Chapter Four
I needed to keep my distance from Rikare—easy when he cranked up the volume on hard-assed workaholic FBI agent.
So when I looked up in the cab and caught him eyeing me in a sympathetic manner, I tried desperately to refortify our wall. I’d learned early that officials puffed up on their own authority don’t like needling. “What does Seb stand for, anyway? Sebastian? Sebariah? Little Sebby and you make cakes?”
“Why don’t you like your hometown?”
My heart stopped briefly. As ripostes went, it was stunningly on target. I’d been gnawing on that all the way here, girding myself to cope with both Derek and the Corners in all its eccentric glory. “Long story,” I said finally. “As lovers, we’ll also need to trot out an endearment or nickname every so often, to reinforce the cover. How about you call me darling, and I call you sweetie?”
That sarcastic brow raised again. “You really think people will buy me as a sweetie?”
“No.” In fact, people wouldn’t buy him as anything but fiercely competent, which struck me. Rikare didn’t really need a “girlfriend” to execute an undercover visit to Meiers Corners, unless there was more going on.
Like v-guy stuff?
Well, crap.
Most of the world didn’t know boo about the vamps right under their noses.
Meiers Corners was unique, and not just because it was stubbornly its own little town despite being in Chicago’s shadow.
No, because someone had dropped drugs into the Meiers River decades ago, half the town was immune to vampire mind control, and about a quarter of us either suspected or knew vamps were real.
Rikare needed to know that.
I checked out Mr. Prickly. He held himself as rigidly as a Marine. Still, what he didn’t know could hurt him. Courage.
“Okay, now don’t get huffy. I know it’s all hush-hush most places, but I have to tell you—in my little hometown, guys with fangy overbites aren’t such a big secret.”
“Guys with…” His gaze snapped to mine. “I don’t know what you mean.”
I watched him carefully as I spelled it out. “Vampires.”
“There are no such things.” Rikare painted his face with the right blend of aggravated patience as he said all the right words—but the dusky patches of embarrassment on his high cheekbones told a different story.
If I’d sketched him right then, he’d be all tense, jaggy lines.
Even if I hadn’t guessed he was a vampire, that would have shouted it as fact. I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re lying.”
He twitched, almost unnoticeable.
“Nobody’s going to call you on it, don’t worry. The ones who know pretend it’s still a secret. Unless you do your v-guy woo-woo”—I put my wrist to my forehead and wiggled my fingers like rays of mind control—“you’ll be okay.”
He stared at me, as horrified as stone can be. “You think I’m a vampire?”
“Isn’t it obvious? Your height, your strength, the way you move, the way you mesmerize people just by breathing…I mean, your unnatural good looks.”
His cheeks darkened. “I’m not that handsome, and my body is from strict diet and exercise. I’m not a vamp—”
“Don’t,” I cut him off flatly. “I dated a v-guy. I know what I’m talking about, and I’m not dense.”
His gaze drilled into me, raising the hairs on my nape as the streets went from a semi-grid to graph-paper straight, a hallmark of our little city. Even the Meiers River that flows through the middle of town runs straight north to south. I’m not sure if the founding mothers and fathers settled in Meiers Corners because they liked the feng shui or they dredged the thing until it fell in with their perception of pleasing.
The taxi slowed to a crawl as we passed the first of many neighborhood bars. By this time, my nape hairs were on fire from his narrow stare.
Finally, he said, “You dated a v-guy.”
“Yeah. That’s the code among townsfolk in the know. V-guy or -gal, fangy persuasion, stuff like that. It’s screwy, but it seems to work.”
He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I have a job to do. As do you.”
That was probably as close to an admission that he was a vampire as I’d get. “Okay. Job to do. So, do you want to tell me the real reason you need me along?”
“Camouflage, as I said.” He raised a hand before I could complain he was still treating me as dense. “I need to look harmless to the townsfolk. I need to smell harmless to the local protectors of the night. That means twisting my scent with yours as much as possible. Being near you, touching you.”
“Touching.” Memory of Derek’s hands roaming over my breasts hit me with a shudder.
Vampires couldn’t compel me, but I wasn’t immune to their enhanced abilities. Derek made me love him, literally. I thought we’d had what my grandparents had. The agony of him pushing me away still woke me up at night.
My fingers automatically sought the locket at my throat.
Rikare caught my reaction, though not the reason. “You want to tell me why you don’t like me?”
“I said I dated a v-guy.” I dropped my hand from my locket. “I didn’t say I had a good time of it.”
“He didn’t satisfy you?” His focus intensified on me.
Had Derek satisfied me? Sexually, sure. Every bite was a tidal wave of pleasure. But had he satisfied what I really wanted?
“No. He didn’t.”
“Well.” Rikare sat back with folded arms, and I waited for him to defend Derek, another vampire and guy. “He wasn’t a very good boyfriend.”
That goosed a laughed out of me. “No. Not very good at all.”
The taxi pulled to a stop at the curb on East Second. Out Rikare’s window was a porch-wrapped painted lady, Otto’s B&BS. Neat window boxes of asters and mums marched along the front, and the lawn was clipped to within an inch of its life. The only thing not postcard perfect was Otto’s industrial rotary lawn sprinkler at the edge of the sidewalk, whipping pearls of water round and round, hitting a patch of new straw-covered seed.
I only sat there, staring out the windows. I’d escaped all this. All this neat, sterile perfection, the smell in the air, which would be faintly redolent of beer hops. Across the street stood City Hall. Kitty-corner was Settler’s Square park with the Oom-pa-pah band shell and the big pine tree we—they—used as a Christmas tree.
My shoulders hunched under the weight of so much tradition.
The driver got out to unload our luggage, and Rikare left the car to help. I sighed and reached for the handle.
A shriek, my name, and my door flung open.
With a burst of heart-thudding adrenaline, I leaped to my feet. The heeled boots I wore to jack myself up closer to Rikare’s height made me tower over the sandy blonde curls of the shrieker, my friend and one-time roommate, Sera.
“What are you doing here?” she exclaimed. “You said you weren’t coming.”
As I tottered on shaky feet, she hugged me hard enough to pop my ovaries out of my ears. “I, um, changed my mind?”
“Yay!” Without releasing me, she pulled back to see my face, beaming so brightly I was slightly afraid she’d go supernova.
Then she caught sight of Rikare coming around to see what was going on. Her expression changed, curiosity ramped to eleven. “Who’s this? What does he do for a living? Where did he come from?”
I stifled a sigh and zipped my hoodie. On the plus side, Meiers Corners was a friendly, open community, happy to welcome both tourists and newcomers and absorb them into the general gemütlichkeit of beer and brats. On the negative, this meant everyone in town knew your name, occupation, church affiliation, what you ate for dinner last night, and how often you brushed your teeth. The last was really important. Good dental hygiene was an indicator of how well you’d keep up the lawn. If you flossed, you got extra points.
I never flossed enough.
“This is Seb.” I pasted on a smile because I was about to lie to one of my best friends. Good cause and all, but it still sucked. “He’s my new boyfriend.” The word came out harshly through gritted teeth.
Sera squealed, “Boyfriend?”
I winced and tried not to see her face brighten another notch. “He wanted to see the city, and I brought him here. What better time to show off the Corners than Oktoberfest, right? He’s an accountant and came right from work, which is why he’s wearing dress pants and shirt…” Damn. I was babbling, answering questions she hadn’t asked, overanswering, all giveaways. I was a horrible liar, especially with my friends.
Maybe I’d told her exactly what she wanted to hear, because her eye-beam clicked to high, and she smiled so broadly I thought she’d split her head. “He’s with you? Okay, then.”
That’s what she said publicly. Privately, she was bumping her eyebrows and mouthing, “You’re tapping that?”
“Brie’s told me so much about you.” Rikare gently peeled her off me to shake her hand. “How did you know she’d be here?” The last was said in exactly the same tone of voice, but somehow, even only knowing him a short time, his edge of suspicion was clear.
“Me? I didn’t. I’m meeting my brother at the park.”
“Ah.” Rikare went back to helping unload luggage.
“Now?” I asked. “Has Bruno gotten help at the shop?”
Bruno Braun ran the city’s survivalist store, Armageddon Three. I don’t know what happened to One and Two. Rumor had it that inexpertly packed merchandise and a careless delivery driver turned at least one of them into a big hole in the ground. Both were before Bruno.
“He’s closed, though not for long. He wanted my help testing something. Oh, there he is.”
I waved good-bye to her, snagged my luggage, and wheeled it up the front sidewalk. Behind me, Rikare paid the taxi driver.
Mounting the veranda, I paused and took a deep breath. Should’ve done that before getting out of the taxi. I’d spent twenty-seven years trying to escape the city’s straitjacket of unwritten rules. In New York, I thought I was free.
“One more thing.” Rikare’s voice came from right behind me. I leaped out of my skin. Yeah, vampire. Still alarming to be surprised that way. “We need to act more affectionate.”
Affectionate? Like handholding, kissing, screwing? A long slide of dangerous desire skewered me. An Eden’s apple I dare not pick.
“Affectionate, right.” I grabbed his hand. “Come on, honey.”
“That isn’t what I meant—”
“Darling, let’s not argue.” I yanked open the door to Otto’s. Holding it with my shoulder, I snared my suitcase handle and dragged both suitcase and Rikare inside.
I’d escaped twenty-seven years of social pressure and guilt.
And now I was going back in.