Eamon scowled.
“You don’t like Anthony, do you?”
“I’ve never liked him. One doesn’t like a rival. Would you like something?” he asked as he started to refill his glass.
“No, I’m good.” She watched him top off the glass and sit back down. “It was his idea though to sell the painting for the upfront money for the club.”
He lifted his brows as he took a drink. “Another reason not to like him.”
“I loved that painting. We just didn’t have the liquid cash to get the property. So he sold it.” She tucked her feet under her.
The night he gave her the painting was the happiest he had ever seen her. She was speechless, a rare occurrence. He set it up in her room and she spent hours just staring at the blotchy dancers, like she was deciphering each brush stroke and getting lost in their dancer’s world.
“Well, have no fear. The painting is in my library. I certainly wasn’t going to let that idiot liquidate something like that.”
“Is it really? Thank you.”
He started to laugh. “I didn’t say I was going to give it back to you.” Her happy expression deflated. “I’ll consider it. I know how much you enjoy it.”
Her smile returned and lit up her face. “Thank you, Eamon.” The thank you came out with the Georgia twang she worked so hard to keep hidden. He smirked. “What?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. You’re welcome.”
Lauryl looked around the room for a second. “Your place is amazing. You always seem to have the coolest houses.”
“Not all vampires live in spooky castles, crypts, or haunted houses,” he said.
“I know, right? Most of the people who come to the club think they do.”
“You encourage the stereotype.”
“I think it works for our advantage, don’t you?”
“Without a doubt. Think about it. Of all the older vampires you know, how many dress and act like the people who frequent your club?”
“So far I haven’t found any.”
He winked at her. “Precisely. Those of us who have lived a long time know that it is best to blend in.”
“How long is long time?” she asked.
Eamon hesitated a moment. She had pestered him countless times about his age and how long he had been a vampire. He never gave her a straight answer. Now, it didn’t seem that big of a deal. He could tell she thought he wasn’t going to answer her question or answer it vaguely, as he had in the past, but why keep it a secret?
“Well over one thousand years.”
Lauryl blinked. “Wow.”
Eamon raised his glass to her. “Well put.”
“I had no idea.”
“That’s why I don’t let my age become common knowledge. It’s better for others just to speculate. They can feel I’m old and powerful. I don’t need to tell them.”
After taking in the astounding piece of information, Lauryl stared at him for a few seconds before she smiled. A quizzical expression formed on his face and she giggled. “Gosh, Eamon, I want to be like you when I grow up.”
He laughed along with her. “I think you might.”
They stopped laughing. “You know what? I think this is the most we’ve ever talked, or at least talked without arguing.”
“Funny how that happens. Perhaps now we can be friends?”
“Yeah, I guess so.” They stared at each other for a few seconds. She twisted her skirt around her finger and sighed. “There must be something in Amelie’s blood that’s changed you.”
He shrugged. It wasn’t in her blood, he thought. It was just her. “I’ve only taken her blood once so I doubt it.”
“I hate to keep going back to this, especially since I’m the one who screwed it up, but you need her in your life.”
Eamon dropped his head back and groaned. “Enough. I can’t change the situation so I’m going to let it be. Whatever she decides, I’ll have to accept. I learned the hard way with you. You don’t force someone to love you or force someone to accept this life.” He finished off his drink and set the glass on the table. “Besides, Marta has me involved in a project that should keep my mind off of Amelie.”
Lauryl’s eyebrows lifted. “A project? What kind of project?”
“Oh, something that some older vampires are going to meet about and consider,” he said and waved her off. He knew she’d pelt him with more questions anyway.
“Like what?”
“You don’t need to know everything.”
“I’m just curious. Especially since you used didn’t want anything to do with other vampires.”
He ignored her odd phrasing. “This is a favor to Marta. Like I said, it will give me something to occupy myself with.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“You know, as the owner of a very successful vampire club, I should know so I can keep you informed of anything that might develop.”
Her attempt at sounding serious amused him, but he didn’t smile. “How would you know what you were looking for?” he asked.
“That’s what I’m talking about! See you’ve proven my point!”
“Sometimes I think you talk simply to hear your own voice because that makes no sense. When the time is appropriate, you’ll find out.”
“Oh, okay,” she said, frowning.
Eamon glanced at his watch. It was after midnight now. “Why aren’t you at Bathory?”
“I took the night off. Anthony’s there.”
“You must have a great deal of confidence in him. More than I would, at least.”
She laughed. “He’s not that bad.”
“That’s not saying much.” What would a psychiatrist know about running a club? For that matter, what did Lauryl know? Somehow it was working, though.
Lauryl’s expression morphed into a more pensive one. “I think I feel the same way about him as you do about Amelie.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “I think I had fallen for Anthony way back in therapy, which was messed up, I know. Messed up or not, it works.”
“I supposed I ruined your blossoming romance,” Eamon said. He had sensed Wilson’s attraction when he saw them together that night at dinner. He ignored it, thinking that the doctor was no competition for him. Once again, his arrogance blinded him. Eamon sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.
“Yeah, but it worked out anyway.”
“Well, I’m happy that you have someone. I can’t say I’m happy he’s of my line, but I’m happy for you.” He thought for a moment. “Tell me, how did he react when you told him you were a vampire?”
“He was shocked at first, and then he was thrilled. He couldn’t wait for me to turn him.” She shrugged. “Anthony loves being a vampire.”
“Who would have thought?”
“Yeah, I know. I guess I was the only reluctant vampire.”
The psychiatrist surprised him. He thought for sure he would have been a self-loathing, mopey vampire. To his credit though, he turned out to be like everyone else. He embraced it.
Eamon’s phone vibrated. It was Marta again. “Bueno.”
“Is she still there?”
“Yes. We’re talking. We seem to be able to do that now that we’re no longer together.”
He looked at Lauryl, who was mouthing the words “should I go”. “Hang on,” he said, lowering the phone. “No, because I might not see you again for months.”
“Eamon, bring la niña perdida with you and come to my house,” Marta said.
Lauryl stood up to leave. “I think I should go.”
Eamon’s patience blew up. “Both of you stop it!” he said. “Lauryl, sit back down. I don’t want you to go.”
Lauryl sat down like an obedient dog.
“Marta, Jesus Christ, what’s the urgency with you tonight? If I can get over to you, I will. Tonight hasn’t been a stellar evening and I’d like to have a moment to process things.”
; “I’m sorry, Eamon. Forgive me. I didn’t even think about that,” Marta said. “I don’t know what has happened, but my home is open to you when you’re ready.”
Eamon ended the call and looked back at Lauryl. Her green eyes were soft and concerned. A tiny smile formed on her lips. As he stuffed the phone back into his pocket, he closed his eyes for a second. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Next time let it ring,” she said softly.
The gentle tone soothed his frayed nerves for the moment. “I suppose I should.”
“What did she want?”
“Well, there were several items on her agenda.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. This night had been the most stressful he had in a long time. He yearned for the times when he didn’t have stress. Those were gone. They ended when he decided to take a companion.
“Like? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
He frowned and got up to get himself another drink. “She wants to know what’s going on between you and me. I’m sure that she also wants to know when we can discuss the project I was talking about earlier, and finally she’ll want to know what happened earlier when I called her.” Eamon returned to his seat and crossed his leg over his knee.
“Oh.”
He drained the glass and looked at her. He didn’t want to be alone right now so he may as well take advantage of Lauryl’s good mood. “Would you like to take a ride?”
“Where to?”
“Culbreath Isles to see Marta.” He knocked the empty glass against his shoe.
“Are you serious? You want me to go with you?” She sank back in her chair.
“Why not? She won’t let up until she’s inspected you.”
“I guess so.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
I Did Have Rare Periods When I Did Like You, You Know
Lauryl kept her focus on remaining as they drove through South Tampa to Marta’s house. Once in a while she would steal a surreptitious glance at Eamon. It didn’t take a genius to guess what was troubling him. She knew he was agonizing about Amelie. She could feel the black cloud lingering around his marker. He could spout all of the inner peace, what-will-be-will-be, mumbo jumbo that he wanted. She knew he was devastated. She reached over, turned on the stereo, and Dancing Queen by ABBA blared from the speakers. She looked at the radio and the MP3 player synched with it.
“Whose music is this? You don’t listen to ABBA.”
He turned the volume down. “It’s Amelie’s. That’s her iPod. She left it in the car and let me keep it.”
Lauryl picked the iPod up and scanned through the playlist. “You listen to it? You listen to this music?”
He turned to her. “Yes, I do. She put together the playlist for me. I suppose that it’s a version of a mixed tape.” Eamon frowned and turned back to the road.
Lauryl continued to scroll through the playlist. Amelie’s taste in music was close to her own. It surprised her that Eamon listened to it. Some of the songs were sappy and functioned as sort of an iTunes love note to him. The girl was slick; nerdy, but slick.
“Kind of nice that you all live so close to each other.”
“Uh huh,” he mumbled. “Although Amelie may as well live on the moon now.”
Lauryl felt another twinge of guilt. She had never seen Eamon so morose. He didn’t even bother with his usual vague, smug smile. He just frowned. It was a frown like she’d never seen, even worse than when Irina died. More than likely, his mind was spinning overtime with possible ways to fix the situation, or make at least make it tolerable.
Lauryl ached for him. It surprised her, but he was truly devastated. Maybe she could help. She couldn’t undo the mistake. Maybe she could fix it. “I can go talk to Amelie if you want.”
Eamon shook his head. “No, I don’t want anyone to have any contact with her. She needs to make the decision on her own. Besides, I don’t think she’d let you in her house, let alone listen to you.”
Lauryl’s shoulders drooped. The nightmare she’d glamoured Amelie with was a little over the top. She sighed and wished she’d listened to Anthony when he tried to talk her out of going to see Amelie. “You live close to Marta though, right?”
“Yes, about ten minutes away.” He looked over at her. “Where do you live?”
“Me? Channelside.”
“I’m guessing that you live in one of those oddly-colored condos,” he said, referring to a block of condos painted in various “tropical” colors.
“Good guess.”
“Did I pay for that?” He frowned again and added, “Not that I mind, I suppose.”
“No, Anthony bought it.”
Eamon’s gaze drifted down to her left hand. Her ring wasn’t there. “Where’s your wedding ring?”
“My ring?”
“Yes, you know. The ring I gave you with the emerald and the diamonds.”
She looked at him for a second and smiled before pulling the chain around her neck from under her dress. The three-carat emerald and diamond ring hung from the chain. “No matter what you think, I wouldn’t sell it.” She dropped the ring back under her dress. “I did have rare periods where I did like you, you know. I probably like you now.”
“That’s good to know.” He pulled up to the gate to Marta’s neighborhood. The guard waved him through, and Eamon continued on to Marta’s house. He turned the Porsche into Marta’s drive and got out.
Lauryl got out of the car and stepped back against it.
“It’s just a house where a friend lives. No one’s going to hurt you, Lauryl. Relax.” He took her hand and pulled her gently to the door. Isabelle opened it.
“Hello, Eamon.” She lowered her head.
He turned her chin up to him. “Hello, Isabelle. We’ve come to see Marta.”
Isabelle looked at Lauryl, her jaw dropping slightly at the sight of her. “Come in, she’s in the living room.”
Eamon pulled Lauryl in with him. Marta came out of the living room. Her eyes sparkled at the two of them.
“I’m pleased that you’ve come, Eamon. And I see you have brought la perdida with you.”
“Lauryl, may I present Marta Jimenez-de Castillo. Marta, this is Lauryl Mellis. Or is it Wilson?” he asked, looking down at Lauryl.
“No.”
“No?” Marta asked. She took a step closer to Lauryl.
Lauryl could feel the energy pouring off Marta. She never understood why she only felt parts of Eamon’s intense energy, but could feel other older vampires’ energy like furnaces. She swallowed hard. “No, it’s not Wilson.”
“Ah, well, that’s cleared up.” Marta surveyed Lauryl. “She is beautiful Eamon. I like her like this, not as she dresses when she performs at Bathory. She is very provocative there, though.”
Marta’s probing stare ran all over her body. The way she was talking about her, as if she wasn’t there, stripped away her confidence. Maybe because it was in front of Eamon. She stepped closer to him.
“She is lovely.” He pulled her into the living room, sat her down on the sofa, and then sat next to her.
Marta sat down across from them. “First, let me offer you something to drink. Would either of you care for anything?”
He turned to Lauryl and she shook her head. “No, not at the moment.”
“Isabelle,” Marta called. “Come in here, querida.”
Lauryl liked the way Marta pronounced Isabelle’s name. Eee-sa-bell. The girl came in and sat on the floor in front of Marta. The human was like a pet for her, or a slave. A willing human who wanted to be a well-cared for meal. Marta played with the girl’s hair. Lauryl watched Eamon from the corner of her eye. He sat with his typical air of nonchalance, observing Marta pet and play with Isabelle.
“As you can see, Marta, my night has been interesting,” Eamon said.
“I see that.”
“It started off less than stellar though. Amelie now knows I’m a vampire and is frightened of me. I tried to convince her I wouldn’t hurt her
, but she’s conflicted, to say the least.”
“Oh, Eamon, I’m so sorry.”
“That’s why I called you earlier this evening. When I got back to my house, I found I had a visitor.” He nodded at Lauryl.
“I—it was my fault Amelie found out. I did that,” Lauryl said. She frowned at Eamon.
He gave Lauryl a forgiving smile. “Anyway, since I’ve given Amelie the final say in whether or not she wants to be with me as a vampire, it would seem that I might have more free time to devote to your project.”
Lauryl again perked up at the mention of the project. “Are you going to tell me?”
“I suppose.”
Lauryl inched forward, waiting for them to let her in on their secret.
“So,” Marta began. “I can let my friends know that we want to discuss our idea?”
“No, you may tell your friends that you want to discuss your idea,” he corrected. “This is your project, Marta. I’m only a supporter.” He absently reached for his phone to check for any messages. As soon as he pulled the phone out, he knew that there wouldn’t be any. He glanced at the A+E= <3 wallpaper and dropped it back in his pocket.
“But you think it is a viable idea?”
“I wouldn’t support it if I didn’t. I don’t think you need my name on it, though. You’re strong enough and persuasive enough to make this happen.”
Marta looked over at Lauryl, who was listening carefully to what they were saying. Marta turned back to Eamon. “Well, I just like the protection of my Primigenio.”
“What?” Lauryl asked.
Marta rolled her eyes and nodded at Eamon. “My Great Old One, Our First Born.” She crossed her legs and sighed. “Querida, do you know nothing of being a vampire?”
“Not a Spanish one,” Lauryl replied.
Eamon spoke up. “Darling, that isn’t a Spanish term. It’s a universal term applied to very old vampires, or vampires who are the head of their line.”
“I didn’t know,” Lauryl said, shrinking into her seat with embarrassment.
“No need to be embarrassed.” He smiled at Marta. “You have my full support.”
“Thank you.” Marta turned back to Lauryl. “The project we’re working on is the formation of a governing body for our kind. At the moment, there isn’t one.”
Life in Moonlight: The Primigenio Tales: Book 1 Page 25