by Mary Hughes
Sneaking up the stairs, me sloshing the bucket of water and Thor silent with the bag of ice, we found ourselves in a broad hallway, slanted roof on either side, single window behind letting in soft, diffuse moonlight.
One door ahead of us, closed. Snoring like a buzz-saw came from behind it. My brother’s friend was asleep. Yes.
I set down my bucket and motioned Thor to add the ice.
He pulled a knife from inside his vest, slit the bag, then tucked the blade back with an ease that spoke of long use. Lifting the bag, he prepared to dump the ice.
“Wait,” I whispered, although with the snoring filling the hallway, I had to raise my voice until it was more like a hoarse shout. “That’ll make too much noise.”
“As if talking doesn’t?” he whisper-shouted back.
I gave him a short, sharp glare. When he only laughed silently—or maybe just quieter than the jet-engine snore—I punched his arm. That shut his laugh down into a smirk. Funny guy.
He set the bag down, and we scooped ice from it, gently sliding cubes into the water. The liquid sloshed the ice against the bucket’s metal sides with a soft clang.
The snoring cut.
Jocko had woken?
I froze, certain we were about to get discovered—and wondering how the hell he’d heard that over the buzz saw. Boy, next time I was using a plastic pail. If there was a next time, which there certainly wouldn’t be, because I was right and Thor was wrong. Lucky Serendipity who could pull a prank and scamper away without getting caught was gone, booted out by staid, boring Sera.
While I agonized, the snoring started up again, cutting back in as if Bruno’s friend had simply put his saw on pause.
I released a breath I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding.
Thor hefted the bucket, and I tiptoed to the door, put my hand silently on the knob and slowly turned it. The latch silently retracted. I cracked the door to peek in.
It sounded like a Foley artist on fright night. Cre-e-eak! My heart leaped into my throat and pounded double time.
The snoring cut. I waited. A whump, as if Jocko had changed sides on a straw mattress, then the snoring started again. With the door open, it went from buzz saw to jet engine. I pitied whoever the man married. She’d have to get industrial strength ear plugs—or maybe just stuff her ear canals with sheep.
Sometimes hinges squeal because the door is actually opened too slowly, so I opened it the rest of the way with a confident push.
Maybe Serendipity wasn’t dead, because the door swung easily, revealing a shaft of moonlight spotlighting a lump under a woven white bedspread.
The room was small, with dormer windows in a slanting roof and a closet in one corner, its door ajar.
While Thor glided inside with the bucket, I got out my phone, activating the camera. I’d already set it on video.
Carrying the bucket carefully, he tiptoed to the bed, where my brother’s friend hunkered under the covers, his snoring visibly vibrating the ruffles at the edge. Hopefully Bruno hadn’t told him when we were coming, and Jocko wasn’t faking it. Only real surprise would make a prize-winning prank.
Thor lifted the bucket.
I stifled my giggles as I aimed the phone. Here it comes…
He dumped. Water and ice sluiced onto white weave.
The snoring cut. A yelp came from under the covers, followed by a girly scream and covers being tossed like a salad as the cold water penetrated weave.
“April Fools,” Thor said.
Another round of giggles bubbled up inside me. I ruthlessly suppressed it, all my concentration on holding the phone straight and steady. So I only saw what happened as a sort of fictitious movie, didn’t process it immediately as actually real.
An arm surfaced from the covers with a wet slap. The head of our hapless victim rose, round face glistening with water, eyes covered by a Law & Order sleep mask, surrounded by freckled skin and topped by a thatch of flame-red hair.
Alarms went off in my head, but I was focused on filming and didn’t process fast enough.
Thor stepped back, bucket under one brawny arm as my brother’s friend sat bolt upright, hand going to the sleep mask.
“Whoever you are, you’re under arrest and going to jail!”
That cut through. Officer Titus? But how had he gotten into Jocko’s bed?
One thing was clear—he was wet and so mad he was steaming, and that “jail” he so casually mentioned was a three-cell converted greenhouse with a lovely east view of the sunrise to die for—literally die, for a vampire. In that jail, come morning, Thor would be a charcoal briquette.
And like Jenny, I’d get off scot-free.
Never again.
I ran to the side of the bed, shoved my phone at Thor, and tried to grab the bucket from him.
He wouldn’t let go.
“Give,” I hissed.
Titus tore off the mask, but he was looking straight ahead, straggling wet hair in his eyes, blinking as if he couldn’t see. He wiped his eyes.
Thor wouldn’t give so I released the bucket to yank the hem of my shirt and bra up over my breasts.
They waved Hi at him
He goggled, his hands going slack. Yes. I seized the bucket and yanked my top down one-handed just as Titus twisted and saw us, standing side-by-side like Tweedle-Squeaky and Tweedle-Clean, next to his bed.
Thor’s gaze tracked the bucket like he’d actually try to grab it back. I mimed lifting my top for another titty-wave right in front of Titus. With a mutinous scowl, the Viking backed off.
“You. You!” The young officer pointed, his face drawn with outrage—at Thor. “Thorsson, you’re under arrest.”
“Why?” I said.
“Wh-why?” he stuttered with rage. “Well, for assaulting an officer.”
“It wasn’t assault,” Thor said reasonably. “It was an April Fools prank.”
“Prank?” Titus grabbed a handful of ice cubes from the mess on his covers and shoved the pile toward Thor’s face, missing by a couple feet or so. “This says otherwise.”
“Lighten up,” I said. “It’s just water. Although Meiers Corners does have hard water.” I elbowed Thor. “Get it? ‘Hard’ water.”
“Not funny,” Titus snarled. “Thorvald Thorsson, you’re going to jail.”
Vampire, greenhouse. Why did my stunts never backfire on me? I held up the bucket. “But I was the one who—”
“What I can’t figure out,” Thor said with a small, sharp shake of his head at me. “Where is Jocko? We were playing the prank on him.”
“Who? Look, this is may house and only I live here.”
I blinked. “Isn’t this 892?”
“No, it’s 862! What are you people, blind as well as stupid?”
“Ha-ha, April Fools!” From the closet came another male voice. The door opened and a second version of Officer Titus emerged that was astoundingly younger, redder, more freckled—and apparently actually had a sense of humor. He held a phone pointed at all of us.
“Frank?” Titus scowled. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Who’s this?” I asked, less because I wanted to know and more because I needed to distract Titus from arresting anyone with a sun sensitivity.
“I’m his brother.” Younger-Titus grinned. “Frank Titus, winner of this year’s Meiers Corners’s April Fools’ Day competition. I inverted the six into a nine on the house, trying to prank the mail carrier, but he didn’t even look when he delivered the mail.” Frank shrugged. “The guy knows his route.”
“He knows me,” Titus said. “I give him Christmas gift cards. Five bucks, every year.”
Generous, for Meiers Corners, where shoes still cost five dollars and dresses were under ten.
Frank nodded. “So, I hid in the closet, and I was going to scare you after you fell asleep, but before I could these guys came. This is even better! You two confused the address and pranked my brother, but because I switched the house number, I pranked the pranksters. I’ll win fo
r sure.”
I suppressed a groan. He was probably right. Unless I could think of something better in the next fifteen minutes, he’d win and there went my job.
“Who cares, Frank? I was assaulted.” Titus threw his mask onto the nightstand, drew his gun from under his pillow, and got to his feet. He waved the gun at my partner. “This guy assaulted me—no, he assaulted an officer of the law. I’m taking him in.” He reached with his other hand for Thor’s wrist.
Thor’s eyes, tracking the gun, were light violet, and the tips of his fangs started poking from between his lips. That did not bode well for Officer Titus.
Panic splashed hot into my system. “Wait! I did it. You didn’t see clearly. I threw the ice.”
“Sera.” Thor’s violet gaze cut to me.
I ignored him. “I’m the one. See? I’ve got a bucket. Take me.”
“Fine. Thorsson, you’re off the hook.” The young officer grabbed my wrist.
“No,” Thor said in that skull-banging tone that meant vampire compulsion. “Sera and I weren’t here. You didn’t see us. You had a wet dream.”
“Wet dream,” brother Frank echoed.
But Titus just shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, Thorsson, but I’ve had it up to here.” He leveled a hand at his eyebrows. “I’m arresting someone, and I don’t give a damn who it is.”
“Me!” I flung my hand in the air like a first grader. “Arrest me.”
Thor’s gaze flicked between us, eyes wide with surprise. “Faen take it, you’re both immune?” In his shock, he wasn’t really talking to either of us.
I used his distraction to thrust my wrists under the young officer’s nose. “I’ll go peaceably.”
Titus must’ve liked that idea because he grabbed my arms. “Sera Braun, you’re under arrest for assaulting an officer.” He hauled me out of the room and down the stairs. “You have the right to remain silent.”
I broke in. “Officer—”
“If you give up that right, anything you say can be used against you.” He dragged me to the kitchen door.
“But Officer—”
“Do you want to give up that right?” He stopped and glared at me.
“Well, no. Except for one question. Aren’t you going to put on pants?”
Chapter Eight
“Now what are we doing to do?” I clunked my head against the old-fashioned metal bars of the holding cell’s door.
The converted greenhouse was called a jail, but the three cells were actually more holding areas. My cell consisted of three institutional cinder block walls painted a washable glossy blue, a metal, box-like bench running the length of one wall, and a metal comfort station. Each area was accessed through the traditional barred door. There used to be a monitoring station, but that was removed when the security camera was added.
The single piece of good news was, I was the only one in jail right now. “Judging starts in an hour. Unless we come up with an alternate prank, we’ll lose. How long until my bail comes?”
“It’s one hour to midnight on April Fools’ Day in Meiers Corners.” Thor paced outside my jail cell. “How long do you think it’ll take?”
“Right.” Everyone was either busy getting last-second pranks played or polishing their acceptance speech. My bail wasn’t coming.
Even Officer Titus had locked me in here then lit out, mumbling about getting proper credit for his brother’s prank.
So I was shocked when Camille sailed into the converted greenhouse, carrying a zippered money bag.
Thor spun. “Boss?”
“You have my bail?” I grabbed the bars and leaned forward in hope.
“I have some of it.” She joggled the bag at me. “What cash is left after you raided the kitty to bail out Jenny.”
I groaned. My good deed had come back to bite me.
She handed the bag off to Thor. “I’ll try to get the rest, but it won’t be before midnight.” She tsked. “I give you two one simple task, win the April Fools contest to showcase Nieman’s Bar, and you not only fail—you give the competition the win!”
Thor crossed his arms. “In our defense, that wasn’t a simple task. Not in this town.”
“Besides, Frank hasn’t won yet,” I finished lamely.
Camille rolled her eyes. “If he doesn’t, Bo will. Or that Phillie woman. What kind of name is that? It should be on a cheese-steak sandwich. You.” She pointed at me before I could hope she’d traipsed off onto a less dangerous topic. “You failed. I said I’d fire you, and as a Meiers Corners vam…I mean businessperson—“
“I know what you are. What you and Thor are.” My tone was as weary as I felt. I knew what was coming, and I’d blurted the truth more out of a need to interrupt her than for her to know.
She exchanged a glance with Thor.
He nodded. “She’s immune, too.”
“Another one? Wonderful. The point is, I’m learning to do what I say I’ll do.” Her voice turned hard. “Turn in your dirndl on Monday.” Her gaze softened. “For what it’s worth, I enjoyed having you at Nieman’s.”
I sagged against the bars. I’d done the right thing, taking the fall for Thor and going to jail. But we’d been outpranked, and now we’d lose. Worse, I’d lose my job at Nieman’s be unable to keep a close eye on Granny, not without tipping her off. I’d rarely set foot in the bar on a week night before this. I’d have to come up with a plausible excuse for suddenly developing a nightly beer habit.
Thor could be my excuse.
My whole night brightened at the thought, inappropriate, but there it was. The world, or at least my world, was a better place with him in it.
“Camille, no,” Thor said. “You can’t fire her without firing me, too.”
She scowled. “I said that, didn’t I? But I can’t fire you. Fuck.” She tapped one high-heeled foot, staring at him. Again, her gaze softened. “Double fuck. You care about her, don’t you?”
At his firm nod, her spine straightened.
“All right, since, as an Alliance vam…you-know-what, I do what I say I’ll do. So, you’re both fired. And now I’m rehiring you—on probation.”
I sucked in a shocked, hopeful breath. “Really?”
“Well, without the contest win I can’t afford to pay you. Either of you. And you’ll have to use whatever tips you get to pay back tonight’s bail. But Thor, you’ll have a place to live, and Sera, you’ll have an excuse to watch your granny and keep her safe. Good?”
I was momentarily speechless, amazed she’d figured that out about me watching Granny.
But when she repeated, “Are we good?” and her narrowed gaze twitched from Thor to me and back, there was only one response.
We both nodded.
“Good. I’ll send Titus back. Maybe he’ll process you with partial bail.” She spun and swept out.
Cautiously, I released my breath.
Thor watched her, his expression unreadable. Then he shook his head. “I didn’t trust her. I didn’t think she had a sympathetic bone in her body.” His gaze shifted to me and warmed. “But that was unexpectedly kind.”
“Emphasis on unexpected.” Lack of sleep and emotional turmoil from the past few days hit me. I’d be relieved and grateful later, but right now I wanted a bit of a sulk. It would take months to earn Granny’s dance class money on tips alone. And all the while, I’d have to keep my impish side on a short leash.
Which meant no more wild child and making love with Thor on the bar. Or anywhere fun.
Fun. I frowned. All work and no play suddenly wasn’t looking like Trustworthy and Reliable, but Sourpuss-ish and Killjoy-ey.
Thor set the money bag in a corner. “I couldn’t ask you until we were alone, but how long have you known you’re immune?”
The question caught me mid-sulk. I jerked a shrug. “Does it matter?”
“How long, not really.” He stopped pacing to come to the bars, grabbed two, and leaned in. “That you’re immune though…well, it has implications. Ramifi
cations.”
“Listen to you, using all those big words.” I kicked a bar, stubbing my toe. Pain rang, no more than I deserved for being pissy. Well, at least the right trouble-maker was suffering this time.
“Sera, I didn’t say anything to you before because I didn’t think we could go anywhere with it, but…well, I’m attracted to you.”
“That much I figured it out.” I raised one eyebrow, trying a sarcastic “yuh think?” face, but from his confused expression I have a feeling it only came off looking like I had indigestion. “I knew you were attracted when you showed me yours on the bar.”
His expression cleared. “Yes, all right, but that was sex. I mean…more.”
My heart lurched. If he’d said something before I’d reluctantly packed fun, wild Serendipity back in the box…but he hadn’t. “You were right in the first place. Whatever you’re feeling, it can’t be more, because a relationship between you and me can’t go anywhere. We’re too different.”
His face got pensive, and he shoved away from the bars. “You may be right.”
A heavy weight settled in my stomach. Despite everything, I think I was hoping he’d say, “No, you’re wrong,” or, “I’m sorry you feel that way.”
He not only didn’t say that, the way he distanced himself quickly and turned away changed the weight in my middle to a sullen cloud. I turned away too.
“But.” Hands wrapped around my shoulders. “We should make absolutely certain we’re not compatible.”
He’d whispered it in my ear, breath tickling the lobe.
I spun in his grip. Six-three of hardbodied Viking was right on top of me. Not face pressed through the bars, but inside the cell with me. I wheezed a shocked, “Wha…?” expelling all my air. None came to replace it.
With just enough presence of mind, my gaze flicked to the monitor camera. It was askew. He’d apparently turned away, not to distance himself, but to knock the electronic eye off this cell.
And then he was kissing me, arms wrapped around me, holding me closer than “I’m attracted,” hugging me tighter than, “I want you” and zinging straight into melding hearts and joy.