.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. You have a secret.”

  I had to grin. “It’s a doozy, isn’t it? Are you satisfied? I mean, is it interesting enough to entertain Your Majesty?” I gave a little half bow as best I could in the passenger seat.

  “Yeah,” she said. A beat passed. “Yeah…”

  “Is something bugging you?”

  “It’s just… Not really. This is a lot to take in, but it doesn’t seem that insane because… Well…”

  “Okay, now you’ve got my attention. What would make you feel like this isn’t that weird?”

  She watched the road as she drove, and the light from her headlights bouncing off the highway gave her eyes an odd glint. “Another time,” she said.

  “Okay, now who has a secret?”

  “Turn about is fair play.”

  I was curious, but if she was going to be an insider I’d need to learn to trust her, so I let it go for the time being, and we chatted about other things the rest of the way back to my house. I was a bit surprised she wasn’t just brimming with questions, but I guessed there was some truth to her saying this was a lot to take in.

  As she was dropping me off for the second time that night, I said, “Remember, don’t say anything to anyone about what you saw tonight.”

  She laughed. “That won’t be much of a challenge since I don’t even know what I saw tonight,” she said.

  “Even better.”

  By the time I got inside I was exhausted. I got in bed without even brushing my teeth—gross, I know—and fell asleep right away.

  XXVIII

  “Are you still glad we stayed?” Dad asked me over his coffee cup a few mornings later. It was a stormy Saturday, the kind that aren’t very common in our neck of the world this time of year.

  “In Campville? Yeah. Those guys weren’t even that bad. Just people.”

  He nodded but said, “Yeah, but we need to remember they’ve killed thousands so far.” This did kind of chill me. “We don’t even know how they do that part. I’m guessing the higher-ups in their ‘Order of the New Beginning’ take care of that. And I’m guessing they aren’t going to be very happy about what happened here. Or what didn’t happen. Maybe they’ll chalk it up to a wash, but who knows? They might not. They might be back.”

  “I’ll be on my guard. But yes, Dad, I really am happy we stayed here. I still like this place, and I still want to stay.”

  “Have you seen Richard?”

  Oh boy. I didn’t really want to talk about this.

  “You’re not going to like the answer.”

  “Cath, he’s a vampire. I know he helped us, but you need to remember that.”

  A quick shiver went through me, and I resisted the urge to put my hand to my neck, where his teeth had gone in both times. He’d fed on me once more since the showdown; I’d insisted on it to help with his healing like I had the day he first fought that woman. And of course I still hadn’t mentioned it.

  “Okay,” I said.

  He was looking at the table, but I knew he wasn’t really seeing it. He had an inner battle going on; I could feel it.

  “Dad?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Why do you hate vampires so much?”

  He was startled. Even though this wasn’t the first time I’d asked him, this time felt different. Before, I never felt like he was even close to an answer, but this time his lips parted. Then they closed. He stood up, pushing his chair back.

  He wiped at something near his eye. Maybe a tear? I was confused, but I still thought he might tell me.

  “Just be careful,” he said. “And I want you to know I wouldn’t be all heartbroken if that sunner decided to take his operation somewhere else. This town’s got a hunter.”

  “Dad, he came here to protect you. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

  He paused on his way out of the kitchen, his back taking up most of the door frame that led into the backyard. “Yeah,” he said. “I haven’t staked him yet, have I?”

  And then he left.

  That was a good point if you ignored the fact that the Association would have his head on a chopping block if he killed a good-guy vamp-slash-hunter for no good reason.

  That night I went to my little hill. I’d turned down an invitation for some general hangoutery with Becca and whoever else because I had a suspicion that the hill wouldn’t be unoccupied.

  I was right.

  “Hey,” I said, and gave him a hug from behind. His whole body was stiff, and I knew it didn’t have anything to do with the light breeze kicking up from the east. It was like I could read his mind, hearing the words before he even spoke them.

  “I’m leaving town, Catherine.”

  It was like I was the one who’d been staked. Okay, so I was being a little dramatic. I didn’t care.

  “Don’t,” I said, pressing my forehead into his jacket. He smelled so good, just like the vampire he was. He felt so good, just like the boy he was. I had to repeat it: “Don’t…”

  “I’ve been lucky with Ray so far, okay? But he’s not going to put up with me sticking around.”

  I remembered what my dad had said. I turned Richard around and looked in those gray eyes of his. He didn’t want to meet my gaze but he had the decency to do it.

  “He will. He might not like it, but he will. Your mom—”

  “I know he respected her. A lot. But that’s only going to get me so far. And anyway—” And then, I’m not even joking, word-for-word, he said what my dad said, “This town’s got a hunter.” But then he added something more. “Two of them, actually.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Don’t be stupid,” he said with a kind coolness in his voice that told me there was a lot he wasn’t saying. “I’m not saying I’ll never see you again, okay?”

  I nodded. I knew he was right. But I just couldn’t stand it. I really couldn’t imagine being interested in anyone but him now. I wanted to be with him. I wanted him to be with me. And I felt like he wanted that too.

  “Do you like me?” I asked. “Like… well, you know what I mean.”

  He smiled. “You’re sixteen, Cath.”

  I could have just about smashed his face in.

  Instead, I pushed him away from me. “So?”

  “So, I’m nineteen. It’s a little weird, don’t you think?”

  “Three years? When I’m thirty, you’ll be thirty-three. Big whoop!”

  “Thirty? Geez, you’re really planning things out aren’t you?”

  “You know what I’m saying.” I wanted to add that I’d be seventeen in less than three months, but somehow that sounded little-kid-ish in my head, so I didn’t say it.

  He shook his head. “You’re wrong though.” The smile was gone. “When you’re thirty, I won’t be thirty-three. I’ll still be nineteen.”

  Ugh.

  I didn’t want to think about that, and I didn’t really appreciate him bringing it up.

  “Get out of here,” I said, with ice in my voice. Then I let it melt a bit and added, “But call me when you get settled somewhere, okay?”

  He grinned. “Maybe.”

  He gave me a long, long hug. I thought he might kiss me, but maybe he really was put off by the whole nineteen-to-sixteen thing. On my end, I could not care less. He was a kid in my eyes, just like I was a kid. He’d been in high school this time last year, for crying out loud.

  “Bye,” I said.

  “Bye.”

  And then, poof—just like a vampire—he was gone.

  I walked back home and went to my room. I didn’t cry or anything. I just goofed off online for a couple hours and then went to sleep.

  And if, when I woke up in the morning, I vaguely remembered a dream of running through
the night with him—matching him step for step, beat for beat, just as fast as he was—and, well…

  That didn’t necessarily mean a single thing.

  END OF BOOK ONE

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  Catherine’s story continues in:

  Blood and Company

  Briar’s Daughter Book 2

  Available now on Amazon

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Inspired by pioneering works in the field such as the Sookie Stackhouse books, "Supernatural," and the more desirable aspects of Twilight, as well as numerous horror novelists, D. M. Nash is the future of paranormal suspense and romance fiction.

  Nash understands that paranormal romance writers don’t have to choose between writing “guilty pleasures” and good literature: books can be both.

  D. M. Nash is from Utah.

 

 

 


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