by Rose Wulf
“In the living room, Veronica,” Carol Wyndham called back, her voice carrying down the hall.
Veronica obediently made her way down the hall, noting the slowly-fading smell of freshly baked casserole coming from the kitchen as she passed. Casserole? That seems clichéd, even for my mother. But she let it go, knowing her mother well enough to accept that she had undoubtedly had some sort of reason for her choice. And then she was standing in the entry to the living room, taking note of the changes.
Her mother had rearranged the furniture again.
“I was starting to worry you would be late,” Carol declared from her comfortable seat in the overstuffed armchair, which was now positioned on the far side of the large window. Gesturing to the couch toward her left, she added, “Come on, sit. We don’t have to leave quite yet.”
Releasing a breath, Veronica moved forward, saying, “I like what you’ve done with the furniture.” Not that it was necessary. Her mother rearranged the furniture like clockwork every six months. And though Veronica knew why, she wished her mother would stop.
“Do you?” Carol asked, casting her faded blue gaze around the room with passing interest. “I can’t decide how I feel about it.”
“You always say that,” Veronica commented, leaning back into the cushions of the couch. She cringed faintly when she realized she’d said that aloud, and she couldn’t bring herself to look over at her mother for a moment.
Carol was quiet for a second before she said, “I made Grandmother’s casserole for the dinner. It wasn’t my first choice, of course, but Pauline drew dessert this time.”
Granting her mother yet another victory—though this one was far less difficult to allow—Veronica asked, “You drew for who would bring what?”
“We did,” Carol replied, turning a mildly-amused smile toward her. “We thought it would help keep things interesting.”
Veronica merely nodded, finding it hard to feign interest in the topic. In some ways, this idly sitting and surface-chatting was worse than the potlucks.
Carol didn’t wait long before changing the subject again, saying, “I’m sorry about whatever plans you had to cancel. You know I don’t mean to inconvenience you.”
Another twinge of double-sided guilt slashed through her, and Veronica took a second before replying, “Don’t worry about it; I just rescheduled.”
“Good,” Carol began. “Can I ask what you were going to be doing? I don’t suppose you had a date? You know you could have just told me if you did, I’d have understood.”
That I believe. If there was one thing Carol Wyndham would accept having her plans altered for, it was an increase in Veronica’s love-life. They were in constant disagreement about how much emphasis she should be putting on romance. Instead of commenting on that, however, Veronica replied, “It’s Ali’s birthday, Mom. She’s actually celebrating this year.”
“Oh,” Carol said, clearly surprised at the news. It only took her a second, however, before she smiled again and added, “Well why didn’t you bring her? She could have a free dinner; doesn’t everyone like that? She knows she’s always welcome.”
“She made plans with all of her friends, Mom, not just me,” Veronica explained. There was no point in adding that Allison had less reason to be interested in this potluck than she did.
“I see,” Carol stated with a faint nod. She uncrossed her legs, then, and prepared to stand as she added, “Well, the next time you see her, tell her I said hello, won’t you? Now come on, it’s time to gather the casserole.”
Unsurprisingly, the entire neighborhood seemed to have turned out for the potluck. And, much to Carol’s bewilderment, Veronica was the only grown child who returned for the dinner. She even had a few of their long-time neighbors ask what she was doing there and why she wasn’t out having fun on a Saturday night. For her mother’s sake, Veronica only smiled and said that she had been planning to come home for dinner that night, anyway. And, when Carol took Veronica up to the new neighbors for introductions, Veronica began to suspect the truth behind her mother’s insistence.
The new neighbors were a nice-looking couple, probably in their late fifties or early sixties, and they were standing on either side of a young man who looked to be about Veronica’s age. He was a handful of inches taller than her, the slightest bit overweight, with styled light brown hair and smiling hazel eyes. For all intents and purposes, he was a good looking man. But he was no Seth Hunter.
“—and their son, Cliff,” Carol was saying, her arm extended a bit towards the man in question.
Veronica allowed her mother’s words to drag her out of her internal argument over whether or not Seth should be her new standard and pulled out her politely-friendly smile once more. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said, extending her hand toward each member of the family whose surname she’d missed.
Cliff’s and Veronica’s hands were still mid-shake when Carol suddenly said, “Oh, Anita, have you met Pauline yet? I saw her sitting over by that beautiful tree in the backyard; I’d be happy to introduce you.”
Subtle, Mom, Veronica thought with a silent sigh. Predictably, Anita and her husband quickly jumped on the offer, leaving their son to keep her company.
When they were alone, Cliff offered her a lopsided grin and declared, “It’s nice to see someone else my own age around here.”
Relegating herself to the role of ‘potluck buddy,’ Veronica’s smile returned and she threw in a short laugh as she said, “Yeah, I think these things have gotten a lot less interesting since I was a kid.”
“Did you grow up here?” Cliff asked, hooking his thumbs in his pockets and shifting his weight.
“I did,” Veronica replied honestly. “Spent the first twenty years of my life two houses over.”
His grin broadened a bit and he said, “You’re lucky. We moved a lot when I was young; it wasn’t until my freshman year of high school that we finally settled in for a while. But my parents got to retire early and decided to go for one more move, so here we are.”
“Do you still live with them?” she asked before she could stop herself.
Cliff laughed quietly and shook his head, his eyes dancing with understanding amusement. “No. I was actually already moving to town for work; I think that’s why they chose this city.”
Well, that’s one piece of relief, at least. “I can sort of understand that,” she replied. And that much was also true; she knew if she ever left town that her mother would most likely pack up and follow her.
“So,” Cliff began, removing one hand from his pocket in order to gesture to their surroundings, “what’s there to do around here, anyway? I’m afraid I haven’t had time to play tourist yet.”
Realizing that she was going to have to entertain the new guy for the evening—or at least until dinner—Veronica bit back a sigh and set about answering his question. If she was lucky, though, the night’s events would help to keep her mind off of everything that had taken place earlier that afternoon.
****
To the best of Robert’s knowledge, he only had two vampires named Wilson in his Family—brothers by the names of Troy and Tobias. Throw in Gregory Richards, and there were three—the exact number of men Veronica had seen. It was too much of a coincidence to ignore. So far as Seth was concerned the only part that didn’t add up was that the brothers would have been pitted almost against each other. And while he had certainly seen his share of family feuds, Robert had insisted that the brothers were actually fairly close. Then again, Seth reminded himself, one or both types of behavior could be an act.
Not that it mattered. Now that he had names his job was about to get a lot easier. Robert had given him the relevant addresses, and since the sun had fully set it was time to pay the men a visit. To appease his sanity, Seth had opted to start with Richards. From what Veronica had witnessed, Richards seemed to be the aggressor of the group—which meant he was the biggest threat all around.
Seth parked his car a couple of blocks down from the en
trance to the apartment complex, cut the engine, and waited. His eyes scanned the street ahead of him, looking for movement, but everything around him seemed quiet. Of course, he wasn’t really expecting problems until he got to where he was going, but it paid to be careful. Once he was sure that nothing suspicious was hiding behind the light poles, Seth stepped from his car and started toward the appropriate driveway. His body tensed as he moved; he knew exactly what he was walking into.
Robert owned the complex where Richards and both Wilson brothers resided. He had purchased the property nearly thirty years before in order to provide housing for his Family, though, of course, ordinary humans lived there as well, entirely oblivious to the creatures in the buildings around them. From what Robert had said, the majority of the apartments were currently occupied by Family, which meant Seth needed to be careful. If Richards or either Wilson were smart, when Seth made his move they would make noise and draw the attention of their neighbors, and Seth would find himself surrounded by angry vampires regarding him as the traitor. It was a dangerous situation.
The complex itself was well-kept. The buildings were relatively clean, with fresh-enough coats of paint; the trees weren’t quite in need of trimming, and the visible lawn spaces were well-watered and recently mowed. There was a pool area—containing both pool and average-sized hot tub—to the immediate right of the front driveway. The office building—and adjoining apartment, occupied by a long-standing member of the Family—stood alone in the center while the driveway curved around on either side. Richards’s’ apartment was off to the left, near the middle, according to the simple map Seth had seen in Robert’s office.
Seth kept his pace deliberate, his gaze forward, as he walked down the driveway. He knew that someone was likely to see him, and he didn’t want to raise any unnecessary suspicions. It took a conscious effort to keep from increasing his speed, but he forced himself to hold back. The last thing he or anyone needed was for a human to catch sight of him right before he slipped into a true run. And then he was standing in front of the cluster of apartments that contained Richards’s’ number, and he paused one more time to ascertain his surroundings.
Everything was still quiet. He could just barely hear the whisper of a neighbor’s television a couple of doors down, and someone’s howling cat, but nothing else. No one was walking around outside, even though it was only barely past nine. Too quiet.
Guard up, Seth started forward again, following the grass-lined sidewalk up to apartment forty-six and knocking. He hated the idea of giving his prey any sort of warning, but it was more important to avoid making a scene, so he knocked sharply once and stilled, listening. Again, he heard nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Suspicion was flaring in his gut, and Seth again raised his hand, only this time he reached out and tried the knob. The door was locked, of course, so Seth dipped his hand into his pocket and extracted the master key that Robert had given him. Within seconds the door was swinging open, Seth’s eyes automatically adjusting to the change in lighting, and he stepped through quickly before pulling the door shut behind him.
The lights were off in Richards’s apartment. Nothing was moving, or even breathing. There was sparsely-scattered furniture in the living room and dining area, as well as some typical clutter on the kitchen counters, but for all intents and purposes the apartment was empty. Still, Seth quietly moved through the rest of the space, poking his head into the bathroom as well as the single bedroom and two hall closets. Bare-minimum furniture was all he found.
Damn! Richards had, as he’d feared, anticipated that someone would come looking for him. There wasn’t a single sign of where he might’ve gone, and something about that realization had warning bells firing in Seth’s head.
Chapter Three
“What a nice evening,” Carol declared as she led the way up to the front door. “I dare say Grandmother’s casserole was a hit!”
“Grandma’s casserole is delicious,” Veronica agreed, doing her best to keep her exhaustion from her voice. “But now you don’t have leftovers.”
“You know I don’t like leftovers, anyway,” Carol reminded easily. She came to a stop on the front stoop and turned to face her daughter, asking, “Will you be staying?”
Veronica shook her head easily, replying, “No, I need to get home.”
Resignation muted Carol’s expression and she nodded. “I suppose you do.” She paused for a beat, adjusted her grip on the casserole dish, and asked, “What did you think of Cliff? He’s a nice enough young man, don’t you think? His mother was telling me that he was the star of the football team in high school.”
Of course he was. Veronica’s smile was a bit more forced as she slowly nodded and said, “He seemed nice.” It was her turn to pause as she struggled to find the best way to get her point across, before she finally settled on the direct approach and added, “But please tell me you’re not trying to fix me up with him.”
Carol scoffed as if the idea was beneath her and said, “Veronica, please be reasonable! You’re a grown woman, you need to make your own choices.”
“Mom,” Veronica cut in deliberately, a note of warning in her voice.
“Relax, Veronica,” Carol insisted. “Now go on. You want to get home before it gets too late.”
A sinking feeling settling in her stomach, Veronica released a breath and nodded again. “Okay. Good night, Mom.” Her mother called ‘good night’ as she turned and started toward the car still parked in the driveway, and she managed to offer a big smile and little wave through the windshield as she backed into the street a minute later. But she knew what her mother was doing. She was going to try and set her up with Cliff, she just wasn’t going to call it that. That was, after all, exactly what she’d done for the potluck.
Veronica was straightening the car, now aimed in the proper direction for home, when a flicker of movement caught her eye. It was just a blur, and there was nothing standing on the lawn between her mother’s house and the older house next door when she took a closer look. But there wasn’t a breeze of any type at the moment, and she could have sworn there had been something there. Whatever it had been, though, it was gone now. Maybe I’m more tired than I thought.
Shaking it off, Veronica returned her focus to driving home and started down the street. She was clearly going delusional; she knew first-hand that the neighbors were all either in their homes or at what was left of the potluck. This wasn’t a late-night-out neighborhood, and the people who lived in the house next to her mother’s didn’t have a pet that she knew of, either. That settles it; I either need to go straight to bed or drink a cup of coffee. And since she still needed to call Allison in order to wish her a happy birthday she would definitely be going with the coffee.
She was halfway home when she decided that she would take a detour and stop over at the coffee house instead of making a drink of her own. With any luck, her coworker and friend Mandy would be there, too. She hadn’t actually seen Mandy since her abrupt reassignment to the morning shift at the start of July, and this close to closing they were usually about dead, so it would be a good chance to catch up. By the time she was pulling in to a front parking space she was already feeling a bit more awake and her smile was easier.
The soft tinkling of the bells over the door heralded her arrival, and Veronica found herself oddly comforted by the sound. After a long evening of required socializing and faking her interest in what was going on around her the coffee-enriched air of the small building brought a lightness to her spirit and eased out a bit of the tension in her muscles. There was something about the smell of coffee that always resonated with her—it was why she had chosen to apply for a coffee shop in the first place.
Her eyes easily scanned the room, noting the lone customer sitting in a back chair and typing away on their laptop. She smiled at the familiar sight, realizing she’d almost forgotten the late-night regulars who claimed a chair until someone politely asked them to leave. And then her gaze continued on, quickly spottin
g the messy, light brown bun attached to slightly hunched, slim shoulders at the back counter. Mandy had her back turned to the front, undoubtedly trying to use the moment of quiet to get a little pre-cleaning done, and so hadn’t seen her.
“I’ll be with you in just a second!” Mandy called without looking over her shoulder as she scrubbed at something that seemed to have stained the counter.
Veronica came up to the register and leaned her hip against the counter sideways so that she could watch her friend as she teased, “I don’t know that I can wait that long, M.”
Mandy paused, lifted her hand and her head simultaneously, and turned a bit with a curious expression on her face. The curiosity lasted only a second before it was replaced with a bright smile and she called back, “Well you’re going to have to; we don’t give special treatment to the people who fall off the face of the earth after getting their shifts switched.” She threw in a wink for good measure.
“Need I remind you that you’re the one who went and got sick last week?” Veronica returned with a grin before honestly adding, “How are you feeling, by the way?”
“That doesn’t count,” Mandy insisted as she tossed the dirty rag into the back room and turned properly toward the counter. “And I’m just about all better now, unless you count the cough that never ends.”
Veronica shook her head as she straightened as well, saying, “I don’t. How’s night shift been treating you?”
“The same,” Mandy assured her. “Gonna tell me what you want?”
“No,” Veronica replied. “I’m going to make you guess.”
“Coconut caramel it is,” Mandy declared as she typed. “Usual size, and hot or cold?”
“Yes, hot,” Veronica ordered with a laugh. Mandy quoted her the employee-discounted price, Veronica handed over the cash, and the two moved toward the adjoining preparation counter.
“I thought Ali’s party would last longer than this,” Mandy said as she set about preparing Veronica’s drink.