by Lynsay Sands
She glanced up with surprise on hearing her name and then stilled, her eyes widening incredulously as she gaped at the giant on the other side of the bar. Six-foot-seven with a twelve-inch green Mohawk that took him to seven-foot-seven, the man was as wide as a linebacker with his padding on, and awash in tattoos and piercings. G.G. She’d encountered him many times at The Night Club back in London, an establishment that, like this one, was geared toward immortals and had a doorman who usually steered mortals away. It was a place for her kind to relax and enjoy blood-based mixed drinks in the company of other immortals. Her parents had taken her and her sisters to The Night Club in London to celebrate special occasions like birthdays, graduation, etc., but Elspeth had also been there many times on her own while at university. G.G. had always manned the door, and had always been very nice to her. He’d often even joined her inside and chatted with her about life and such on her visits.
“G.G.,” she breathed with amazement. “What are you doing here?”
“I own the place now,” he said with pride.
“Really? How? Why?” she asked with amazement. “Did you sell The Night Club in London?”
G.G. shook his head. “I still own it, and I’ve done well there. So when Lucern called up saying he was interested in selling The Night Club here, I jumped at it.”
“Wait a minute. Lucern owned this place?” she asked with confusion. “My cousin, Lucern Argeneau?”
G.G. chuckled at her expression, but nodded.
“I had no idea,” Elspeth admitted, her eyes wide.
“I guess no one knew,” G.G. said with a shrug. “I gather he was afraid certain relatives might take advantage if they knew he was the owner.”
Amusement curved Elspeth’s lips. “I can see that. Thomas probably would have before he met Inez. If for no other reason than that it would have annoyed Lucern.”
“I suspect he was more concerned about Jean Claude than anyone else,” G.G. said quietly.
“Oh, yes,” Elspeth said, frowning as she thought of her now dead uncle. There was nothing more unpleasant than an immortal with a drinking problem, unless it was one with a drinking problem who was mean as a snake after consuming a drunk’s blood. Although, to be fair, Jean Claude had been mean as a snake when sober too. Pushing thoughts of that unpleasant man away, she forced a smile and said, “So you bought it, but still own The Night Club in London too?”
G.G. nodded again. “I like London. But this is a good investment. Besides, my parents will soon have to move out of London again for that whole ‘decade thing’ you immortals got going on, to keep mortals from noticing you aren’t aging, and they were talking about Canada as a possible destination for the next ten years, so this seemed fortuitous. I can travel back and forth between England and Canada, keep an eye on both places, and visit my parents while doing it whether they’re there or here. It’s all good.”
“Yes,” Elspeth agreed with a nod, and then shook her head and said, “I can’t believe Lucern owned it. He isn’t The Night Club type.”
“It was one of his investments,” G.G. said with a shrug. “But now that he and Kate are going to start a family, he’s decided to divest himself of some of his businesses. This is one he felt needed more time than he might have in the near future.”
“He and Kate are pregnant?” she asked with amazement. Good Lord, the man knew more about her family than she did.
“Not yet,” he said at once. “But Kate is retiring from Roundhouse Publishing later this year and they’re going to start trying for a baby then.”
“Oh.” Elspeth nodded, not surprised to hear Kate was retiring. She’d worked at Roundhouse when she’d met Lucern and been turned, and it had been more than the usual ten years since then. It was time for her to move on. Otherwise she risked someone picking up on the fact that she wasn’t aging.
“So, I’d heard you’d moved here to Canada,” G.G. said with a grin. “Good for you. I think getting away from your mother will be good for you.”
“You heard?” Elspeth asked with amazement. She hadn’t told him. She hadn’t been to The Night Club in London the last four years. Not since the family had moved out of London for the family home in York. But she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised he knew about her move. The immortal grapevine was faster and more efficient than the mortal grape vine. Everyone seemed to know everyone’s business.
“Yes, Lissianna and Jeanne Louise came in a few weeks ago for a girls’ night and invited me to sit with them to catch up on things. They mentioned it, and were planning to drag you out with them on their next girls’ night. They said you were busy getting settled in and they’d bring you next time.”
“Oh,” Elspeth smiled. Lissianna had invited her out about three weeks ago, but she’d been expecting her furniture to be delivered, and after three weeks living in a mostly empty apartment, she hadn’t wanted to reschedule. Lissianna had offered to change the outing date but Elspeth hadn’t wanted to disrupt her plans and had said no. She’d join them next time. And she would . . . if her mother didn’t try to prevent it, she thought unhappily, and then glanced to her purse with a frown as her phone began to ring. Sliding the leather bag off her shoulder, she set it on the bar and quickly dug out her phone. She wasn’t surprised to see Mother listed as the caller. She’d been out of Martine’s sight for half an hour. Of course she’d call.
Elspeth hit Decline, then dropped her phone back in her purse and glanced up to see G.G.’s raised eyebrows. He’d obviously noted who the caller was. Forcing a smile, she tried to steer his thoughts away from the call.
“So,” she said brightly, “you work the bar here instead of the door?”
G.G. shook his head. “No, I work the door here too . . . when we’re open.”
Elspeth blinked at him with confusion, and then turned to peer around the club. She was the only person there. The Night Club had other rooms, of course, but she suddenly suspected they were probably empty too as she realized it was just a little after seven. The sun was still up and would be for at least another hour. The Night Club was only for immortals, and so was run differently than your average bar or nightclub. For one thing, it was only open from sunset to sunrise. Everyone knew that.
“Oh, crap,” she muttered and turned back to G.G. with dismay. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine,” G.G. said with good humor. “My own fault. The phone was ringing when I came in and I rushed to answer it and forgot to go back and lock the door.”
“Yes, but I know the club’s hours. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that when I headed here.” She began scrambling through her purse for her wallet. “You should have just sent me on my way. I just—Why on earth did you give me my drinks?”
“Because you were pale as death and looked like you needed the blood,” he said quietly. “And you don’t look much better after just the one glass, so stop fussing with your wallet and drink. You can pay me after.”
“Thank you,” she said with a sigh, and set her wallet down so that she could pick up the glass of blood and take a long swallow.
“Rough day?” G.G. asked, leaning his arms on the counter and offering her a sympathetic smile.
“The worst,” Elspeth admitted with a grimace. “I got home this morning to find Mother and my sisters had decided on a surprise visit. They were already in bed. Mom in the guest room and the twins in my bed,” she added with disgust.
“Pretty presumptuous of them,” G.G. commented.
“I know, right?” she said, glad to have the support.
“Did you kick them out of your apartment?” he asked.
“No, but I kicked the twins out of my bed. Made them sleep on the air mattress in the living room. They weren’t too happy about it, though, and drank me out of blood before I got up.”
“Punishing you,” he said with a nod.
“Yeah, but hell, I don’t know what they have to be angry about. They’re the selfish twits who couldn’t last two months alone with Mother and dragged her
over here. Now they all might be moving here. Plus Dad,” she added as an afterthought. “Although I don’t mind Dad. He’s great, and Mother behaves a little better when he’s around. Problem is, he’s always off running his ‘empire.’”
“Hmm,” G.G. murmured. “So, you moved here to get away from your mother, and now she’s moving here.”
“Worse than that, Mother told Mortimer this morning that she was going to be a hunter and work with me. I’ll have her hovering over me all damned night every night.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” G.G. said with confusion. “Lissianna said you got a position at the university, teaching criminology.”
“I did,” she said on a sigh. “But it doesn’t start until the summer, and even then, it’s a part-time gig. I’ve been volunteering at the Enforcer House, helping to sort through all the tips they get to see what might be real threats and what aren’t. I wanted to see if I like it, and if I do, maybe I can work there officially in the future. At least part-time. And I do like it. At least, I did, but now . . .”
“But now if you do work for the enforcers, you’ll have your mother working with you,” he said with understanding.
“Yeah.” Elspeth sighed the word and then shook her head. “It’s my own fault. I should have headed back to the Enforcer House when I got stabbed this morning rather than go home. She never would have known I was working for them if I had,” she said, and then frowned and argued her own point. “But it’s not like I knew they were at the apartment, so why would I?”
“Wait, wait, wait,” G.G. said with amazement. “You got stabbed this morning?”
Grimacing, Elspeth nodded. “I stopped to check out a soft call on my way home and a mortal stabbed me in the back and slashed my leg.”
Much to her surprise, that made him throw back his head and laugh loudly.
Elspeth stared at him wide-eyed, noting a little absently how the green strands of his Mohawk caught the bar lights as his head bobbed with laughter. Finally she scowled and asked, “What’s so funny about my getting stabbed?”
“Oh,” he gasped, and shook his head. Making an obvious effort to control his amusement, he waved his hand and finally got out, “No, not your getting stabbed. That’s not funny at all, but the fact that you got stabbed this morning and didn’t include it as part of why today was your worst day ever is.”
Elspeth blinked, and then sagged where she sat as she understood. He was right. She hadn’t even considered the stabbing as part of her rough day. In comparison to the appearance of her mother in her new home, getting stabbed was like a pesky paper cut. Frankly, she’d rather be stabbed every day of her life than have her mother back ruling her.
“I knew that was blood on your car seat.”
Elspeth swiveled sharply and gaped at the man standing beside her. Wyatt. How the heck had he snuck up on them like that? They should have heard the door open at the very least. Well, unless he entered while G.G. was laughing so uproariously at her misadventures. He must have, she realized and asked, “What are you doing here?”
“Forget that,” he said, waving his hand impatiently. “You were stabbed this morning?”
Elspeth gaped at him briefly, and then sighed and narrowed her gaze as she concentrated on sending her thoughts out to search his mind, take control and—Whoa! What the hell? Her thoughts were crashing up against a black wall of nothing. Mouth tightening, she redoubled her efforts with the same results.
“Elspeth?” Wyatt said, frowning now as well. “Answer me. Were you stabbed this morning?”
“It was nothing,” she muttered and slipped off her stool. Mortals weren’t really welcome at The Night Club. She had to get him out of there. Casting a regretful glance at her drink, she picked up her wallet and quickly pulled out money, saying, “Thanks, G.G. We’ll go now.”
“Finish your drink,” both men said at once, and Elspeth glanced from one to the other with surprise. G.G. was looking stern and insistent. He knew she needed the blood and felt she should drink it before she left. Wyatt just looked kind of annoyed. She had no idea why.
“Finish it,” Wyatt repeated. “You had to rush off to have it, so finish it. In fact, I’ll have a drink too. A beer,” he decided, settling on the neighboring stool. “Because I want to hear about this getting stabbed business where Gran can’t overhear and be upset.”
Elspeth hesitated, but then said, “Fine. But we’ll have to go somewhere else. The club isn’t open yet. Besides, they don’t serve alcohol here.”
“What? A nightclub that doesn’t serve alcohol?” he asked with open disbelief.
“The Night Club is just the name,” she said on a sigh. “It’s not a real nightclub. At least, not like your normal nightclub. It’s more like a coffee shop. A place where people can gather, relax, and drink . . .”
“Power drinks,” G.G. said when she floundered.
“Power drinks,” Wyatt echoed with disbelief and shook his head. “A nightclub that serves power drinks instead of alcohol.”
“Yes,” Elspeth said, casting G.G. a grateful look.
“Damn hipsters are ruining everything,” Wyatt muttered, and then glanced at her glass. “What’s that, then? I thought it must be a Bloody Mary, but the color isn’t quite right, and if they only serve power drinks, it—”
“It’s beet juice, tomatoes, kale, spinach, kelp, and a bunch of other disgusting things I wouldn’t drink if you paid me,” G.G. lied glibly, interrupting him.
“You just sling the drinks and don’t consume them yourself, huh?” Wyatt asked with amusement, his mood suddenly lightening . . . although, she wasn’t sure why. Had he worried his grandmother had rented to a lush?
“Pretty much,” G.G. said solemnly. “Elspeth’s right, we aren’t open yet, but she needs a few more power drinks to help her heal, so I’ll mix you up a power drink too if you like. Or I keep some soft drinks here for myself. Some Coke, ginger ale, maybe some root beer. What’ll it be? A power drink or—?”
“A Coke,” Wyatt said firmly. “Thanks.”
Nodding, G.G. grabbed a glass, threw some ice in it and then retrieved a can of Coke from the refrigerator under the counter and poured it as he carried it back to them. He set it in front of Wyatt, and then nodded at Elspeth’s drink.
“Knock it back and I’ll get you another, Elspeth. You obviously lost a lot of blood this morning and need it,” he said, his tone brooking no argument.
Grimacing, she did as he instructed. The moment she set the empty glass down, G.G. whisked it away and moved off to prepare another . . . at the other end of the bar. He was being careful that Wyatt not see what he was working with, she realized, and glanced nervously toward the windows to see that the day was waning, but slowly. Still, other immortals would start arriving the moment the sun was gone and then Wyatt’s presence would be a problem.
“Who stabbed you and where?”
Wyatt’s question drew her attention back to him and she grimaced. “It was during work. I was checking out a tip and encountered a mentally ill man. He attacked his wife and then stabbed me when I rushed to help her.”
“I meant where on your person were you stabbed?” he said grimly. “There was blood on your car seat.”
“Oh.” She grimaced, but admitted, “He stabbed me in the lower left side of my back, and slashed my left leg.”
His gaze immediately slid to her side, but of course he couldn’t see anything through her clothes and jacket. Even if she’d been sitting there naked there wouldn’t have been much to see. When she’d got up that evening the wound had healed to the point that it was a large, dark, ugly scar. She’d needed more blood for the healing to continue. Elspeth could feel it happening again now that she’d had more blood. It was like someone was repeatedly jabbing her with a handful of needles in the spot. Most unpleasant, and she was holding herself very still to try to keep from flinching or otherwise give away that she was in pain.
“And you aren’t in the hospital because . . . ?” he asked dryly.
&
nbsp; “Because it was just a flesh wound, a scratch, really,” she lied. Actually, it had been pretty bad. Were she mortal she would have bled out within minutes. Fortunately, she wasn’t mortal.
Elspeth glanced at Wyatt and saw that he was shaking his head. Scowling, she asked, “What?”
“I didn’t realize your job was so dangerous,” he admitted, his gaze on his glass as he turned it on the countertop. “Gran made it sound like your position was mostly analytical. A desk job.”
“It is,” Elspeth said, and glanced toward G.G., wishing he’d hurry. The sooner she finished this next drink, the sooner she could get Wyatt out of there. It would have been easier if she could have slipped into his thoughts, rearranged them, and sent him back to his grandmother’s without recalling any of this, though. That idea made her turn to peer at him again to try to do just that. Nothing. She just kept coming up against a black wall of nothing. Either the man was brain dead, or—
Elspeth shied away from the “or” and smiled in gratitude at G.G. as he returned with her blood. Aware of the man beside her and the time crunch, Elspeth downed half of it at once, careful not to come away with a blood mustache afterward.
“But you got stabbed,” Wyatt pointed out. “How did you get stabbed working a desk job?”
“There are some days when stuff happens and I end up going out on calls. This morning was one of those days,” Elspeth said vaguely, and cast a pleading glance G.G.’s way, hoping he’d change the subject. He did. Just not to a subject she liked any better.
“So, what are you going to do about your mother?” he asked abruptly.
“Her mother?” Wyatt asked G.G. with interest and then turned to Elspeth. “What about your mother?”
“Nothing. She’s just a little overprotective,” she said firmly, and scowled at G.G. as she picked up her drink.
“Martine is more than a little overprotective,” G.G. told Wyatt as Elspeth drank. Apparently, he hadn’t got the silent message behind the scowl, she decided as he went on, “She’s a control freak and almost obsessive-compulsive about keeping her daughters near her. They’ve all led very sheltered lives.”