The Dangers of Dating a Rebound Vampire

by Molly Harper

  I blew out an exasperated breath. “Well, that’s disappointing. I was really hoping we would get this magical clue, like ‘Gigi emotionally traumatized Nik by reminding him of a hated enemy who attacked him on a Christmas tree farm.’ And all I would have to do was prove I was trustworthy around pointy tree stumps or something.”

  “That’s not usually how it works,” Jane said, squeezing my arm.

  “I just wish I could make Iris see how my situation isn’t that different from hers. I know she has a tendency to overreact when I’m in peril, but I thought she’d have adjusted by now. She’s still pulling the Mama Capulet routine pretty hard.”

  “So, since it’s upsetting everybody who loves you, maybe you should just walk away from this guy and never ever talk to him again,” Jamie suggested brightly.

  “I will not take dating advice from the man who knowingly and willingly bloodmated himself to Ophe­lia Lambert,” I told him. “At least Nik’s violent episodes are unintentional. Ophelia’s violent episodes happen because it’s Tuesday or because her hair didn’t turn out the way she wanted.” Jamie’s mouth dropped open, as if he was going to defend his Machiavellian lady love. “But even though I’ve mocked you mercilessly for dating her, I’ve never genuinely encouraged you to leave her. Because that’s none of my business. I would hope you would do the same for me.”

  Jamie scowled again. “Oh, sure, bring logic and compassion into the argument. Cheater.”

  “You and Iris will be fine,” Jane assured me, sliding into the chair at my left. “It’s not like Jenny and me, where we had to build a relationship from the ground up as adults. You have a strong foundation. This is just a minor bump in the road. And I know this probably doesn’t make you feel any better, but her anger and spazzery comes from a place of concern. Trust me, as someone who has been hassled all of her life by someone who means well, it’s less annoying than the efforts of someone who is honestly trying to hurt you.”

  “I will keep that in mind,” I promised Jane.

  Jane winked at me, giving my shoulders a squeeze. “Good girl. Now, what are you finding?”

  I handed Jane my notes, which she read over quickly, making little asterisks on the points she considered important. “You know, until Nola showed up, I wouldn’t have believed there was such a thing. I mean, Gabriel told me that witches were real, but until I saw her work her mojo . . . We live in an amazing world, Gigi.”

  “Well, this amazing magical world has it in for you vampires just as much as us humans, so at least it’s equal opportunity.” I flipped open her copy of Hermann’s Guide to Supernatural Physiology. “As you know, vampire energy isn’t the same as human energy, because we run on different wavelengths. Basically, witches have to work a little harder to cast on you guys, because your energy is harder to pin down. You would have to have frequent contact with the vampire to cast on him, dose him with the potion, or snatch his hair, blood, et cetera.”

  “Well, strike amazing, that’s just horrible,” Jane said, shuddering.

  “What’s horrible?” Nola asked, strolling into the shop and dropping her purse next to my table. Nola was wearing the blue-and-peach scrubs required for her job at Half-Moon Hollow’s free clinic. She looked tired and worn out, which was natural, considering the rigors of being a medical empath who hung around sick people all day, but she was happy.

  “The various bits of DNA that witches need for casting,” Andrea said, pouring a cup of tea she’d been brewing for Nola, knowing that her chamomile-loving step-great-great-great-great-great-granddaughter was coming for a visit. “It’s unseemly.”

  “And on that note, I’m going to go see what Dick is doing,” Jamie said, snapping his book closed. “Gross club memberships and DNA collection are a little much, even for me.”

  “According to what I’m reading, whoever cursed Nik sees him frequently,” I said, showing her the book. “As far as I know, the only people he sees regularly are the other employees at the Council office and me. Since I know that I’m not the one casting on him, I would assume it’s another Council employee. But the Council doesn’t employ a full-time magical consultant. Also, there’s the added complication of Nik not remembering being worked over, spell-wise, so we’re dealing with someone pretty powerful, maybe with hypnotic abilities. I don’t think someone like that is going to be working as a file clerk. For all her faults, Ophelia is a big believer in taking advantage of her employees’ full potential.”

  “Have you thought about who at the office could be a witch?” Nola asked, sipping her tea. “Someone who might want to harm you, considering that the curse seems to focus on hurting you?”

  “Besides Ophelia?” I asked. “Mr. Crown doesn’t seem to like me, but I don’t think he likes anyone. Margaret, Ophelia’s secretary, is pretty snippy with me, but I think it’s because I’m borderline rude to her boss, like, all the time. Also, I don’t respect her carefully constructed schedule. And there’s the lady from accounting whom I caught taking Jordan’s yogurt out of our office’s fridge. She acted all indignant about being caught, like it was my fault for walking in on her stealing.”

  Nola nodded. “Either of those last two seems plausible. Witches can be sticklers for time . . . and yogurt.”

  “So really, there are several people at my office who do not wish me well, and any number of them could be witches. This conversation is not making me feel better.”

  “You could always quit,” Dick called from the back.

  “I really can’t,” I called back. “My postprobationary compensation package of fabulous prizes just kicked in. I’m making more money in a pay period than I made in my entire summer at NetSecure. I’ve already made a couple of payments on my student loan.”

  “Money’s not always the answer,” Dick yelled.

  “If the question is how do I establish life as an independent adult who doesn’t need to ask her sister for lunch money, then yes, money is the answer,” I shot back.

  “Also, I don’t know if she should pay any mind to the man who slips twenties into my pocket when I hug him!” Nola called.

  Dick poked his head out of the storeroom. “We agreed to pretend that doesn’t happen!”

  Laughing, I shuffled through the stack of books on the table. I couldn’t help but feel I was missing something. I was approaching the problem all wrong, but I couldn’t figure out why. I stood up from the table and wandered into Jane’s magic section. Nola carefully vetted all of Jane’s magic texts, for fear of providing the wrong book to an irresponsible practitioner. All of the “dangerous” books were kept in a special storage case, for which Jane had the only key. But those titles were more along the lines of How to Flay Your Enemy Alive with Your Thoughts and Magical Exsanguination for Fun and Profit. Not exactly the droids I was looking for.

  I needed to spend more time around non-nerds.

  I tapped my fingers along the spines as I scanned the titles in the magical history section. Witches of Salem: Fact and Fiction, History’s Most Disappointing Magical Politicians, Sorcerers of the Ancient Egyptian Royal Court, and at the end of the shelf, bottom row, Magickal Families of the Old World.

  Unlike the slick, soft-covered editions on the shelf, the book was old, battered, and bound in mottled blue linen. The gold lettering was practically worn off the cover. Jane would consider this book gently loved. I opened it and scanned the pages, which listed the most prominent European magical families by country, how they started, and what they were up to at the time of the 1912 printing date. It was sort of funny that this was basically the same thing we were doing for the vampires, just the old, dusty beta version. (I would never ever let Jane hear me say such a thing.) A piece of information floated up to the surface of my brain.

  Renart.

  According to the Council records, the Renart family started in France, and its members were interesting enough to be on a Council “watch list.” I flipped to the
index, looking for the Rs. The Renart family was listed on page 326, and it merited several paragraphs:

  Known for their memory charms and ability to persuade those around them through creative cursework, the Renarts lived quite comfortably in Haute-Normandie for generations. Members of the family were rumored to have dabbled in necromancy toward the end of the eighteenth century, ostracizing them from the magickal community. The family moved to the Louisiana territory under enormous pressure from other magickal families and disappeared into the mundane populations of America.

  Mundane? That was unnecessarily hurtful.

  The colorful surroundings of the shop, my friends’ voices, everything faded away as I tried to connect all the dots in my head. So the Renarts messed around with necromancy and got booted out of an entire continent. Somehow they were connected to this Linoge character and his violent outbursts. Did messing around with vampires’ brains count as necromancy? Violent outbursts, memory issues . . . Nik. This had to be connected to Nik’s fugue states. If Marie Renart, the first in the line of Renarts, was Linoge’s girlfriend, she could have diddled with his brain so he had violent feeding episodes he couldn’t remember. Could one of Renart’s descendants have messed with Nik’s brain? Had it happened here or while he was traveling? What were the parameters of the curse?

  I pulled out my phone and opened the photo I’d taken of the Renart watch list. It ended in 1968 with the birth of a Jennifer Renart in Paris, Illinois, a tiny town only two hours’ drive from the Hollow, but there was no date of death listed. Had Jennifer managed to shake her vampire tail and die a peaceful, unobserved death? What had happened to the last Renart?

  Jane carefully cleared her throat, peering over the top of the bookshelf at me while she stirred her bloodychino. “There’s another option you haven’t considered.”

  “Does it avoid an explanation in which someone is sneaking into Nik’s room every night to steal his hair? Because I will jump on it,” I told her.

  “Cooperation,” Jane said gently. “What if Nik isn’t as magically manipulated as he seems to be?”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “I don’t know, plausible deniability? He doesn’t want to admit that he’s involved, so he uses the ‘Oh, I don’t remember, baby, I was under an evil curse’ excuse. So he gets whatever rewards are involved in doing his master’s bidding plus whatever, er, rewards, you might be giving him.”

  “I refuse to accept that Nik is knowingly involved in all this,” I told Jane sternly. “Besides, you were the one who said he doesn’t want to hurt me.”

  “From what I could see, he doesn’t,” she said, throwing her hands up. “But as Miss Worst-Case Scenario, I am pathologically required to put that out there. I just want you to be careful, Geeg, that’s all. You’re one of the last remaining humans in our little family. I want to do whatever we can to protect you.”

  “Well, I appreciate it, but cut it out.”

  Jane nodded. “Duly noted.”

  “And while we’re on the subject of office awkwardness, we found this for you,” Andrea said, handing me a paperback with a stark black, white, and red cover.

  “The Office After Dark: A Guide to Maintaining a Safe, Productive Vampire Workplace,” I murmured. Almost every subject in the table of contents pertained to my workplace issues: “Dealing with hostile, fanged supervisors,” “How to report issues with human coworkers without looking like a vampire pet wannabe,” and “Personal safety at the office.” I turned on Jane. “You couldn’t have given this to me a few weeks ago?”

  “Honestly, we didn’t think you’d need it. We thought you would adjust better to the undead work environment,” she said, making Andrea snort.

  “That’s not funny,” I told all three women as they laughed at me.

  “It’s a little funny!” Jamie yelled from the back of the shop.

  • • •

  I arrived home a bit later to find Iris in full preparation for date night. She and Cal were going to try a new vampire-friendly dinner theater in Murphy. They hadn’t had an evening alone since I’d moved back home with all of my, well, let’s just say issues. I was actually looking forward to having the place to myself for the evening, and not just because I felt so profoundly guilty for intruding on their marriage to the point where they had to schedule time together. I was planning to veg out, eat some of the Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food I’d saved for a special occasion, and tend to some much-needed personal grooming that I’d neglected over the past few weeks. There would be plucking, moisturizing, and exfoliating. A lot of exfoliating.

  “Gigi,” Cal said, his tone far too casual as he stepped into the hallway, struggling with his necktie. “You’re home on time.”

  “Yes, and I was exactly where I said I was, all night. There was no reason for Iris to call the bookshop to check on me,” I said, gently batting his hands away so I could fix his tie. And yes, I had no right to be indignant when I had, in fact, lied to him about being with my coworkers when I was with Nik the night before. But I’d worry about that when and if he ever found out about it.

  “I wasn’t checking up on you. I needed to check with Jane about . . . business-related things,” Iris called from the bathroom, where she was carefully brushing out her coffee-colored curls.

  “Smooth, Iris, really smooth,” I called back. “Look, I get that you guys are worried. And I know it comes from a place of concern. I love you, and I appreciate that you want me to be safe.”

  Cal pursed his lips. “I sense a ‘but’ coming.”

  “Yes, as in, I’m going to kick your butt if you don’t stop treating me like a little girl.”

  Cal wrapped his arms around my shoulders, resting his chin on top of my head. “I won’t apologize. I love you as much as any brother could. I worry for you every time you step out the door. I feel pride every time I hear someone at the office talk about the fantastic work you’re doing. And I want to murder every single male who looks in your direction, even if it’s an old friend. I know that we’ve embarrassed you and made things difficult. I don’t want to cause you distress. But I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe, even if it makes you temporarily unhappy.”

  “I know.” I sighed. “I know you love me. And I forgive you for the embarrassment and unhappiness.”

  “Thank you,” he murmured into my hair.

  “Eventually,” I added.

  “I knew that was coming.” He sighed.

  “Is Nik really so bad?” I asked.

  “Under normal circumstances, I would say no,” Cal said. “But I’m having a hard time looking past the lurking and the lunging.”

  “So, if we were able to determine why Nik is attacking me and put a stop to it, you would be OK with me dating him?”

  There was a long moment of silence above my head, making me look up at my brother-in-law. He was chewing on his lip and had a spacey trying-to-do-long-division-in-his-head expression on his face.

  “Cal?”

  “I’m trying to find a way to answer that question that won’t result in you chasing after a ‘cure’ for Nik’s condition or Iris being upset with me for letting you date a man hundreds of years your senior.”

  I squirmed guiltily in his arms, because I was already chasing after a cure for Nik, and Iris was going to be upset with Cal any way he answered the question. I felt another pair of arms sliding around my waist and Iris’s head settling against my shoulder.

  “Oh, good, we’re hugging again.” She sighed. “I ­really hate it when we disagree, Gigi. And unlike Cal, I will apologize for making you unhappy. I’ve just been responsible for you for so long I’m having a hard time adjusting to the idea that you’ve grown up.”

  I turned my head and kissed Iris’s forehead. “It’s OK, Iris. I love you, too.” Both vampires squeezed me simultaneously, which was enough to make me wheeze and cough. “Ribs cracking!”

&
nbsp; Iris sprang back while Cal raised his arms. I finally got a good look at Iris’s apricot-colored sheath dress and her sky-high Iron Fist heels imprinted with little peaches and skulls. It was a far cry from the sensible, stain-proof outfits she’d worn as a human. “Wow, you look hot, Iris! And that’s ‘hawt’ with a ‘w,’ like the young people are saying these days.”

  Iris preened while Cal gave a low whistle. “Well, you don’t have to sound so surprised.”

  “I’m not. I’m wondering if I would finally have the coordination and ankle strength required to wear platform heels if I get turned.”

  “Don’t even joke about that, Geeg.”

  “I’m just saying. My shoe collection could use some perking up.”

  “I will buy you some wedges,” Iris told me. “You could always come with us tonight, you know.”

  “Because me joining you on your date night isn’t pathetic or counterproductive at all. You’ve had these plans for a week,” I told her. “Just go. I am going to take a bath, indulge in total control over the TV, and catch up on some sleep. These night hours are really getting to me.”

  Iris made a motherly clucking noise, cupping her hands under my chin so she could check for dark circles under my eyes. “Poor thing. Well, enjoy your vegging. I have lip gloss to apply.”

  She strolled across the slick polished floor with far more grace than I could imagine in my lifetime. Cal, I noticed, was watching her, too, but in a lecherous manner. I slapped his chest. “Dude. That’s my sister.”

  He scoffed. “That’s my wife. I get to ogle; it was in the vows.”

  I shuddered. “Gross.”

  • • •

  I stood at the door and waved as Iris and Cal pulled out of the driveway. The moon shone brightly over the gardens, casting long, eerie shadows through the flowers. My phone beeped from my purse. I locked the door and armed the security system before grabbing it. I had a text notification from a number I didn’t recognize. Hope you have a nice weekend. Big plans?