by Gayla Twist
“How do vampires get all their money?” I asked. I was barely scraping along with my pay from the diner and really would have preferred a lavish castle instead of my Uncle Kevin’s house, even with the recent improvements.
“Some earn it,” he said, still encircling me with his arms. “And some steal it. The Vanderlind family was quite wealthy, even before my grandfather was turned into a vampire, so that was helpful. And since then we have been able to amass more wealth through investments.”
“There are vampire stockbrokers?” I asked, turning my head so I could look up at him. Every time I saw Dorian, I had to take a moment to marvel at how handsome he was. It border on the ridiculous.
“A few,” he told me. “But mostly we just have mortal brokers who are highly motivated to make sure we keep earning money.”
“Oh.” I could almost hear the air-quotes hanging around the words highly motivated. I didn’t have that much money. Less than a thousand dollars probably wasn’t enough to bother a stockbroker. Even a highly motivated one. “So how does a vampire like me make money?” I asked. “I mean, I earn money at the diner, but it’s really not enough to afford anything like this.” I said, gesturing toward the lavish furnishings of the bedroom. I actually didn’t even need something that lavish. I just wanted something a little nicer than a twin bed wedged into a closet.
“You don’t need to worry about any of that,” Dorian told me, sitting up and causing me to shift into a sitting position.
There had never been one point in my life when I didn’t have to worry about money. It was one of my earliest childhood memories. I didn’t know if Dorian meant that he would set me up with a financial planner or what. “Why not?” I asked him.
“Because it’s all taken care of,” he said, straightening his shirt and not meeting my eye.
“By who?” I wanted to know.
“By me, of course,” Dorian said, getting to his feet. “You are my progeny. That means you are practically a member of the Vanderlind family. I’ll not have you running around rural Ohio with no good clothes and scarcely a place to rest your head.”
“Oh, no.” I rolled my eyes. “You’re not going to start up with that whole, ‘I am your maker’ thing again. Are you?”
“I am your maker,” he insisted. “I am responsible for your welfare. At least for the next fifty years or so. And you need looking after. That was made abundantly clear last night. I am ashamed of myself for neglecting you. I shudder to think of what could have happened to you.”
“I was fine,” I assured him, also getting to my feet. “I know how to take care of myself. I’ve been doing it my whole life.” Dorian was super-hot and I couldn’t help being attracted to him, but I was in no mood for him to start trying to boss me around again. He was making a lot of assumptions that made me very uncomfortable.
“Yes, you were obviously doing a wonderful job taking care of yourself,” he snapped. “Feeding off of sleazy men in dark alleys. That’s no way for the progeny of a Vanderlind to behave. From now on there will be no more of that. You’ll feed in a civilized manner and you’ll stay here with me. Or at one of my homes in Europe, if we go back there.”
Dorian was very good at making pronouncements, but he wasn’t very good at asking me what I wanted. And that really annoyed me. Plus I didn’t trust him. I didn’t trust anyone who was offering to take care of me. I’d had my heart broken plenty of times between foster parents and my own crazy mother.
“What are you saying?” I asked, eyeing him suspiciously.
“I’m saying that it’s time to cut out the nonsense. You’ve had your little adventure at being independent, but that’s over with now. It’s time for me to take care of you.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What if I don’t trust you?”
Dorian looked surprised. I had obviously caught him off guard. “Why wouldn’t you trust me? I am your maker. I am the person whom you can trust most in the world.”
“And what if I annoy you again?” I asked, folding my arms and glaring at him. “What if I don’t obey your every whim and proclamation? Don’t think I’ve forgot about you showing up to my Winter Formal with a sharp stake in your pocket. Why are things suddenly different now?” I demanded. “Why should I trust you?’
“Because…” Dorian thundered, but then he stopped short. “Because…” he said in a much quieter voice, looking down and shaking his head. “Things are different now,” he told me, sounding almost wounded.
“How are they different?” I wanted to know. One flying lesson and a little cuddling wasn’t exactly a guarantee against violence.
Dorian looked up at me, his gray eyes wide and vulnerable. “I thought,” he began, but then he shook his head. “No, never mind.”
“No, you should tell me,” I insisted. “What?”
“I thought that we’d shared something that we obviously haven’t shared,” he said in a quiet voice. “That was my mistake.”
He cares about me, I thought with astonishment. It wasn’t just my wishful thinking. Dorian Vanderlind actually cared about me. I opened my mouth to tell him that he wasn’t mistaken. We had shared something; there was something between us. But before I could compose the right words to say, Dorian kept talking.
“If you prefer living rough and derive pleasure from feeding off of sleazy men, then I won’t try to stop you. But I would like to continue your training while I remain in Tiburon. You should at least know how to anticipate the dawn.”
I couldn’t believe he had the nerve to insult me. Oh yeah, I absolutely loved scraping by for food and trying not to murder my friend and her entire family. That was obviously a lifestyle that I was happy with. “Don’t worry about me,” I snarled. “I’ll be perfectly fine. I’m sorry I inconvenienced you with my low class behavior. Not everyone is born with a silver spoon in their mouth.”
“That’s not what I was saying,” Dorian insisted.
“Really?” I fired back, feigning surprise. “Because those were the words coming out of your mouth.” I began storming toward the door.
“Haley, please wait,” Dorian said, reaching for my arm.
“No,” I said, jerking away from him. “I have to go now or I’ll be late for work.” Then I wheeled around to glare at him. “You see, some of us have this thing called a job. And we do it to make money. We don’t have wads of cash just handed to us while we’re still in our cradle.”
“Haley!” Dorian tried to say something else, but I didn’t hear him. I was too busy running out the door and fleeing the castle.
I took to the skies as soon and I was out of the castle gate. I didn’t worry about the staff seeing me flutter off. If they hadn’t already realized that they were working for a bunch of bloodsuckers, then they were in for a rude awakening. I just had to get out of there. Otherwise I was going to burst into tears and I didn’t want Dorian to see me cry. He didn’t deserve my tears. He was obviously some kind of control-freak and I wished I could find away to drive him from my heart.
“Why don’t I ever learn?” I had to wonder about myself as I flew along. Was I really so stupid as to believe that a wealthy and handsome vampire actually cared about my well being? That was almost worse than me believing Tommy when he said, “I love you,” as a thinly veiled ploy to get into my pants.
And what was with Dorian and the whole, “I need to take care of you,” business? It was almost like he thought of me as a pet Pomeranian or something. I wiped at my eyes, trying to keep the tears back and blaming them on the cold night air. We’d shared a nice moment in the ballroom. That was all. I was grateful to Dorian for teaching me how to fly without being snagged by the treetops and tangled in power lines. But a nice moment was all it was for him and a nice moment was all I would allow it to be for me. I guess I’d spent too much time as a mortal reading romantic novels. Dashing young men didn’t come to the rescue. Rich men didn’t fall head-over-heels for the poor little match girl. That wasn’t how the world worked. At least not for people like me. And t
he sooner I got that idea through my thick skull, the better off I would be.
If I ever saw Dorian again, I would just have to remind myself that he was never going to care about me. He might have felt some obligation to help me. Hell, even a person like my Uncle Kevin could be guilted into feeling some responsibility for another human being. But Dorian only felt obligated because he was my maker.
He had offered to help me financially. That was worth thinking about. Was I so proud that I was willing to turn away a hand-up? Even if the hand-up came from a vampire who was able to elicit both rage and passion from me, usually at the same time. My gut said no. Better to live on the streets than to take charity from the likes of Dorian. But following my gut wasn’t always the right thing to do. My gut had a way of getting me in trouble.
Or did I usually land in trouble when I ignored my gut? That was another thing to ponder. And just as I was beginning to ponder it, I realized I was about to crash into a cell tower.
I had a new motto to live by. Back when I was a human it should have been: Don’t text and drive. But I was a vampire so things had changed a little. My new motto was going to be: Don’t fly while thinking about Dorian Vanderlind.
Chapter 11
Haley
“There was a young man here looking for you last night,” Debbie said as I tied on my apron after punching in to start my shift at the diner. “A real looker, too. I don’t usually go for men with blond hair — I’m more of an Elvis fan — but for him I would make an exception.”
“Okay, thanks,” I told her, trying to keep my reply as vague as possible. I didn’t want Debbie asking me a million questions about Dorian. As a matter of fact, I didn’t want to think about Dorian at all.
“And there’s a woman over in the corner who’s been asking for you. She’s been here since the sun went down, taking up a whole booth and just milking one lousy cup of tea,” Debbie groused. “I don’t mind you having friends come by, but see if you can at least get her to order something.”
“Okay.” I frowned. Who would come in to see me? It couldn’t be Erica. Debbie wouldn’t have called her a woman. Did my mom get sprung from the looney bin? I headed out into the dining area to see.
I spotted the woman immediately. She was stretched out in the booth like she was the queen of Sheba or something. She was clad all in tight black leather and her bright red hair was styled in a Medusa of corkscrew curls. I could instantly tell that she was a member of the undead just by the intensity of her eyes. Debbie must have somehow invited her in. My boss lived above the diner so I’d always felt I was reasonably safe from undead visitors patroning the place, but that had been a foolish assumption.
“Hello,” I said, after squaring my shoulders and walking up to the table. “Can I get you something to eat or just the check for your tea?”
The woman practically glowered at me. “Are you Haley Scott?” she asked.
I did some fast thinking. If I could tell she was a vampire, then she probably had a pretty good idea that I was one too. Lying and saying I wasn’t Haley would only cause her to hang around the diner more and that was something I definitely did not want. It was better just to own up to being me and see where she took things. “Yes.” I nodded. “I’m Haley Scott. Who are you?”
“I’m an old friend of Dorian Vanderlind,” she said, a menacing sneer spreading tightly across her cherry red lips, which must have been her imitation of a smile. “He had a lot to say about you the last time I saw him. I thought I might like to come and have a look for myself.”
I felt myself bristle. Who the hell was this woman and why had Dorian felt the need to gossip to her about me?
“Really?” I said stiffly. “He hasn’t mentioned a thing about you.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” she went on, examining the polish on one of her perfectly painted red nails. “You two aren’t exactly close.”
For some reason this comment got my back up. Who was she to come into my diner and tell me about my relationship with Dorian? So I feigned a perplexed looked and said, “We’re not? Then I guess it’s kind of strange that I spent all of today in his arms.”
The vampiress looked surprised and then I saw anger flash across her brow. She quickly suppressed it to feign indifference. “I don’t know what it is about those Vanderlind boys,” she said, peeling a few twenties off of a fat roll of cash that she’d pulled out of her coat pocket. “They could have anyone in the world that they want, and yet they always choose…” She waved a vague hand in my direction as if that explained everything. Then she shrugged. “But I guess there’s no accounting for taste.” The vampiress dropped the notes on the table as if she was tossing out a soiled tissue. And then she sashayed out of the diner, hips swinging.
It was nice to know that some women could be as bitchy in the undead world as they had been when they were alive.
I could not believe that Dorian had been off spreading gossip about me all over Europe while I was struggling on my own trying to figure out how to be a vampire without also becoming a serial killer. What a jerk! He was almost as bad as Tommy and Sheila and the rest of those buttholes. But at least he wasn’t running around Europe bragging to a bunch of people that he had slept with me. Not that any of the undead of Europe would care if Dorian had nailed some small town chick in Ohio. But the thing was, we hadn’t been together. Not even close. So why was he gossiping about me? And why had anyone bothered to listen?
The whole thing just smacked of Tommy. And I really didn’t need more of that in my life. Or in my death. Or whatever vampires called it.
I spent the better part of my shift feeling bent out of shape. Things had been so wonderful with Dorian in the ballroom. But I was an idiot for getting sucked in. He obviously didn’t care. I had to forget about the charming Mr. Vanderlind and just focus on my life and what I wanted to do with it. My short-term plan was simple: Step one: Revenge. Step two: Get the hell out of town.
Focusing on my goals became a lot easier when Tommy and a couple of his jock buddies stumbled into the diner reeking of beer. There was only about twenty minutes left before closing, but it was enough time for teenage boys to wolf down burgers and fries. At first I cringed at the thought of going up to their booth and dealing with their moronic comments and crass jokes. But that was the old me, back when I was a mortal. As a creature of the night, I could kill all three of them without even breaking a sweat. Somehow just knowing that gave me confidence. I had been so wound up about Dorian, and feeding myself, and being a vampire, and survival, that I had put my revenge against Tommy on hold. But those days were over. It was time to turn the tables on Tommy Sherman and make him as miserable as he had made me.
I wasn’t going to kill him. That would have been too much revenge for his crime. But I was going to make Tommy feel so miserable that the experience would permanently scar his high school years. That or I would smash his knee so he couldn’t play football. I couldn’t decide which.
“Hi Tommy. Guys,” I said as I approached their table and handed out the menus. I made my eyes more intense without actually crossing over into using my influence on them. I was just trying to make myself as attractive as possible. “Do you know what you’d like to order or do you need a few minutes?”
“Hhhaley,” Tommy said, his voice a little slurry. His eyes roved up and down the new curves of my body. “You’re looking good. Where have you been?” Before I had a chance to answer, he went on with, “I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.” He turned to look at his friends. “Wasn’t I just saying that I wanted to hang out with Haley?”
His friends readily agreed, leering at me.
“I’ve been right here,” I told him. “Here or at home, sitting by the phone, waiting for you to call.” I batted my eyes in an overly obvious fashion.
“Really?” Tommy sat up a little straighter. Apparently he didn’t understand sarcasm. “Then maybe you want to hang out after work. What time do you want to get off?” He shot his friends a look and the
n corrected himself. “I mean, what time do you get off?”
His jock buddies cracked up and elbowed each other under the table.
“No, not really,” I said, unable to sustain the charade. “You know you’ve been a real ass to me. Don’t you?”
Tommy scrunched his face. “That was all a big misunderstanding,” he said, swatting his hand through the air. “It’s really Sheila’s fault. She’s kind of crazy and I just didn’t know how to handle it.”
I found it stunning how easily Tommy could dump all the blame onto somebody else. Especially the girl he was dating.
“Why don’t you let me take you out after you get off work so I can make it up to you?” Tommy asked, giving me a trust-me grin.
I folded my arms and pretended to pout. “And just why should I forgive you?” I said it in a pouty way that let him know I was willing to forgive him.
“Because I’m a good guy. You’ve just got the wrong impression of me.” Tommy spread his arms expansively. “Actually, I’m a great guy. Why don’t you give me another chance so I can prove it to you?”
And that was how the assholes of the world kept procreating, because girls were always willing to give them another chance.
If I was actually thinking of Tommy’s offer as a real date, I would have said no. I’d learned my lesson the hard way about guys like him. But I wasn’t trying to date Tommy. I was trying to make him miserable. And agreeing to another date was a good way to get started. “Tonight isn’t good for me,” I told him, keeping my cool, like he still had to win me over. “But you can pick me up tomorrow night if you’re really serious about making it up to me.” I gave him a sultry look, heat emanating from my eyes.
Tommy’s jaw practically hit the table. “Okay,” he managed to stammer.
“Pick me up at seven,” I told him. Then I wrote up their order on my pad. “I’ll get those burgers, fries and shakes right out to you,” I said, letting my gaze linger a little longer on Tommy before turning and walking away. The boys hadn’t actually ordered anything, but I figured I might as well get a nice order in for Debbie and I doubted Tommy and his friends would protest.