Ember had spent all morning on tenterhooks, expecting him to enter the café. Every time the door had opened, she’d cast a startled glance in the customer’s direction only to see anyone but him entering.
She still didn’t even know his name. Hadn’t asked his name. But he clearly knew hers – something else he had over her.
‘You’re edgy this morning,’ Casey had said as she’d stepped alongside her at the coffee machine. ‘Is everything OK?’
She’d continued to refrain from telling her about the attack the night before. She’d asked Harry to keep his mouth shut too, even though he still only knew part of the story.
‘I guess the reality of knowing there aren’t many days to go now is setting in,’ Ember had said in a vain attempt at giving a valid reason.
Despite her own anxiety, Ember hadn’t failed to notice that Casey had been casting her fair share of glances at the door every time it opened too. No doubt she had been expecting a visitor of her own – a visitor who had died at the hands of her visitor.
‘Uh-huh.’ Casey had placed her customer’s cup next to Ember’s as she too had waited for it to fill. There’d been a lengthy pause that was unnatural for Casey. ‘I’ve heard the rumours, Ember.’
Her heart had skipped a beat. Her gaze had snapped to Casey’s. ‘Rumours about what?’
‘I overheard someone in here talking about it only a couple of hours ago. You and Harry don’t need to hide it from us.’
Ember’s chest had tightened. ‘Hide what?’
‘About the Hordas clan paying a visit to Duke’s place over on Monroe Street.’
Ember’s stomach had flipped. She’d turned to face Casey fully. She’d lowered her voice. ‘When?’
‘A couple of days ago apparently.’
‘Are you sure?’
Casey had shrugged. ‘That’s what I heard. It would make sense as to why Harry’s been so bad tempered the last couple of days. Working until all hours, you know. If he can work any more hours, that is. So is it true?’
‘I didn’t know anything about this.’
And Harry had denied it. He had denied it that very morning, playing it down into nothing more than hearsay.
Casey had frowned. A moment later, her eyes had flared. ‘Shit,’ she’d hissed. She’d cupped her hand over her mouth as if in an attempt to take back the words. ‘I bet he didn’t want you to know. Not with you leaving.’
‘Finish serving my customer for me, will you, please?’ Ember had said, instantly pulling away from her.
She’d marched down to Harry’s office. She’d only knocked once. She hadn’t waited to be invited in. She’d closed the door behind her.
Harry had looked up at her. He’d disconnected from whatever call he’d been in the middle of with a quick, ‘I’ll call you back’.
‘Is it true?’ Ember had asked. ‘About the Hordas clan hitting Duke’s?’
His contrite expression had been confirmation enough.
‘Why didn’t you say anything to me?’ she’d asked, taking the seat opposite him. ‘Why didn’t you mention anything?’
‘What would have been the point?’
‘The point is I’m the deputy manager here.’
‘For only a handful of days more.’
Ember had folded her arms, leaned back in the chair, and shook her head as she’d stared him down. ‘You should have told me. If not as deputy manager then at least as friends.’
‘And because we’re friends, I didn’t want to worry you without good reason. It’s a rumour, Ember. Nothing has been confirmed.’
‘Nothing ever is with them until it’s too late. Have you spoken to Duke?’
‘I’ve tried.’
She’d leaned forward and rested her arms on the table. ‘What does that mean?’
‘He hasn’t responded to my messages. And before you say anything, it might be a coincidence, that’s all.’
Ember had frowned. ‘You don’t believe that any more than I do.’ She’d paused. ‘Is this why you’ve been quieter than usual? Grouchier than usual. Have you known about this for a while?’
Harry had known better than to believe she’d let it go. ‘I first heard the rumour a few days ago.’
‘And you kept me out of the loop because of my application.’
‘I didn’t want anything affecting it on the day, Ember.’
‘Instead the Hordas clan could walk in here off the street at any point and you decided to keep that to yourself.’
‘There are bigger businesses in this area, Ember. More popular and more profitable businesses. We’re too small for them to take notice. We don’t make enough for them to take notice. So to me that meant it wasn’t worth worrying you at this stage with things that might never happen.’
‘Or might not happen until after I’ve already left, right?’ She’d glanced down at his busy desk. ‘That’s what all this extra pouring over paperwork is about. Is that why you asked me to get all of the accounts together?’ She’d pressed her finger onto the pile of papers between them. ‘If those bullies come here, we’re not paying them a penny, Harry. You are not handing over everything you’ve worked for to some low-life protection racket.’
‘You’re getting ahead of yourself, Ember.’
‘No. I know preparations when I see them.’
‘And it’s my business, Ember. I want you to remember that.’
‘And my hard work too. And I care about this place, Harry. I care about you too.’ She’d leaned back in her chair again. ‘You’d thought they were the ones responsible for me getting jumped last night, didn’t you? I saw the look on your face. I saw the worry in your eyes. Now it makes sense.’
‘I want you to take the rest of the week off, Ember. I want this to be your last shift.’
She’d shaken her head. ‘No.’
‘I was planning to bring it up with you yesterday, but I didn’t want to spoil your good news. Now that you know you’re definitely going, it’s more important than ever that you’re not around.’
‘From trying to convince me it’s nothing but a rumour to kicking me out now?’
‘I’m looking out for you.’
‘And it sounds to me like you need me around more than ever. I’m not leaving you in the lurch. Not over this.’
‘We can manage. Yvonne will step into the breach for now, I’m sure.’
‘And she’s got a young child at home. Should she be here? And what about Casey? How much attention is she going to garner from the likes of them?’
Had maybe done so already. That maybe Harry’s assumptions about their involvement in the attack hadn’t been wrong. Maybe they had come for the staff – Casey, her…
Her heart had pounded. If it were true, her stranger had taken on a couple of guys who worked for the Hordas clan.
‘You can’t rule me out unless you’re going to rule them all out,’ she’d said, trying to force herself to focus on the here and now. ‘I’m staying, Harry. I’m staying until my time is up.’
Guys who were now dead.
Dead because of her.
Now, down on her hands and knees in the recess, she didn’t need that playing on her mind amidst already rife recollections of that morning as she searched every dark nook for her necklace. They’d torn her jumper over her head. The possibilities that the loose chain had been caught up in it were high.
But nothing.
Ember sank back on her haunches, the sick sensation in her stomach intensifying.
Despite having accepted Harry’s offer to go back to his for the night, and more than ever in light of their conversation, the second she’d found her necklace gone, she’d known she’d have to go back to try and find it.
Equally, she’d known she’d needed to confront what she’d done. She couldn’t spend the next few days flinching every time the café door opened. She couldn’t spend every minute worrying when her stranger was going to turn up, or what he might want from her. She needed closure. She needed to know what had happened was over.
Ember pulled herself to her feet and headed out of the recess.
It was pointless delaying. She needed to confront him – if he was still around. If he hadn’t already thought better of it and had left while he could.
She headed down to the outer door, unlocked it, stepped into the shadows, and quietly closed the door behind herself.
She tentatively scanned the stairwell before feeling reassured enough to lock the door behind her.
He wasn’t kidding when he’d said there’d be no traces left. Under the subtle glow of the afternoon light that pushed through the mesh window, she could already see that the blood on the stairs had completely vanished. Just like back in the recess, there wasn’t so much as a stain.
Front door key ready in her hand, she ascended the steps one at a time.
The door to his apartment was shut but the splintering along the jamb, as well as the new lock, told her how he’d managed to get out to her that morning: he’d clearly had a spare set of keys in his apartment. But as for how he’d got out of his cuffs in the first place, that remained a mystery.
Despite the usual silence emanating from within his apartment, Ember maintained a watchful eye.
Until she detected the glint of metal dangling from the handle of her door.
She froze. Her gaze darted back to his door. She looked back at hers. She hurried up the last few steps. She removed the necklace.
She unlocked her door. She flicked on her lounge light. The fake, glass sapphire had the familiar dents and scratches she had come to love. Some of the links on the chain were new though. Not only had he given it back, he’d fixed it too.
She closed the door behind her. She drew all three bolts across. She leaned back against it. Using the knuckle of her forefinger, she wiped away the tears that instantly gathered at the corners of her eyes as she crushed the pendant in her right hand, letting metal and glass dig into the backs of her fingers.
Her immediate instinct was to thank him.
But suspicion instantly set in: that maybe it had been a means for her to feel indebted to him further. Scepticism fuelled by the fact that, even more than twenty years later, it still felt like a betrayal to even consider one of his kind capable of decency – least of all with that very necklace a reminder.
Above all else, he was still there. Despite his witness living right opposite, he’d been arrogant enough to remain there.
She pulled herself away from the door and headed into the bathroom. She placed her necklace on the shelf above the sink before stripping off.
Having long passed her routine swift ten-minute wash-down, she sat down in the bathtub and let the shower spray rain down on her as she continued to put off the inevitable.
Because she still needed to know the truth. She still needed to challenge him. And if there was a fraction of a possibility that he’d done what he’d done out of decency, then more than ever she needed to revert back to her original plan.
Eventually, she dried herself off. She put on fresh underwear, her jeans, chunky socks, a vest top and her shapeless grey sweater over the top. She heated some leftover pasta in the microwave before taking it to eat on her lap in front of the TV.
Another hour had passed before she’d realised her food had turned cold and that she was no longer aware of the silent screen images that had become nothing but peripheral in front of her.
She headed into the bathroom to brush her teeth. She rubbed away the traces of perspiration gathering at the back of her neck at the knowledge she couldn’t put it off any longer. She clutched the sink for a few moments to support her trembling thighs.
She checked her reflection as she tied her hair up in a scruffy bun knot. But she couldn’t put her necklace back on. She couldn’t go to him wearing that.
Before she gave herself time to rethink, she crossed her lounge. She slid the bolts back on her door.
She hovered at the threshold and stared ahead at his still-closed door, her pulse kicking up to an uncomfortable rate. As a vampire, he’d sense it. He’d know. So, taking steady breaths, she focused on calming her pounding heart.
Leaving her door ajar behind her, she crossed the top of the stairwell and knocked.
When there was no answer, she felt a paradox of relief and disappointment. But the silence granted her the confidence to knock once more – a little louder the second time.
When there was still no answer, she turned away. She’d almost reached her own threshold when his door clicked open behind her.
She spun one-eighty to face him.
Subtly backlit by the dim lighting of his apartment, he rested his forearm loosely against the doorjamb, a fraction above his head.
She couldn’t tell at first if the sheen to his bare chest was sweat or water, but the undercurrent of a not-unpleasant masculine scent told her the former was most likely. That and his black sweatpants, sweatpants that rested low enough on his flat, toned stomach to reveal the subtlest hint of intimate hair beneath his belly button.
He’d been working out.
Or had company that she’d interrupted.
She instantly felt herself blush at the prospect of him not being alone; she didn’t know why she’d assumed he would be.
‘You returned my necklace.’ It came out more bluntly than she had hoped, the drawback of not having planned what she was going to say. ‘And you fixed it. Thank you.’
He folded his arms, further bulking out his biceps and his toned forearms as he leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb this time.
He was physically perfect. That was all she could think. There was nothing about him that could be faulted. And she hated herself for that being her focus in that moment. She hated that she allowed her gaze to wander over him to further reinforce his appeal. And her unease at the intimacy of his semi-nakedness wasn’t helped by his unflinching gaze or his frown of curiosity.
‘You’re welcome,’ he said.
She glanced to his exposed side, the dressing now removed. From what she could see from the angle, it was badly bruised but the wound already looked a few days old just from the past sixteen hours or so. The wonders of the third species – and the very reason the Global Council had spent decades trying to merge vampire blood with their own for the same effects.
She had to come straight out with it. ‘I also wanted to check that everything was sorted this morning as you said it would be.’
‘Not a trace,’ he confirmed. His gaze remained unflinching. ‘Is that it?’
For someone with so much leverage, his aloof dismissal threw her off guard.
‘What do you want from me?’ she asked.
He frowned pensively. ‘Why would I want anything from you, Ember?’
Too many reasons trampled over each other in her head – none of them smart to vocalise as she stood alone with the vampire in the isolated stairwell.
‘I need you to leave,’ she said in another blunt statement.
He raised his eyebrows a fraction. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘I can’t afford to have you around here. It’s only for the next few days. I’ll pay for the inconvenience if needs be.’
His frown deepened. ‘You’re asking me to leave the apartment?’
‘For a few days, that’s all. You know why I’m asking. Whoever shot you…’
‘Has no idea where I am. I wasn’t shot here.’
‘But clearly you’re involved with something I could do without. I don’t want any trouble here.’
‘You won’t have.’
‘And I don’t need a…’
‘A?’
‘I don’t need a vampire living next door.’
He unfolded his arms to rest one above his head again. This time he rested his other hand on his hip, drawing her attention to those low-slung sweatpants again. She had no idea if it was intentional on his part.
‘I’m not trying to insult you,’ she said. ‘I’m not trying to be confrontational. I’m just stating the facts.’
‘Uh-huh,’ he said, annoyingly not giving anything away.
‘Like I said, it’s only for the time being. Until I leave next week. A vampire living opposite could raise questions. If you have feeders here, friends who come around…’
‘No one comes around.’
‘All the same, I need as few risks as possible. Someone who turns up shot and left for dead with guns in his apartment is someone I can’t afford to have next door. I saved your life. All I’m asking you is to stay away until next week in return.’
‘I saved your life. That was the return.’
‘You could have died last night.’
‘I could have died a lot of times. The novelty wears off soon enough.’
Ember felt her belligerence escalate at his stubbornness. ‘I put myself on the line to save you.’
‘Why?’
‘Why what?’
She understood the question, she just wasn’t sure of her answer.
‘Why did you do it?’ he asked. ‘Why put yourself in that precarious position? Why not let me die?’
‘I didn’t have a choice.’
‘Yes, you did,’ he corrected her.
Seemingly he could be as blunt as her.
‘OK,’ she said, ‘if you want to talk about this, tell me why you’re here? You clearly knew my name which means you recognised me from the café. You certainly didn’t look surprised to see me in that recess. You knew I lived here, didn’t you? So how long have you lived here?’
‘A little while.’
‘Yet you’ve never said anything.’
‘Why would I?’
‘You’ve been visiting the café for weeks. Most people would say something.’
‘And then what? We chat? Get to know each other? Walk each other home? That would have looked great on your application.’
‘You’ve been eavesdropping on my private conversations.’
‘Like I told you, your friends talk too loudly.’
‘Why are you still here, despite what I witnessed?’
‘Because you’re not going to report it. Because you’re too smart to report it.’
She stared him down in the shadows, his nonchalance amidst his frankness as unnerving as his being so utterly unperturbed by her challenge.
‘Killing two humans would have you instantly ousted from Lowtown into Blackthorn, no matter how you’ve earned your residency here,’ she reminded him.
She instantly regretted her rashness amidst her frustration.
He cocked his head to the side ever so slightly, but enough to make her stomach churn. ‘Is that a threat?’
‘We’re both up to our necks in it. So why are you risking still being here? And why did you bother to return my necklace? Why did you go to the effort to have it fixed?’
‘Because I could.’ He stood upright, drawing her attention back to his body, back to the physical reality of her opposition. ‘Listen, Ember. You don’t want complications and neither do I. Let’s continue that way. You need this place and, for now, so do I. It hasn’t caused any problems this past week and it doesn’t need to cause any problems for the next few days either. You stick to your routine and I’ll stick to mine.’
She remained rooted to the spot, the prospect of his leaving having completely diminished in those passing minutes. That meant she was stuck with him – for the next few days at least. She needed to formulate a new argument, but one continued to elude her.
‘Does it mean something to you?’ he asked, breaking her train of thought.
‘What?’
‘The necklace. I’m guessing it’s important to you for you to make the effort to thank me. I’m guessing it’s more than a piece of tat.’
She fisted her hands at his choice of terminology. She held his gaze in the passing moments. ‘It’s far more than a piece of tat.’
‘So from someone you cared about? I say cared in the past tense because I never see you with anyone.’
She didn’t know why she did it. Why she chose to answer him when she didn’t have to. Why she allowed herself to feel vulnerable in front of him by doing so. But she had no doubt her frustration had been the biggest part of it, the hope maybe that would convince him to go, let alone the relief to finally be able to say the words to him.
‘That’s because they were murdered,’ she said, the words clogging in her throat. ‘By one of your kind.’