Vampire Interrupted (Wicked Good Witches Book 8)

by Starla Silver

  And rather glumly, all these people had taken on still poses, their gazes firmly fixed on him in what he guessed was shock of the non-happy kind. Regardless, his feeling had brought him here. So he pulled the bike off to the side of the road and removed his helmet.

  “Where the hell am I?”

  The people continued to stare like they hadn’t seen someone come through that door in ages. And were not supposed to. And were not happy about it at all. But they kept their distance, eyes glued, as if waiting for him to make the first move.

  A woman Riley estimated to be in her forties exited the newly opened pub. One of those woman where it was hard to guess, as there was an aged gleam in her eyes which pegged her as much older, but outwardly her beauty was non-arguable. Perfect skin, not a single age spot or wrinkle. Lustrous, long, dark hair. Inviting smile. Clothes that were long and billowy. Modern, and yet not. The best he could describe her was hippie chic. Relaxed, and yet perfectly put together. Sort of like a walking piece of artwork.

  “Comment ca va?” she called out in eloquent greeting. Riley recognized the accent and greeting as French, Canadian style, not uncommon in New Orleans, but was confused by her personal flare to it. Like they knew each other. “About time you got here, young man.”

  Was she really talking to him? The woman motioned for him to come with her. He glanced around thinking she meant someone else. He got off the bike, put away the helmet, and approached her once he saw there was no one but him.

  “Are you talking to me?”

  “Who else would I be talking to? Ca va?” she repeated again.

  “It’s just… um, I’m fine, I guess,” he answered her in a raised question-like tone. Comment ca va was an informal how are you between friends… and he’d never seen this woman in his life.

  “Glad to hear it. We’ve been expecting you.”

  “How?”

  She leaned in. “You see all the people staring at you?”

  “Um, yeah. Kind of hard not to.”

  “You don’t want them thinking you just happened across this place now, do you?”

  “But that’s exactly how it happened.”

  “Is it?” she eyed him with an unreadable grin. “Come…” she shifted direction and disappeared inside the pub she’d exited a moment ago. Riley noted the suspicious stares and nodded uncomfortably in greeting, pretending he was expected, and followed the woman. His feeling wasn’t giving him anything, but his gut told him it was the smart move.

  “Have a seat,” she told him, pointing with her head to a stool at the bar. “Annie,” she called out.

  A young woman came out of a back room wiping her hands on a towel. Bright, was the best way to describe her. She gleamed, beamed and shined from her glossy hair, glowing perfect skin, warm smile and body that glided rather than walked. A younger version of the woman who’d brought him in here, he assumed her daughter.

  The young woman eyed the older woman in silent question.

  “Tiguidou,” the woman who brought him in told Annie. Riley wracked his brain to recall what the word meant. He’d had a friend in school who came to the States from Quebec and had learned a little of the slang he always spouted. He thought it was a term meaning all is well, or no worries, something like that.

  Whatever it meant, Annie accepted it at face value.

  The woman smiled kindly. “Get the young man a beer and a sandwich. He’s traveled a long way.”

  “How do you know that?” Riley muttered. Befuddled.

  The woman did not reply. Annie tossed him a wide smile, looking him up down. And hold up, was she smelling him? Behind the brightness was something else he couldn’t put his finger on. He’d expected Annie was the woman’s daughter, but when she spoke she had an American accent, not French. Still, they had to be related in some way. They carried themselves so similarly.

  “Aren’t you delicious.” It was a statement, not a question. And bold, thought Riley. “I could eat off you for days.” Annie licked her lips.

  No wait, not lips, teeth.

  Did I say teeth?

  Those are not teeth she’s licking.

  Holy shit… those are fangs…

  She’s a vampire…

  Riley choked out a breath, certain he’d just made some huge mistake. If he wasn’t wrong, the only thing separating him from a vampire was a wooden bar. He spied for any loose pieces to use as a stake.

  The woman who brought him in cleared her throat and placed her hands on her hips. “Crisse, Annie,” she cursed, pissed, but also amused.

  “Sorry, Jean.” Annie didn’t sound sorry. “I can’t help it. We haven’t had any fresh blood in an age. He smells like…”

  Riley stumbled off the stool, cutting off her description of how he smelled. “You- you’re a vampire.” Obviously, dumbass… his brain responded.

  “Excuse my loose tongued Annie. There’s always nicer ways to break it.”

  Riley spun and saw the woman named Jean smiling, two fangs extending out of her gums.

  “Um. I think there’s been a mistake,” stuttered Riley.

  Yeah, they had something in common all right! Vampires!

  He started for the door.

  Jean was there before he got two steps.

  “Go. Sit.” Her voice was kind. Her fangs retracted. “You have nothing to fear here. My daughter teases. Everyone in Sorcier is a supernatural of some kind. Annie is my adopted daughter. She is my most precious gift, though not tactful.” She eyed the young woman sternly again.

  “Sorry, new guy,” said Annie. “Freaking out the unawares is the only real fun I get around her. And yeah, yeah,” she aimed at Jean. “On it. Beer. Food.”

  Riley made his way back to his stool. Although apprehensively. “So, um, you’re vampires, but you run a pub that serves non-vampires?”

  “Everyone’s got to eat. And who says we don’t serve out kind as well?”

  Riley didn’t like this place. Why the hell had his feeling led him here? He’d had enough dealings with vampires to last a lifetime. And what happened to vampires can’t go out in the day because sun would burn them? It was evening but there was still light. Problem for another time he decided. Current problem, surviving. Getting out of this pub before his blood got sucked dry.

  Jean took a seat next to him and grabbed a bottle of tequila. She poured him a shot. He gladly downed it, wincing at the initial burn across his dry throat, at the same time thinking, dang it, I hope this isn’t poisoned. He half expected to pass out, wake up their prisoner with blood draining out of him… but he’d already swallowed it.

  “You don’t trust much? Do you?” Jean reached out and stroked his hair, like a mother who’d just found a lost child. He flinched, she pulled back gently.

  “I’ve never had much reason to.” And hello, you’re a vampire!

  “You are safe here. You’ll see in time. What’s your name?”

  “I’m surprised you don’t already know,” he cracked.

  “I was not expecting you. But I saw you come through with that lost puppy dog face, knew you’d been brought here for some reason. A reason I’m sure we’ll figure out with time.”

  God, this place was strange.

  “My name is Riley,” he said after a minute.

  “A nice, strong name. Welcome to the Sorcier Colony, Riley, who just happened upon this place. Our colony is a one of peace. A safe haven for Supernaturals wishing to escape the perils of the outside world. But newcomers do have to earn the trust of others.”

  What Riley heard was, the trust of me…

  “A colony for Supernaturals? Of all kinds? And you live in peace?” He found that near impossible to believe. Even so, his nerves calmed some. Or maybe that was just the tequila talking. Or the poison yet to kick in…

  Annie came out with an iced mug of beer and a sandwich. His stomach rumbled out of sheer want of the food. It looked more appetizing than anything he’d eaten since leaving The Demon Isle.

  “Eat,” ordered Jean. “I�
�ll let Annie tell you about our home. I have a few fires to put out.”

  Jean was gone in a flash and Annie laughed and shook her head. “What she really means is lying to people and telling them she asked you here. So people don’t cast you out, or something…”

  “Or something?”

  “Like she said, not everyone here takes kindly to strangers who show up out of the blue. We get travelers, but usually not unannounced.”

  He took a sip of beer and a bite of food, his brain straining to understand.

  “So how did you find us?” she asked, dying to know.

  “That is difficult to explain.”

  “We don’t drink from humans,” she stated bluntly. “If you were worried about that. It’s one of the rules for living here. I’ve never had a drink of human blood in all my time as a vampire. My parents were quite strict. But I dare say you’d taste even more delicious than you smell.”

  Riley choked down his beer. Her easy, bold nature sending his blood pumping through his heart at full pace.

  “When you say parents, I’m assuming you mean the one who sired you, and the woman, Jean? Or did she sire you and then adopt you?”

  “I call the man who sired me, father. Only in the sense that he gave me new life. Jean adopted me a number of years after. And she’s the best mother a forever twenty-year-old could ask for. She took me in after my father accidentally turned me.”

  “How old are you really? Um, sorry, if I can ask that.”

  “Three-hundred-forty-nine,” she returned proudly.

  “Seriously? Wow, you’re almost as old as…” he refused to think of William Wakefield, the only other vampire he’d ever met who was just over four-hundred.

  “Old as who?” she prodded.

  “No one. That’s a lot of years, hard to wrap my head around. How long have you been living here?”

  “This colony is about to turn two-hundred-twenty-five years old. My father started it. A safe haven for Supernaturals who chose not to be monsters. Or wished to live with the freedom to be who we are without persecution. We get new blood here and there, and visitors, but it’s not as often as it used to be.”

  “So your father is the leader of this place?”

  “Not so much now. He started it. Made sure it would succeed. Spent about twenty years with us and left. I haven’t seen him in about thirty years. Mind you, vampire visits and vacations are not the same as humans.”

  “Being that you live so much longer…” Riley guessed. “So you do leave this place? Are you allowed to?”

  “Yes. It’s not a prison. It’s our home. But I don’t leave often. I get an itch to travel every few years, investigate the rest of the world like anyone might. But Sorcier is my favorite place to be, I guess because it’s home.”

  “A home is something I can’t really relate to,” Riley admitted. “Not the last few years anyway.”

  Annie waited for him to explain but didn’t push when he did not.

  “I think part of the reason my father created this place was to make sure I had a stable home. He’s always carried tremendous guilt over turning me. He was but fifty years a vampire at the time. Was definitely not the saint-like vampire he became after turning me, but he’s always supported me and my mother, from afar. And it was turning me that made him give up his wild ways. He’s also the reason I’ve never drank human blood, and came to live with Jean. They became friends while living in the American Colonies, and she adopted me and they brought me down here years later. She’d always regretted not having a child while she was still human.”

  “American Colonies, you mean like the original settlements, back before we were even the United States?”

  She gave him a firm nod wearing a bright grin.

  “That really puts a face to the date. You are really old.” Riley narrowed his gaze in apology. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way. Just… wow. That’s a lot of history to live through.”

  “It is. I find it fascinating.”

  “Sounds like, other than being turned into a vampire, you’re pretty lucky.”

  “I am. But I think all the more for being turned. I don’t think my father’s ever gotten over the fact that once I got used to the idea, I love being a vampire. My life before was terrible. I didn’t leave anything behind. Not worth missing anyway.”

  Riley sat back a little, shaking his head.

  “A bit much take in?” Annie guessed.

  So much. So very much. And yet in the thirty or so minutes he’d been here, he’d gone from freaked out and thinking he was a dead man to I think I’d like to stay. There was something about this place, vampires, supernaturals, or whatever else lived here set aside, that called out homey. Comfortable. And safe.

  “I had no idea a place like this existed. Maybe if…” he went silent, finishing in his head. Maybe if Lucas and I had come to a place like this, things would have turned out different. But this is a place of magic. Lucas would have hated it just as much as The Demon Isle.

  “You don’t like sharing much, do you?”

  “I normally don’t mind. But at the moment, not really.” Things he considered too personal at least. Or events too fresh in his mind that he’d rather forget about.

  “Fair enough.” Annie was easy to please. Riley liked that.

  “So how many vampires live here?” he asked.

  “A handful. A large handful,” she restated. “We’re a mixed bunch here.”

  “But you all get along?”

  She shrugged. “Most of the time. As with any group of people differences of opinion make tempers flare.”

  “Am I really welcome here?” Riley questioned next, noting her flat, unflinching gaze. Easy to control for a vampire though.

  “Jean will make it so. She’s not an actual leader here, more of an unspoken one.”

  “Because it was your father, her friend, who started this place,” assumed Riley.

  “Yes. That and she cares about each person here. She’s like camp mom. Super mom. Whatever you’d like to call her. People value her opinion and seek it out often. You’re lucky it was her that caught you enter.”

  “Lucky you guys have a business right next to the door.”

  “There are others,” Annie told him. “We don’t sit around waiting.”

  He nodded. Finished with his food.

  “How do outsiders not come through, accidentally?”

  “Magic, of course. Mainly, because to see the door you have to have supernatural blood in your veins.” She raised her eyebrow in question.

  “I’m a witch,” he revealed. “Currently of the non-practicing kind.”

  She laughed at that.

  “And do you have a last name, Riley?” She prodded softly, and he stalled for a minute wondering if perhaps he should give a fake last name.

  “Deane,” slipped out before he could think up any other. “Riley Deane.” No flinch. No hint of knowing or fearing the name, Deane.

  “Welcome, Riley Deane. Non-practicing witch.” She didn’t push for more information, just grabbed his empty plate. “Oh, and just so you’re aware, Jean can work her magic with these people and get them to accept you here. But be careful. People in Sorcier lose trust much faster than it’s gained.”

  “Right. Not a problem. I’m not here to cause trouble.”

  “Why are you here?” she asked, genuinely curious.

  “I have no idea.”

  She breathed in and out, looking him over. “I’ve decided there’s more to you than just delectable smelling blood, Riley Deane.” The rest of her gaze warned him she’d peel away every layer until she had him all sorted out.

  Before she vanished into the kitchen, he stopped her. “Annie, I don’t suppose you happen to know of a cheap place for rent, or anyone hiring? I am in need of a bed, and a job.”

  “My guess is, you’ll be working here. With me.” She smiled. “And we have an empty guest room upstairs. Nothing fancy. But the bed is… firm.” She made special note of this fact and
fired him a playful wink.

  What was with all the women in this town? He’d never been hit on so many times in one day, ever. “Look, Annie. I’m grateful for the food. A bed. And a job. And I’d be a liar to say you weren’t gorgeous. But…”

  “Is it because I’m a vampire?” she interrupted evenly.

  “No. No… it’s just, I have no idea how long I’ll be here. I’m not planning on sticking around long.”

  A slow smile spread across her face. “I can hear when you’re telling the truth you know. It’s only fair to tell you I guess. Jean tells me it’s an extra gift I’ve been given. Kind of annoying really if you ask me, to know when people are blatantly lying to you.”

  He knew all about annoying gifts. His had brought him here. Which thinking about now, perhaps wasn’t so bad after all.

  “So you got a girl, Riley?”

  “I’m not sure how to answer that question.”

  “You’re telling the truth, you don’t know if she’s yours. But your heart definitely belongs to her, doesn’t it?” She didn’t expect a reply. “She break your heart, or you break hers?” Annie asked unabashed.

  “Um…” there was no simple yes or no answer, and it wasn’t a subject he wished to discuss. “It’s not as easy as her, or me. The truth is, my heart doesn’t really belong to anyone. Not even me. So there’s nothing to give anyone else.”

  His gaze dropped downward, tiredness kicking in, desire to talk, lost.

  “Riley, your bed is up the stairs, first door to the right.”

  “Thank you. And please thank Jean for me if she comes back and I’m not awake. Even if it’s only for the night, I appreciate it.” He made his way up and opened the first door. He got inside and closed it. What a strange place. But that feeling he got, told him he needed to stay. Was he safe? He had no idea. But the bed was too inviting to leave now.

  It was a sparsely decorated room, meant for the short-term traveler. A dresser. A bed. A closet. That’s as far as his investigation went. He ambled over, didn’t bother undressing, plunked down snoozing, seconds later.