Dark Wine at Midnight (A Hill Vampire Novel Book 1)

by Jenna Barwin

  “Ari, I’m not some nervous virgin.” No, not a virgin, but nervous—that was a definite yes. Pretending to be mortal was easy—until she was alone in bed with a man. Not that she’d ever tell Ari that. “I just don’t think flirting will work with Henry. I tried already.”

  “You got to do something, kiddo. For now, smile at him a lot and flutter your eyelashes,” Ari said with a laugh. A woman came into view, slipping an arm over his shoulder and kissing his cheek. “Not now, cute stuff. I’m on the phone.” The woman’s hand dipped below the bar’s counter. “Later,” he said, moving the wayward hand back into view. “Go get us a table by the band.”

  “Sure, Ducky.”

  “Ducky?” Cerissa repeated.

  “Never mind. I’m in London for the night.”

  So being in a bar at ten in the morning had a logical explanation—the time zone difference.

  “Now, where was I?” he asked, his eyes glancing in the direction of the ceiling. “Right. Maybe we shouldn’t tell the Protectors about this until we see what Henry does.”

  “He won’t say anything.”

  “Hmm,” he murmured. “Okay, here’s what you’ll do—go back to charming them, him in particular.”

  Yeah, right. She had been using her charm judiciously until last night. Unlike Ari, she didn’t throw it around indiscriminately. The consequences could be unpredictable. Last night had been the exception—she’d had to do something to turn Henry around.

  “Keep sending your videos directly to me,” Ari continued. “I’ll edit your confession, tag the end to make it look like you clicked off your lenses—it’s a good thing you don’t wear them all the time. The Protectors will never know about your conversation with Henry.”

  “Are you sure we should keep it from them?”

  “Trust me, it’s better that we keep this between us.”

  “Ah, I have a feeling he’s going to have more questions.” She couldn’t edit her own videos. To keep field operatives from messing with the data, only supervisors could access editing codes.

  Ari nodded. “When he starts to talk about us, turn off your lenses. I’ll clean up the ends and take care of the rest.”

  “Thanks Ari,” she said, sighing.

  “Look, I gotta run.” He flashed a roguish grin. “My date is eager.”

  The 3-D video of him vanished.

  She flopped on the bed and scooped up the phone, then tossed it onto the bedside table next to her watch, grateful Henry had returned both items. Getting to and from the Enclave would be near impossible if she didn’t have her watch and the flash technology built into it. She had no reason to use it now; she trusted Henry even if Ari didn’t.

  She slid off the bed, snatched up her injector, and went into the bathroom, turning on the faucet to fill the bathtub. The Protectors could be a real pain in the ass sometimes. A soothing bath wouldn’t solve her problems, but it might make her feel better. She unwrapped the gauze—the surface skin, puckered red around the stitches, looked okay. She flexed her arm. The muscle underneath had completely healed.

  She looked at herself in the mirror—her shoulders were hunched over, her neck tight, her skin constricted. Was she edgy because of Ari’s call, or because she’d stayed human too long? More stabilizer would keep her locked in human form for the day, but it wasn’t healthy to use too much of it. She dialed in the antidote and applied the injector to her thigh. Looking closely at her reflection in the mirror, she carefully mapped her wound’s appearance so she could reproduce it, and slowly allowed herself to morph back to her Lux form.

  In the mirror, her long hair became the color and texture of raw silk, her skin a translucent blue. Turning around, she glanced over her shoulder, seeing the reflection of her long, feathered wings, which ended at the back of her knees, softer than a bird’s and more elegant, the same pale color as her hair. She anxiously fluttered the tips. Were her wings really at risk? She’d only had them for ten years. There were rumors of what became of the Lux who were stripped of their wings, dark rumors, rumors she had avoided listening to while still karabu.

  Karabu—the second stage, the one after childhood. Things were simpler then. During her two hundred years of being karabu she was sporadically “fostered” with human families to grow accustomed to being around humans. Mimicking a human teen had been hard work for a mentally mature being. She preferred living in the Enclave, where she could be herself with her friends and use Lux technology to run her science experiments. Of course, her nest mates gossiped about the Protectors in the same way military privates gossiped about generals—quietly but with great relish.

  Once she had metamorphosed to principatus, she had the body mass to mimic a full-grown mortal, and attended medical school to earn the credentials she needed to pass as a doctor and research scientist—not that she attended many classes. She was so far ahead of human knowledge that the lectures were borr-ring. But medical school gave her an opportunity to practice being an adult.

  She fluttered her wings again. Did she really want to live on the Hill? Last night, she’d admitted the truth to herself. She didn’t want to live with mortals and watch them die so young. Being around vampires bothered her less than it did six months ago; she was even growing accustomed to their creepy, predatory vibe. Given the choice, she wanted her home in a vampire community, where they lived as long as she did. Especially if it meant she could work independently from the Lux in her own lab.

  But not if the price for staying here is Henry’s death. Ari was right. The easiest way to ensure their secret would be to kill him, but she couldn’t do it.

  Sighing, she morphed back to human form, right down to the stitches in her arm, and stepped into the bathtub. After turning off the faucet, she slipped into the warm water and relaxed back against the bath pillow. The morning light, filtered through an obscured window, illuminated a collection of bottles next to the tub. She picked up a bronze-colored body wash and opened the cap. Citrus, with a hint of cloves and other spices, similar to Henry’s cologne—it probably wouldn’t upset his sensitive nose or it wouldn’t be here.

  She didn’t bother washing her hair. Morphing from Lux to human had returned it to its pristine state. After she bathed, she found her overnight bag on the floor near her jeans. Gaea must have brought it with her last night. She slipped into a casual dress with matching sandals and then rebandaged her arm, examining it in the mirror. Not a bad job, considering she had to wrap the bandages one-handed and with only one thumb.

  A knock at the door startled her—it couldn’t be Henry, not yet. She opened the door and Karen stood there, looking like she just woke up. “How’re you feeling?” Karen asked.

  “Sore but not intolerable—I just finished bathing and dressing.”

  “Well, you’re a few steps ahead of me,” Karen said, followed by a big yawn.

  “Let’s go downstairs. I’ll keep you company while you eat breakfast.”

  * * *

  Cerissa perched herself on a high chair at the kitchen island. Karen set out two slices of bread, opened a container of chicken salad, and slathered on a generous layer.

  “I’m surprised you’re out of bed,” Karen said. “You’re looking better, but you should rest.”

  “I still feel weak,” Cerissa agreed, feeling guilty over hiding the truth. She liked Karen and hadn’t used her charm to influence her. Besides, repetitively using her aura on someone came with too much risk—the people we charm, charm us. She couldn’t afford to become enamored with anyone, except maybe Candy. She’d used a little of her charm on the horse—it was why Candy had been so protective.

  The chicken salad smelled good, so she asked Karen to make a sandwich for her. Karen obliged and suggested they take the plates upstairs to Henry’s theater room and watch a movie.

  They took a break between movies so Karen could shower and dress. The second movie was almost over when Cerissa heard Henry coming up the stairs. She glanced at her watch—it was too early. The sun hadn’t set yet.
Karen answered her unasked question. “Early moonrise tonight.”

  Cerissa chewed on her lower lip, a sense of unease creeping over her.

  Karen laid a reassuring hand on her leg. “It’s okay that we’re in here,” she said, adding, with a mischievous smirk, “Don’t worry, he won’t bite.”

  That wasn’t what bothered her right now.

  Karen grabbed the remote and paused the movie. “We’re in here,” she called out from the doorway.

  Henry joined them, looking classically stylish in casual black slacks with a royal-blue polo shirt. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

  Cerissa sent a wisp of her aura in his direction.

  “You’re looking better,” he said. “Karen must have taken good care of you during the day.”

  “You bet I did,” Karen replied. “Mostly we lounged around up here. A nice, relaxing, easygoing day. Just what the doctor ordered.”

  His eyes remained directed at Cerissa. “It’s good to see you’re out of bed, but I hope you’re not overdoing it.”

  “I’m all right.”

  “That’s good to hear. I’m glad you didn’t leave.” Karen looked at him with a puzzled expression, and he quickly added, “To go to the hospital.”

  “No reason to,” Cerissa replied. “Thank you for letting me stay here.”

  “My pleasure,” he said, inclining his head.

  Talk about subtext. She sighed, relieved he was still willing to keep her secret. She stretched out her legs, crossing them at the ankle.

  “You look lovely in that dress,” he added.

  She laughed. “That’s nice of you to say. It’s the only one Gaea packed.”

  “It doesn’t make it any less true.” He smiled at her, and this time the smile reached his deep browns. “Have you two ladies had dinner yet?”

  Karen looked surprised to have a question include her. “Ah, no. We forgot about the time. I usually eat before Rolf gets up. He hates being around food.”

  “That isn’t a problem in this house. I would be pleased to cook for the both of you.”

  Karen’s face brightened. “Cerissa, don’t turn down his offer. Henry is quite the chef.”

  She smiled tentatively. “I accept your kind offer of dinner.”

  “Please finish your movie,” he said with bow, “and join me in the kitchen when it’s over.”

  He left the room, and she relaxed back into the couch. His attitude had changed since last night, but then, he had mellowed toward the end. Using her aura on him seemed unfair—still, it was fairer than what the Protectors would do to him if they found out.

  Karen cleared her throat. “So what happened after I went to sleep?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Cerissa pulled her eyes away from the empty doorway to look at Karen.

  “It doesn’t take a scorecard to see you two are doing a barnyard dance.”

  “Beg pardon?”

  “You two are flirting with each other. Henry’s a courteous host, but all the stuff about your charming dress and cooking for us was not aimed at me.”

  So maybe Ari was right: a little harmless flirting might keep Henry on her side. “Nothing happened,” Cerissa replied.

  “Yeah, like I believe that.”

  “He thinks I saved his life. He’s just showing his gratitude.”

  Karen shook her head. “That isn’t gratitude showing. But do be careful.”

  “I appreciate your concern, but I’m not interested in a mate.”

  “Sure, if you say so.” Karen’s tone managed to convey her disbelief that any woman would pass up the chance to find a boyfriend. “How’s your arm feeling now?”

  “It’s not too bad, as long as I don’t try to use it.” Cerissa flexed it. “I haven’t taken any painkillers today. I don’t like them. They dull my thinking.”

  Only too true—otherwise she wouldn’t have told Henry what she was. What a stupid mistake! But Karen was right—he was being nice. Will he really keep my secret? Or will I have to seduce him? She cringed—seducing him to buy his silence didn’t feel right.

  “Are you okay?” Karen asked.

  “What? I mean, yes, just hungry.” Wonderful aromas had begun wafting their way. “We should go downstairs soon.”

  “Let’s not rush the chef,” Karen said, unpausing the movie. “There’s only a little bit left.”

  It wasn’t the movie she wanted, it was Henry’s reassurance. Get over it, kid, she berated herself, hearing Ari’s voice in her head. You don’t need Henry holding your hand, promising to keep your secret safe. You need to hold his hand and lay on the charm.

  She scratched at her bandages, the tightness around the stitches beginning to itch. Fake it till you make it, Ari used to tell her. She hated faking it—always hiding her true nature from the people she befriended. Fake everything and don’t let anyone in. She didn’t want to fake it anymore, and if Henry kept her secret, she wouldn’t need to. I can just be me around him. The thought sparkled brightly in her mind, like a lovely diamond necklace, one just begging to be worn. She’d never had the chance to be with someone like Henry without having to pretend she was mortal. A long-buried desire rose, tempting her to reach out and slip on those diamonds, ignoring the price tag the necklace came with.

  Chapter 25

  “Wow, this is good,” Cerissa said, after biting into the arroz con pollo. Henry had done something wonderful with rice and chicken—the rice was fragrant with saffron, and the bite-size pieces of shredded chicken were intermingled with onions, bell peppers, carrots, and peas. How did someone who hadn’t eaten food in almost two centuries know how to cook so well?

  The kitchen table had been set for two, right down to woven place mats and cloth napkins. He poured a Cabernet Sauvignon from his winery into two gold-rimmed wineglasses and set them in front of her and Karen.

  She took a sip of the fragrant wine. “Very nice,” she told him.

  He bowed graciously at the compliment and returned to his station by the large center island, where he began cleaning up the trimmings from the vegetables he had cooked into the rice.

  The front door slammed. She jumped out of her chair, her heart taking the express train to the back of her throat. Who was that?

  “Relax,” Karen said with a wink. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s Rolf.”

  Cerissa sat down and took a long drink from her wineglass, her heart still racing. After last night’s shooting, her startle reflex was set too high. Karen patted her arm reassuringly.

  Rolf marched into the kitchen and asked with a snarl, “What is Cerissa still doing here?”

  “She is my guest.” Henry peered close to his partner’s face. “Have you fed?”

  Rolf directed his eyes at the stove, where the leftover chicken with rice sat in a large cooking pot. “I had real work to do,” he scoffed. “Then I drove straight over.”

  Henry removed a bag of blood from the refrigerator and dropped it into a pan of simmering water. He turned off the flame, using tongs to swish the bag back and forth. “Have you heard anything from Tig?” he asked.

  “No, but I spoke with the mayor. He wants to reinstitute the Rule of Two.”

  “That will be inconvenient.” Henry fished the bag out of the water, cut off the corner, and poured the warmed blood into an oversized coffee mug.

  “‘Rule of Two’?” Cerissa asked.

  Rolf scowled at her. “Nothing for you to be concerned about. You’re leaving.”

  She sent a wisp of her aura Rolf’s way. She hadn’t tried using it when they first met at the dance. Maybe a little experiment…

  Henry handed the mug to Rolf. “Drink this. It might make your mood less foul.”

  “My mood isn’t the problem—the problem is having Leopold’s envoy on the Hill.”

  Rolf didn’t take the offered mug. Henry placed it on the center island’s polished granite with a light clink. “Sit down and drink.”

  “Du kannst mich mal.”

  “Rolf, there are ladies
present.”

  Rolf grabbed the coffee mug and stomped out of the room.

  “Excuse me,” Henry said, before following Rolf.

  Well, that didn’t go well. Next time, she’d up the dose of her aura. She leaned over to Karen. “What Rolf said, ‘You can do me sometime’?”

  “You speak German? He told me it means ‘bite me.’” Karen snickered, and then took a sip of her wine. “Don’t let it bother you. He’s just cranky from not feeding yet. Those two fight like a pair of old biddies, and it doesn’t mean anything. Like Oscar and Felix—the Odd Couple, you know?”

  “They’ve been friends for a long time.”

  “Yeah. Sometimes I feel like the third wheel.” Karen glanced hesitantly in the direction the two men had gone. “We should change the subject before Henry comes back.”

  “What does the ‘Rule of Two’ mean?”

  Karen screwed her face into a look of disgust. “A pain in the ass is what it means. It’s an old rule, one they abolished years ago, but if they bring it back, Rolf won’t be able to leave the Hill unless he’s with another vampire.”

  Cerissa didn’t remember reading anything about it in the Covenant. “Does it apply to mortals too, or just vampires?”

  “Shit, I hadn’t considered that.” Karen drained her wineglass. “From what I heard, the council has never applied it to us before. They originally adopted it to prevent ‘unlawful hunting,’ as they call it. Everyone’s been so well behaved, they dropped the rule.”

  Hmm. If vampires couldn’t easily leave the Hill, she’d have more opportunities to pitch her project and gather intelligence. Maybe this was the break she needed. With Henry protecting her secret, she had to get back on track.

  Rolf walked into the kitchen and dropped his empty mug into the sink. He turned to Karen. “If you’re done eating, we’re leaving. Go pack your bag.”

  Henry strode up behind him, carrying a binder. He handed it to Rolf. “Here is the proposal I mentioned. It’s not worth investing in, but you may as well look at it.”

  The proposal’s cover read “Dystopian Wines by Blanche Larson.” Why was he giving it to Rolf if he didn’t like it? He hadn’t asked to see her prospectus. She pursed her lips.