CHAPTER FIVE
My apartment was small. My bathroom was across from my bedroom—I opened the door quietly, and peeked into the dark room, before hearing someone talking in my living room.
“Really now, the things you say,” said a female voice. The German invectives continued.
I ran down the hall and leapt into my living room, the plunger held high. “Who’s there?”
By the dim light of my reading lamp, I could see a young blond girl kneeling beside my couch. It took me a second to recognize her—Anna looked much older than when we’d last seen each other, ten days ago. Sweet sixteen was what the songs said, but what sixteen-year-old had ever thought that about themselves? She was playing tug-of-war with Minnie, using a piece of ribbon. She looked from the plunger to me and smiled, showing tiny triangles of fang.
She looked almost human, because she was. Kind of. Anna was a living vampire, the child of two daytimer parents, a vampire freak of nature, the girl whose life I’d helped to save.
Even though she was a vampire, I couldn’t help it—I was damn happy to see her. I went in for a hug.
“Put the stake down!” said a male voice from my kitchen.
“What?” I heard the sound of a gun being cocked.
“Gideon!” Anna chastised sharply. “It’s okay.”
“It’s okay? There’s a man in my kitchen with a gun.” I stood there, mid-lunge, holding my toilet plunger like a wizard’s wand.
“I’m sorry, Edie—” Anna waved at the man. “Gideon, please.”
The man, who was dressed so darkly I could barely differentiate him from my cabinets, let the gun slide release, tilting the gun’s barrel down.
“Thank you,” Anna said, nodding to him before looking back to me. Our huggy moment was gone. I set the plunger down.
“How’d you get in?”
“You invited me.”
Back when she had looked nine, yes, I had. “But the door was locked.”
“Gideon has many talents.”
“You couldn’t wait outside? Call? Knock?”
“We did knock. You didn’t hear us. Well, that German-speaking thing you keep did.”
“I was in the shower.” Grandfather was quiet now—but I felt slightly safer with him still on my kitchen counter, between Gideon and me. Grandfather would say something if that guy came any closer. I closed the neck of my robe tighter and sat on the far end of my couch. “When did you get all old?”
She smiled. “Once they started to feed me decently. I can control it, some.”
Anna looked like a student from a goth boarding school. A black clip held back her frizzy blond bangs, tamed for the first time since I’d met her, and she had a maroon turtleneck on, a pocket watch strung on a gold chain around her neck. A thick black felt skirt went down to her knees, where maroon tights began, sinking into warm winter boots. Most of the times I’d seen her before this, she’d been angry, wearing a ratty nightgown that had been spattered with other people’s blood.
“You look good,” I said, with a nod.
“I’m staying with Sike. She lets me borrow clothing.” Sike was a model acquaintance of us both. She was a daytimer, the servant of a vampire both Anna and I knew, and she’d be as comfortable stabbing someone with a stiletto as with a shiv.
Anna rose up to sit beside me and crinkled her nose. “You’re clean, but your house smells like blood and werewolf.”
No point in lying. “There’s a reason for that, but I can’t tell you about it. Patient privacy, et cetera.” I looked over at the stranger in my kitchen. How about some nurse privacy too? “Why’s he here?”
“Gideon’s my driver.”
“Oh.” I didn’t want to know why Anna needed a driver with a gun. Or rather, I did, but … Charles had had a point this afternoon. I wanted to ask her how she was, what had happened to her since she’d been gone, the sort of things you’d ask your friends if you hadn’t seen them for a little while. But most people’s friends weren’t vampires. I had already bought her a Christmas gift, though, just in case—
“Wait here, okay?” I asked, and left the room. I put my plunger away first and then went to my bedroom to find something to wear.
I wasn’t Christmas-coordinated enough to have a tree; there was hardly a point. When you lived alone plus worked night shift, the holidays just slid on by. But I had bought Anna a black scarf, because it seemed appropriate, and it was the kind of thing I would wear myself if I didn’t see her again.
With my hair pulled up and warmer clothing on, I returned to the living room and turned on the lights. Grandfather was still muttering at Gideon in the kitchen, who as far as I could see had put away his gun. I reached for the small pile of gifts on my kitchen countertop, and Gideon eyed me but didn’t draw. I returned to my spot on the couch. “I bought you something.”
“A gift?”
“For Christmas.” I handed her the box. She carefully opened the wrapping paper at the taped corners and straightened the creases, just like my grandmother, saving it for later. “I just realized I don’t even know if you get cold. But if you do, there you go,” I said lamely, as she parted the gift box to reveal the scarf inside.
“The winter here is nothing compared with the winters of my childhood.” She pulled the scarf out and wound it around her neck. Seeing as once upon a time she’d come from Russia, back when it was still called Russia, I believed her. She stroked the end of it and smiled at me. “I have something for you too.” She reached for a bag at her end of my couch and rummaged inside.
This was unexpected. Anna was the nicest vampire I’d met so far, but as vampires go, that was like saying she was the least alcoholic attendee at an AA meeting. I glanced over at Gideon, and there was an emotion I couldn’t name on his face—jealousy? Was he her daytimer? Why would a daytimer be jealous of me?
Anna turned back toward me, a small box on her lap. It was wooden and carved—it reminded me of the box the Evil Queen had given the hunter to put Snow White’s heart in.
“It’s not a gift, Edie. I’m sorry about that. I forgot it was Christmas,” Anna said, holding the box out.
“I kind of figured vampires didn’t go in for Christian holidays.” I took the box. It was heavy and ornate. The wood was dark, and there was a rose crest carved on the top and inlaid with gold, gold that I suspected was real, having met assorted members of the Rose Throne before. I fumbled around with the lid until I found the mechanism that slid it off. Underneath was a cream envelope of thick paper, and inside of that was a note with calligraphy so ornate as to be almost unintelligible. I tilted the card back and forth. “Just tell me where you’re registered.”
She snorted. “It’s a request for your attendance at my initiation ceremony. It’s on New Year’s Eve, at midnight.”
“Initiation into what?” I hedged. Holiday shifts were time and a half. I was in peanut-butter-sandwich mode, after having been out injured recently. Working Christmas and New Year’s were really going to help my bottom line.
“The Sanguine. They’re the the ruling council for the Rose Throne. It’s where they’ll approve me to begin my own line. I’ll be able to have my own House, under the auspices of the Rose Throne.”
“Anna—“I looked up to explain to her all the reasons why I couldn’t attend her vampire party, first and foremost being I didn’t want to be the only hors d’oeuvre in attendance. Then I saw the look on her face. “Oh, God. This is important, isn’t it?”
“I’m afraid so.” She pointed at what was left in the box.
I set the letter aside and reached in, finding a black velvet bag. I picked it up and a heavy object slid out.
It looked like a hunting knife. Its falling hilt made the box thump into my lap. The blade equaled the handle’s size, and it was as ornate as the letter’s calligraphy, with waves and flourishes curlicuing out, rendering it mostly useless, except for what I was sure was a very sharp tip. I picked it up gingerly. “This is one expensive party favor.”
&n
bsp; There was a real hourglass embedded in the hilt, but instead of being filled with sand, it was filled with blood. I tapped it, and it spun end-over-end, red fluid sloshing from side to side, to fill the lower chamber once the spinning stopped. The top chamber was still stained with blood, like a shaken test tube at County’s lab. “Is this your blood?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer. She nodded. “I don’t want to be a daytimer, Anna.”
The man in my kitchen gave a derisive snort.
“That’s why I’ve chosen you. Because I am part human, I have to bring a human to the ceremony with me. Not one I coerced—one I chose.” She reached over to press the knife down so I would look at her. “This knife has to stay intact until my ceremony. The temptation of my blood is a test. And you’re the only one I know who will pass it.”
My gaze went back to Gideon. If he were given a vial of Anna’s blood and she left the room, I wouldn’t bet on him managing to count to thirty before drinking its contents to acquire its power. I knew from taking care of daytimers at the hospital that all of their motives were nefarious by default. “What else does this entail?”
“Technically, when this is done you’ll belong to my court, as my Ambassador to the Sun.”
“I don’t suppose it pays?”
She snorted. “It’s only a ceremonial position, and only for one night.” She looked at me, her eyes softening. “I wouldn’t ask you if I had anyone else I could ask.”
I wondered how that made Gideon feel. I put the knife back into its bag very carefully, the bag into the box, and stared at its velvety softness. The man in my kitchen made a frustrated sound. He was hungry like all daytimers were hungry, for the power that their masters contained. Dogs on a leash, one and all.
“I know how you all fund yourselves. I won’t be a part of it.” Gambling, drugs, protection money—everything illicit trickled down into vampire pockets eventually. They were fat ticks on the neck of humanity. Anna’s seeming goodness aside, I couldn’t endorse that. I tried to hand the open box back to her, and she put up one hand to refuse it.
“Edie—you’re the only human I trust.” We’d both almost been killed recently, for the same end, by the same people. She’d rescued me then. It’d been more complicated than that, but—I looked from her to the box I held as she waited for me to decide. I wondered if she was holding her breath—if she even needed to breathe. She looked worried. Scared, even.
I couldn’t say no. Not even if I ought to. I set the box down on my own lap. “Don’t make me regret this, okay?”
“I won’t. I promise you.” She smiled at me, then stood and straightened her skirt, bending down to retrieve her hair ribbon from the ground. Minnie’s disembodied paw swatted out after it from her hiding spot beneath the couch. Gideon rounded my bar, crowding us in my small living room.
“Do I need to do anything in the meantime?”
Anna shook her head. “I’ll send my driver for you at eleven that night. I’ll be in seclusion until then. Call Sike if you need anything.” Anna reached out and grabbed my hand. Her skin was soft and cool as she squeezed it. “Thank you, Edie.”
“You’re welcome.” I squeezed her hand back. Gideon wove through us to open up the door. They left, and Grandfather muttered something I was sure was unkind.
I’d just pledged my help to a teenage-looking but hundred-year-old vampire whom I knew had a temper and a half. There was no way this could end badly, right?
CHAPTER SIX
The next morning I woke up at eight. I got up, peed, brushed my teeth, and took an Ambien, because I had to work that night. I didn’t like drugging myself to flip my sleep schedule back and forth, but it was better than being bleary all night. Or lying in bed, trying to sleep, and not managing to get any. My bed was warm, Minnie was nearby, and I already had food in the fridge for dinner and late dinner.
It was Christmas Eve day, not that you would know from looking at my house. It wasn’t that I didn’t celebrate holidays—although when you’re working most of them, it’s hard to get into a celebratory mood—I’d just been busy recently. There was a small fake tree at the top of my closet that I could have pulled out—but I’d missed my window right after Thanksgiving, and I’d been busy every day since then, mostly just trying to survive.
As I lay there, I could feel the sleep I’d just woke up from coming back for me. It was like the Ambien was lifting up the sheep-gate. Then my phone rang. I fumbled for it in the dark. “Hello?”
“Edie!”
Only my mother could sound that happy to talk to me. “Hey Momma.”
“We’ve had a change of plans.”
“Uh-huh.” I nuzzled my head back into the pillow.
“I know you’ve had a bit of a rough time recently, so instead of you driving all the way out here on Christmas Day, Peter and I are going to drive in to your place.”
I blinked into my mattress, then bit the inside of my lip to rouse myself. “What?”
“We’re having Christmas in town. It’ll make life so much easier for you.”
“No, it won’t. I’m working tonight, Mom. I was going to drive out to your place after my shift—”
“But see, this way you only have to come home—”
“And cook, and—” I rolled over in bed, now fighting to stay alert. “Mom, I don’t even have a table.”
“Jake told me about that. Said the glass on the old one had broken.”
“Oh really?” I asked archly. What’d happened was that my heroin-addict brother had pawned it for cash to get high—but even in my slightly drugged state, I had the wisdom to keep that to myself.
“So we’ll bring the card table in. There’s only the four of us. We’ll bring in everything we need. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”
Except for my mother and stepdad and junkie brother visiting my house, which had a ghost-possessed CD player and was a way stop for visiting vampires.
“Mom, really, it’s easier—”
“Tell her we’ll be there at eleven,” I heard a male voice shout from the background.
“We’ll be there at eleven A.M. I think that way we’ll miss the traffic,” my mother passed along.
“Mom, I not even going to remember this conversation when I get up.”
“Then write it down, dear. Love you!” she said, and then hung up before I could protest further.
I stayed conscious and disappointedly aware of my situation for another crucial alarm-setting thirty seconds. Then I drifted back to sleep.
* * *
When my alarm went off at five P.M., I had a few confused moments. Usually I set my alarm for six or seven. What time had I gone to bed the night before? I remembered Anna visiting, vaguely, and I could see the knife’s dark box on my dresser like a pirate’s treasure chest.
But there’d been something else. Something urgent.
“Oh, no.”
Christmas.
I didn’t care how trivial Mom pretended it would be. There was no way I would get off that easy.
I lurched upright in bed, shoving Minnie off the edge with my foot. “If I’m up, you’re up, cat.” I was still clean from the previous night’s shower. I had work tonight—but before going there, I had other work to do.
First thing, I cleaned my bathroom. I wasn’t usually very messy, but it’d been a long time since I’d cleaned like I cared. Second up—the bedroom. You could see right into it. And here, I had been lax. Clothing was strewn across my floor—the only clothes in the hamper were things that desperately needed to be cleaned. Like, say, my werewolf blood–stained coat from the day before. Fuck.
I pulled my clothing bag out of my hamper, shoved everything on the floor into it, grabbed the trash bag with my coat, and braced myself for an extreme investment of quarters as I lugged everything down to the laundry mat down the hall.
Returning, I went through the kitchen first. It wasn’t like I had much to do in the fridge—I could organize approximately one package each of turkey slices and
grape jelly just fine. I set a kettle to brewing for tea, so at least I’d have something to offer guests, and cleaned the inside of an old pitcher.
Last but not least, was my living room. Once upon a time I’d had a dining room set, which’d been nice. But the set was gone now, when the couch ought to be.
I inspected the bloodstained side of my couch, a souvenir of the time Anna had spent here. I’d tried to clean things up with hydrogen peroxide, but that’d ruined the ornamental floral pattern something fierce. So I’d turned the cushions over, but there was still a stain on part of the side, and a bleached spot to boot. Neither stain was blatant, but my mother had a way of seeing through things—with the exception of my brother, Jake. I knew I couldn’t come up with a good-enough lie on the spot.
So that meant … shopping for a couch cover. With my last forty dollars from this paycheck. On Christmas Eve.
Dismayed, I set out for Target.
CHAPTER SEVEN
On my way out the door, I stopped and grabbed Anna’s knife. My brother had a lifelong penchant for going through my things. New couch covers could be explained away, but fancy cutlery could not. I decided to toss it in my locker at work for a few nights. It was three times as secure there as anything in my house would be on Christmas Day. I left the fancy box behind on my dresser, settling the knife into the bottom of my purse, wrapped in a hand towel, and had a few crazy thoughts about how exactly I’d explain it away if I got pulled over on my drive in.
Only no one was out ticketing people on Christmas Eve night. They—and by they, I meant everyone—were at Target, desperately shopping.
Packed to the gills did not begin to describe it. I parked my Cavalier out in a satellite parking location, and then hiked into the store.
Throngs of shoppers milled around, none of them looking any happier than me. I was lucky, I supposed—I wasn’t going to the toy aisle. I wove my way to homewares and stood in front of the couch cover zone, in do-it-yourself home-decorating land.
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