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

by Jenna Barwin

  Once the last guest was out the door, she hugged Gaea. “Thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “Oh, go on with you,” Gaea said, returning the hug. “But you should have told me sooner what your lab would produce. It would have piqued the community’s interest. I mean, this could be a huge change for us.”

  “You’re right, of course,” Cerissa said. The same thing she had told Leopold months ago—but she had to present a united front. “We were concerned the community would grow impatient. It’ll be years before we’re up and running.”

  Gaea smiled at her. “When you live as long as we have, you learn to be patient.”

  Blanche walked over and flashed her fangs in a sneer. “Just because you gave a speech doesn’t mean they believe you.”

  “Now you behave yourself,” Gaea said to Blanche.

  Cerissa ignored Blanche’s nastiness. It didn’t matter if Blanche was so insecure that she thought the only way to win was by lying. Cerissa had more important things on her mind now. Six of the vampires and two mortals had provided email addresses. Between the land option and tonight’s presentation, she’d nailed it.

  She said goodnight and trudged upstairs to her room, the fatigue finally catching up with her. Just a few more steps. She dropped her purse near the closet door and plopped onto the bed. Lying face down, she hugged her pillow and sank into the soft mattress, closing her eyes. A few moments later, she rolled over and stared at the pathetic crystal chandelier above her. Sleep wouldn’t come. She wished she could go see Henry instead. He trusted her and believed in her, and his faith made her feel something she’d never felt before.

  And now they can’t kick me off the Hill. The mayor had given her one week to provide proof, and she’d done it in thirty-six hours. Both Leopold and the Protectors will be happy.

  Then the realization hit her so strongly that she suddenly sat up. She hadn’t done it for either of them. For the first time in her life, she’d really done something just for herself—so she could go to the dance with Henry.

  Wow. Well, now I’m wide-awake. She got up, took out her contact lenses, and, using her phone, emailed prospectuses to those who had signed up. When Gaea called her to the front door, she guessed her visitor might be Henry, too eager to see her to wait for the dance. She ran down the stairs. Her stomach clutched when she saw who it was.

  “Hi, Zeke,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “You’ve been a bit unavailable lately,” he replied, taking off his hat and holding it in front of him. “Heard you had a little gathering here tonight. Thought I’d stop by to see how it went.”

  Gaea frowned and looked from Zeke to Cerissa, concern written on her face. “Cerissa, if you would like to talk to Zeke in the parlor, I’ll be nearby.”

  “Thank you,” Cerissa said, leading Zeke to the small parlor off the entryway.

  Damn. This is what I get for procrastinating. I should have taken Karen’s advice and called him before this, made sure he understood. She offered him a chair and took the tapestry one opposite him.

  “I’ve missed you,” he said.

  “Zeke—”

  “I brought you this.” He pulled a small jewelry box from his shirt pocket and opened it: a lovely string of pearls, with a moonstone pendant. If she accepted it, the moonstone would mark her as his. He didn’t want to date—he wanted to go straight to being mated.

  She shook her head. “I can’t accept it.”

  “But I want you to.” He reached for her hand and put the box in it. “I want you to wear it so you can go to the dance with me.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m already going with Henry.” She placed the jewelry box on the antique table nearest Zeke.

  Zeke’s eyes narrowed, a dark look crossing his face. “So it’s true? I heard the rumor—I just couldn’t believe ya’d do that to me.”

  She sat up straight. You owe him nothing.

  “Zeke. Enough. I told you from the start I wasn’t interested. How many times do I have to repeat myself?”

  “But I thought—”

  “At least I was honest with you.”

  A guilty look replaced his dark one. “What do ya mean?”

  She needed to woman up and finish this. “You lied to me about your work for the government. I know what you do, the trail of bodies you leave.”

  “Henry told you.”

  “He didn’t,” she said. How much to reveal? “I have other sources. I’m an envoy, remember? I can’t be associated with someone who does what you do. I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “I don’t give a damn whether you do.” She stood up. “You should leave.”

  He stood up too, but he didn’t leave. He grabbed her and pulled her to him. “No one does this to Zeke Cannon.”

  She pulled away from him, and he grabbed both of her wrists. Forcing one wrist to his lips, he kissed her skin, sending an unpleasant shiver down her back. His fangs flashed as he opened his mouth to bite.

  “What’s the penalty for biting another vampire’s human against her will?” she asked before he could strike.

  He stopped and glanced up from her wrist. “Henry hasn’t had your blood yet.”

  Henry? She was Leopold’s envoy; that was what she meant. Would Henry’s rights be greater than Leopold’s under these circumstances? Exhausted, she couldn’t remember which violation brought the greater penalty—she had removed her lenses and couldn’t look it up. But if Zeke thought she meant Henry, she’d play along, because clearly the vampire-centric rules didn’t view her consent as important. Grrr.

  “Can you be absolutely sure Henry hasn’t bitten me?” She looked him straight in the eyes as she said it. “I say I’m his. So what’s the penalty if you bite me by force?”

  Zeke looked uncertain for a moment. Then he pushed her away hard enough that she fell back onto the chair.

  “Who needs you,” he spat. He grabbed the jewelry box and stormed out, slamming the front door.

  She exhaled. If she had used her aura to defuse the situation, it would only cause him to cling tighter.

  Gaea appeared at the parlor door. “Did Zeke leave?”

  “Yes, and he won’t be back. Please don’t consider him a welcome visitor to me any longer.”

  “Wise decision, dear. If you want to join us, we’re about to watch a movie.”

  “Thank you, Gaea, but I need sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  Chapter 44

  The card game at Jose’s Cantina wrapped up around three in the morning. Henry strode out of the cantina feeling jubilant. Everything was falling into place. He had permission to take Cerissa to the dance. She might even accept his invitation afterward. Winning at cards hadn’t hurt either, and the town attorney finally revised the immunity agreement, adding the provisions he wanted. All reasons to feel good again.

  He drove the short distance to his house, turning onto the long driveway where it switch-backed up the front half of his property. Native oak trees grew on the slope bordering his land to the left, with rows of grapevines on his right, covering the lower hill. The vines led up to his home.

  He rounded one of the sharp curves and slammed his foot on the brake. A large boulder sat in the narrow driveway. Even without his car’s headlights illuminating the rock, he couldn’t have missed it, since it stood as tall as the Viper’s hood. He sat there for a moment staring at it.

  “Not again,” he groused. The slope to his left had been a source of rocks and boulders rolling onto his driveway for some time now. The last contractor who had fixed the retaining wall had shored up the slope sufficiently. Why were boulders once again littering his driveway? He couldn’t swerve to his right because of the deep irrigation ditch, and the steep slope on his left blocked his way on that side. The rock had managed to come to a rest in a short, level area where the driveway curved.

  He set the parking brake and walked to where the driveway flattened out, the headlights casting long shad
ows of him against the slope. The boulder had left a gouge on the slope when it rolled down, smaller rock and dirt trailing after it onto the driveway. He would clean it up later. The boulder was the main problem right now.

  He picked up the rock and heaved it to the side of the driveway, beyond the irrigation ditch, and watched it roll down the slope to the bottom. It was then he heard it: the faint rustle of a vampire moving quickly. He whipped around and found himself facing Zeke, who held a silver knife.

  Adrenaline snaked through him, his vision narrowing on the silver blade. One cut would leave necrotic tissue behind, returning his flesh to its dead state. Enough cuts and he would become withered and helpless, easy to stake.

  “I thought we might have a little palaver,” Zeke said, rotating the knife’s point. Moonlight glinted off its highly polished edge. “Put your hands up where I can see ’em.”

  “I have no quarrel with you,” Henry replied calmly, raising his hands, palms open, keeping them in front of him rather than over his head.

  “That’s a matter of opinion,” Zeke shot back. “You stole from me.”

  “I did not.”

  “Cerissa was mine.”

  “Not according to her.” Henry moved his focus from the silver knife to Zeke’s shoulders. Watch the shoulders.

  “I asked her out first. That makes her mine.” Zeke took a step closer to him. “And you told her what I do in South America.”

  “I did not. She asked, but I didn’t tell her.”

  “It had to be you—you’re the only one who had anything to gain.” Zeke waved the knife again. “You’ve poached my human, and you’ll pay the penalty, the same penalty my maker paid.”

  “There is no penalty to pay because I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  Henry gauged the distance between them. He couldn’t keep backing up—the irrigation ditch was behind him, and he refused to run.

  “She claims she’s yours now,” Zeke growled. “She told me so tonight.”

  “I have not taken her blood.”

  “Why would she lie to me?”

  “In your heart you know the answer.” He kept his eyes focused on Zeke’s shoulders, watching for the slightest movement. “You can still walk away from this. I am not one of your mortal victims—you’ll find it much harder to beat me.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. I know your weakness, your weakness for whores.”

  Henry clenched his hands into fists. “Heed my warning and leave.”

  “What, you don’t like the truth? Cerissa’s no different than any other whore you’ve had.”

  A white-hot flash of rage shot through him. He charged at Zeke, one hand locking around his knife arm. Zeke’s free hand grabbed his other wrist. A standoff. Henry shifted his weight, trying for leverage to throw Zeke, but the cowboy was gripping his wrist too tightly.

  He rocked back on one foot and threw his weight forward. It broke Zeke’s grip, but Zeke lunged at him. Henry felt the hot slash of silver as he pulled away. Blood bloomed on his shirt.

  Zeke jumped back out of reach, glancing at the bloody slash, a hard smile forming on his face.

  “I grow tired of this nonsense,” Henry spat out. Pain radiated through his side. He had to get his anger under control. “Either make your move or leave.”

  Zeke’s shoulder dipped to drive the knife forward. Henry saw the move telegraphed before the thrust finished, and slid aside, grabbing Zeke’s outstretched arm. Using Zeke’s momentum, he pulled the cowboy off balance and pushed Zeke’s wrist toward the ground. With his free hand, he punched Zeke in the face three times fast. Zeke staggered backward with each blow. The crunch of his nose breaking told Henry when to stop.

  The pain in his side became distant, replaced by a sense of satisfaction. Grabbing Zeke’s wrist with both hands, he twisted it in opposite directions, a quick back-and-forth motion that snapped the bone. The knife dropped and he caught it by its leather handle. Zeke grabbed for his broken wrist and stumbled backward, stopped by the steep slope.

  Now Henry held the knife pointed at Zeke. With Zeke disarmed, all he had to do was drive the knife through Zeke’s heart and his problem would disappear. No witnesses, not like when he killed Nathaniel. No one need know. He felt a warm flush of exhilaration, envisioning the moment of the kill and the power it came with—

  And the guilt that would follow. The voice in his head whispered to him: You won’t be able to hide it from Cerissa—she will hate you when she finds out.

  “Shut up,” Henry growled.

  “I didn’t say nothin’,” Zeke said over the back of his hand, which was now pressed against his bleeding nose.

  Henry stared at Zeke, the temptation to kill still strong. If he did, the face haunting his dreams wouldn’t be Nathaniel’s—it would be Zeke’s. But if he didn’t kill him, would Zeke return for another try? Killing the cowboy would prevent another attack, but would Cerissa understand? Her opinion mattered more than his safety.

  “Leave,” Henry ordered, “or I’ll call Tig and have you banned for this.”

  Zeke backed away, moving rapidly up the slope into the woods beyond. Henry collapsed into the driver’s seat. The pain in his side returned, increasing with each movement. He backed down the driveway and drove to Yacov’s house. If he asked Rolf for help, he’d only hear “I told you so.”

  He lightly knocked at Yacov’s back door, the one leading to Yacov’s home office. Shayna would be asleep, and he didn’t want to wake her. Yacov looked surprised when he opened the door. He motioned for Henry to enter and then quietly closed a connecting door between the office and his house. A single torchiere lamp lit the cluttered office, the amber lamp shade giving the room a warm glow.

  “What happened?” Yacov asked softly, his eyes fixed on Henry’s bloody shirt.

  Henry laid the silver knife on Yacov’s desk and told him about Zeke’s ambush. Lifting his shirt, he showed Yacov the blackened slash in his side, the skin puckered around it like a clam’s lips. The muscles around the slash contracted painfully as he moved.

  Yacov opened a vein in his wrist to drizzle blood over the black-edged skin. “Well, my friend, what do you want to do about Zeke?”

  A good question. A very good question. “Nothing,” Henry finally said. “Bringing this before the town council will only put the spotlight on Cerissa.”

  “Are you sure? This could be linked to the other attacks.”

  “Zeke’s ambush was poorly planned. Whoever is responsible for the other attacks hides behind humans.”

  “Still—”

  “I will not make this a council matter. Zeke will remind them of what I did to Nathaniel. I don’t want Nathaniel’s death stirred up over this. Not with Cerissa here.”

  Yacov touched his shoulder. “Nathaniel’s death was more than a century ago. You’ve changed, Henry, and the community has changed.”

  “No,” Henry said, shaking his head. He couldn’t take that risk.

  Yacov gave him a look saying he didn’t approve.

  Henry shook his head again. He wouldn’t budge on this.

  “All right, here’s what we’ll do.” Yacov picked up a plastic jeweler’s bag and slid it over the knife. “I’ll send you an email confirming what you’ve told me, and I’ll keep the knife. If there’s ever a question raised, I’ll have a record of our conversation, and the evidence.”

  “Thank you, Yacov,” Henry said, tucking his torn shirt back into his pants. “That should work.”

  “So, my friend, are you still taking Cerissa to the dance?”

  “Absolutely. To do anything else is to admit guilt.”

  “That’s not the only reason,” Yacov said with a knowing grin.

  They’d been friends too long to lie to each other. Yacov could always see right through him. “She told him she is mine now. I intend to find out if it’s true.”

  “Then you’ve called Leopold?”

  “Leopold?”

  “Both you and Zeke have overlooked something. By treaty,
no one may take her blood until Leopold releases her.”

  ¡Mierda! The treaty—how had he forgotten it? “I’ll text Leopold now and call him when I rise.”

  Yacov gave him a hearty pat on the back. “I just hope he lets you buy out her contract, because the last thing you want again is trouble with Leopold. The very last thing.”

  Chapter 45

  Gaea’s house—the next night

  Cerissa slipped into her high heels and glanced at the clock. Henry would arrive any minute to pick her up for the dance. A knock sounded on her bedroom door. Is he here already? She opened it to find Gaea standing there, holding a small bottle.

  “Oh, don’t you look lovely,” Gaea said. “I brought you some perfumed lotion—just a little dab of it on your hands and throat.”

  Cerissa sniffed the bottle’s pump. Chanel No. 5 was a classic perfume from the early 1900s. “This won’t be too strong?” she asked.

  “Not at all, the lotion isn’t as strong as the perfume.” Gaea squirted a dab on Cerissa’s hands, and then placed a small dot of it on her throat.

  “You’re sure?” Cerissa asked, rubbing in the perfumed lotion. “I thought—”

  “He wears cologne. His sensitive nose can handle a little perfume. Now don’t wrinkle your brow like that; you don’t have to figure it out. Tonight you have other things to figure out.”

  A warmth rose to her cheeks at being reminded of Henry’s invitation. She had warned Gaea not to worry if she didn’t return after the dance.

  “Lovely, just lovely.” One of Gaea’s fingers roosted underneath Cerissa’s chin, guiding her head left, then right, while Gaea closely scrutinized her makeup. “Now, I want you to wait up here for him. Don’t stand by the door. It makes you look too eager.”

  “But I am eager to see him.” She followed Gaea into the hallway.

  “Trust me. Stay here and use the stairs to make your entrance. And move slowly.”