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

by Jenna Barwin

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Gaea said.

  She flipped to the next slide—one new point about Cerissa’s age. “The most surprising part, according to her birth certificate: she’s thirty-two years old.”

  “But she hardly looks twenty,” the mayor said, his bushy eyebrows lifting in unison. “Maybe Leopold has been feeding her his blood. But that’s a long time to groom an envoy.”

  Gaea waved a dismissive finger in the air. “Or there could be another explanation. Cerissa told me her family members are long-lived. She said her great-grandmother is over a hundred and still alive.”

  Tig frowned. Cerissa’s age was irrelevant to her investigation. She pressed the button to bring up the last slide: photos of each of the dead shooters.

  “I haven’t been able to link her or Leopold to the attacks. We should keep a close eye on her, but there’s no evidence she’s involved.” She hit the console button. It raised the lights and turned off the slide projector.

  Gaea sat there tapping her chin for a moment. “There has been one interesting result from the shooting.”

  “What’s that?” Tig asked. So far, Gaea’s reports had been benign.

  “Henry sent Cerissa flowers. And he persuaded Dr. Clarke to release her. Henry isn’t easily fooled—I’ll be watching closely to see what he does.”

  “What about Zeke?” Tig asked.

  “I’ve been concerned about Zeke, too,” Gaea admitted. “There is something about the young woman that makes me want to mother her. Strange, I’ve never thought of myself as the maternal type.”

  The mayor let out a guffaw that shook the table. Tig sat forward, ready to jump between Winston and his maker in the event Gaea took offense.

  Instead, Gaea issued a dismissive sniff in his direction before turning back to Tig. “Chief, you or Winston should talk with the boy, make sure Zeke understands fighting will not be condoned.”

  The mayor gave a brief nod in Tig’s direction. “I’ll take care of it when he returns to the Hill,” she agreed.

  “Are you done discussing Cerissa’s background?” Rolf asked coldly.

  “There’s nothing to connect her with either shooting,” Tig concluded.

  Rolf stood up. “It still brings us back to the initial problem. An unmated mortal has no business being on the Hill. We should reject her project and tell her to move on.”

  “And alienate Leopold?” Gaea asked.

  “I don’t give a damn about Leopold, and neither does Frédéric. Put it to a vote. Frédéric will back me on this.”

  “Perhaps,” Gaea replied, “but if we’re counting votes, I doubt Carolyn and Liza will agree with you. Liza likes Cerissa, and Carolyn wants more information about the project.”

  “Let’s stop right there,” Marcus said quickly. “Sharing the positions of other council members in a non-public meeting violates state law.”

  “Fuck state law.” Rolf pointed at the mayor. “You’re stupid to let her stay.”

  “Watch your manners, young man,” Gaea snapped.

  The mayor held up this hand for silence. “From what I understand, Cerissa is shopping for a sizeable property to develop. If she locates the project on our side of the freeway, it’ll mean a two percent increase in the town’s tax base. I’ve run the figures. Between property taxes, business license fees, and the like, we’ll net a sizeable amount for our town’s coffers.”

  Tig kept her eyes on Rolf—he looked like a cartoon character about to explode. Ramrod straight, he clenched his jaw, the muscles at the joint bulging out. “We—don’t—need—the—money,” he said, enunciating each word loudly.

  The mayor drummed his fingers on the table impatiently. “Easy for you to say, but the town needs certain infrastructure improvements. We’ve put them off for too long. No one—including you—has wanted to approve a special assessment to fix the old sewer system. Leopold’s project could pay for those improvements in development fees. It’s a win-win for us.”

  “Or we get made fools of.” Rolf leaned across the table toward the mayor. “There may not be a project. Leopold may have other designs on the Hill. In the meantime, you’ve given his operative free rein.”

  “Rolf, you’re being paranoid,” Gaea said. “The more I’m around Cerissa, the more I’m convinced—she’s here to build her biotech business. It’s all she talks about.”

  “Indeed,” the mayor said, nodding his agreement with Gaea. “We should be doing everything to make her feel truly welcomed so she locates the project within our town’s boundaries and not in Mordida. That way, we get the tax benefit.”

  Rolf scowled. “Not if it means having an unmated mortal in our backyard. The risk is intolerable—she could let what we are slip out.”

  “Your fears aren’t grounded in reality,” the mayor said. “She’s an envoy. She knows what would happen to her if she spilled the beans.”

  Rolf pressed his hands flat on the table, turning his fingers even whiter from the pressure he applied. “We should tell her we’re not interested and send her on her way. Now.”

  “That’s not a decision for this subcommittee to make,” the mayor said. “It’s a decision for the full council.”

  “Then put it on the agenda!” Rolf shouted.

  “In due time, Rolf,” the mayor said with a smirk. “In due time.”

  Tig smiled as well. It was nice to see Rolf get trounced by Winston. Rolf could be so full of himself sometimes. Letting some of the air out of his inflated ego would make it easier to work with him.

  “Are we interrupting?” Yacov stood at the conference room door with Father Matt and two mortals behind him—Haley Spears and Nicholas Martin. Yacov pulled out a pocket watch and clicked it open. “I thought we had the room at nine.”

  “You do,” the mayor said, not looking happy about it. “We were just wrapping up.”

  Rolf narrowed his eyes at them. “And why do you need the room?”

  Haley slipped past Yacov. “Committee on Mortal Rights,” she replied, crossing her arms.

  “You’re fucking kidding me,” Rolf shouted, his eyes fixed in the mayor’s direction. “You appointed a committee? I thought your announcement was bullshit to placate them.”

  The mayor shrugged. “It’s just an exploratory committee.”

  “Yeah, and we’re exploring how to get Rolf’s ass off the council,” Haley muttered.

  Tig heard it. Hell, every vampire in the room heard it, and Haley had done it on purpose. Rumors of Rolf’s proposal to apply the Rule of Two to mortals had zipped through the Hill with lightning speed, making the already tense community even tenser. Rolf started to sputter again when Gaea pointed a finger at him. It stopped any further argument. “We’re done here,” Gaea said. “Let’s give these nice people a chance to meet.”

  Tig’s phone buzzed—a text message from Jayden. He was back from San Diego, home and waiting for her. Naked. In bed. She clipped the phone to her belt.

  “Is there a problem, my dear?” Gaea asked.

  “Nothing serious, but I need to handle it myself,” Tig replied, sliding past Yacov and his group to leave the conference room. She smiled to herself, picturing Jayden in the buff. Yes indeed—this matter needed her personal touch.

  Chapter 34

  Gaea’s house—ten o’clock the same evening

  Cerissa waited for Henry by Gaea’s driveway, wearing jeans and a leather jacket, with her purse and a special bag slung over her shoulder. He pulled up riding a large, sleek-looking motorcycle, mostly black, with a silver and red blaze outlining the bike’s gas tank.

  So that’s why his text told me what to wear.

  She could scratch “control freak” off her list of concerns.

  He took a backpack off his shoulders, reached in, and pulled out a helmet, handing it to her before tossing the backpack onto the white garden bench. His leather jacket and black helmet looked good on him. He lifted the faceplate. “I hope you’re not afraid of motorcycles.”

  “Not in the leas
t, but I’ve never been on one.”

  “It’s simple. You wear your helmet, sit behind me, and hang on to my waist.”

  The way his ponytail stuck out from underneath his helmet looked cute. He probably wore a helmet in case there was an accident—hard to explain healing from severe brain trauma.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “My winery. I have to test the recent wine production. We will be alone and can talk in private.”

  “No one is going with us?” She slipped on her helmet. Gaea had told her the Rule of Two had been passed by the council during her convalescence—but so far, it applied only to vampires.

  “We don’t need an escort for the winery. The Rule of Two doesn’t apply as long as we are within Sierra Escondida’s boundaries.”

  She started to pick up the empty backpack he’d left on the garden bench.

  “Leave it,” he said. “I’ll get it when we return.”

  She swung her leg over the bike’s seat and sat behind him, wrapping her arms around his firm waist as instructed. She dialed her aura back to a wisp of charm, which was easier to do when she felt at ease. She didn’t want to make him suspicious again by flooding him with good feelings, and she didn’t want to be overwhelmed by its reciprocal effects, either. He pushed the ignition button and put the motorcycle into gear. Once on the road, he asked how she was doing.

  “I like it. It’s like flying.”

  “Do you want to go faster?”

  “Yes, faster,” she shouted over the noise of the engine.

  He kicked it up a notch. The rows of twisted grapevines zoomed past her in the darkness, ghostly pale shoots sprouting from woody trunks. She leaned into him, her inner thighs squeezing his tight butt—for support, of course.

  She wanted to rub her cheek against his back the way a cat does, but the helmet stopped her. She was happy, happy to be free from her room at Gaea’s, happy to be in his presence, even happy to be snuggled up against him.

  He slowed down at the gate, waved at the guards, and then sped up again after passing the Hill’s wall. She held on tighter as he accelerated, pressing against his muscular back, losing herself in the rush of speed and the motorcycle’s vibrations.

  He turned onto the back streets of the business district, the buildings dark and closed for the night. He swerved into the winery’s driveway and circled the parking lot to the back. By the time he stopped the bike, a giddy excitement spun through her.

  What’s happening to me? I’m supposed to seduce him, not the other way around. She stepped off the bike a little too fast and stumbled.

  He caught her by the arm and smiled knowingly at her. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “I guess I misjudged the distance to the ground,” she lied, mortified he may have sensed her arousal.

  He gently released her and swung off the bike in one graceful, powerful motion. Soft floodlights illuminated the empty lot. She removed her helmet and placed it on the seat next to his. Taking a comb from her back pocket, she ran it through her wavy hair. When he did the same thing, she smiled at him.

  “I like your hair long,” she said. “It looks good on you, especially when you wear it loose.”

  His eyes sparkled, like he was pleased by her comment. “I hope you don’t mind if I wear it back for our winetasting,” he said, retying it.

  She looked away, self-conscious under his intense gaze. His hand touched her back, guiding her toward a trellis-covered walkway, grapevines twined around the open slats. The walkway led to a large, plain stucco building at the back of the winery. She waited while Henry unlocked the door.

  “After you,” he said with a sweep of his hand.

  Inside the winery, she rubbed her arms against the chilliness, feeling it in spite of her leather jacket. Was it artificial refrigeration or the design of the building? Either way, the concrete walls held the cold in well, and she morphed the layer below her skin, thickening it to increase her resistance to the cool air. He’d never notice the change.

  He led her through the wine production rooms and down a flight of stairs into an even colder basement. “I’m here tonight to check how the wines are aging,” he said. “During the day, the assistant winemaker supervises our employees.”

  “When we first met, you said you were the winemaker. I didn’t realize you meant it literally.”

  “I’ve been making wines for over a hundred years.” He pointed to an archway leading to a large room, filled with rows of casks. “Our Cabernet production from the past two years, aging in toasted oak.”

  She followed him into a lab-like room adjacent to the casks—the stainless steel surfaces gave it a sterile look, with test equipment filling one corner. Holding up her bag, she asked, “I brought samples of clone blood. Would you like to try some first?”

  “Afterwards. I never drink blood before tasting wine. It might throw off my sense of smell. Does it need refrigeration?”

  “No.”

  “Then leave it here while we test the barrels.”

  She placed the bag and her purse on the counter. Cabinets above the counter held wineglasses, and he took out a tray of thirty and set them on a cart. He added a clipboard with a printed chart. A lower shelf on the cart held a plastic bin, the type used for washing dishes. He rolled the cart to the first set of oak casks and, after removing a large plug from the top of the cask, took a glass tube and lowered it into the wine.

  “We use the wine thief to steal wine from the center of the barrel,” he said.

  It looked like a long pipette, the kind you might use in any research lab. He placed his thumb over the exposed opening at the top of the tube and withdrew the wine thief. Purple liquid filled it. Positioning the tapered end over a wineglass, he removed his thumb—about an inch of wine flowed into the glass, and he placed the empty wine thief into a tall canister filled with clear water. He swirled the wineglass, held it up to the light, sniffed it, and then brought it to his lips.

  She raised one eyebrow. She’d never seen Leopold drink anything but blood and, occasionally, water. Before she could say, “You can drink—” he spat out the wine into a canister sitting on the cart. He repeated the process twice more, made notes on the clipboard, and plugged the cask.

  “This wine is much too young for you to taste,” he said. “When I find one almost ready for bottling, I’ll ask your opinion.”

  “Fine with me.”

  He laid the wineglass in the plastic tub and tested the next cask. She watched in silence while he worked his way through the first group, anxious for him to finish so he could try the blood samples she’d brought. After rolling the cart over to another set of casks, he changed pages on the clipboard.

  “These are much further along in the aging process,” he said, putting wine into a glass from the first cask. He swirled, looked, and sniffed. “Yes, this one is worthy of your attention.” He handed her the glass.

  She looked straight down into the glass as Leopold had taught her, tilting it to see the color at the edge, and then held it to the light—not murky, a good sign. She swirled it and the legs formed, running down the inside of the glass—a riper wine. She swirled again, placed her nose over the opening, and took a slight sniff of the aroma. No flaws, none detectable by scent. She then took a small sip.

  “I’m impressed by your technique,” he said. “Do you like it?”

  “I do. There’s a hint of fruit, like blackberries. And vanilla. It tastes like blackberries and vanilla.”

  “Right on both accounts. I may have to hire you as a taster.”

  She smiled and looked away. Something had changed since he kissed her almost a week ago. Now, his flirting felt real. She placed the empty glass in the tub, the same way he had, and walked with him to the next cask.

  “Have you heard anything from Tig?” she asked.

  “Nothing new. She sent Jayden out of town to interview men who knew the shooters, but it didn’t lead anywhere yet.”

  “Are you taking precaution
s? Whoever tried to shoot you may try again.”

  He cocked his head to one side. “You care if something happens to me?”

  “I, ah, I—”

  He held up his hand. “Don’t worry, I’m being careful.”

  He continued to test the casks, making notes and occasionally giving her one to try. She took a sip from each. What did his palate discern that hers didn’t? Of the ones he gave her, they all tasted the same.

  “I think…” he said, holding up another glass to the light. “I think you’re going about it wrong—your hunt for a mate.”

  She almost dropped her wineglass. “No one said I was hunting for a vampire mate,” she said testily.

  “Really?” he asked, a slight smirk forming.

  She tightened her grip on the glass. Yeah, she may have kissed him. And pressing up against him on the bike, hell, just being around him, stirred something in her. But she was not going to seduce him to buy his silence, no matter what Ari thought.

  “There’s a rumor going around I’m shopping for a mate,” she said, shaking her head. “But it’s not true.”

  “Ultimately you will if you decide to stay with us. You cannot live on the Hill—”

  “Unless mated. Yes, I understand, but under special circumstances, the Council can give permission—”

  “You cannot build a relationship on a lie.”

  “A lie?”

  “You are pretending to be mortal. You are not. At some point you will reveal your true nature to the one you select. This will create a sense of betrayal. He was deceived. He may wonder in what other ways you have deceived him. This is not good for trust.”

  “You sound like you speak from experience.”

  “I assume Karen told you what caused my breakup with Erin.”

  “She managed to mention it without sounding too pissed off.”

  He held out his hand, and she released her empty wineglass to him. “We should continue with the testing.”

  He wheeled the cart to another barrel. After a few more tastings, he said, “I’m sorry Erin felt she had to leave. I handled the situation poorly.”