First Dates Are Hell

MONDRIAN SLAMMED VALIANCE'S face against the car door and Val heard his jaw crack. That was going to hurt in the morning. If there was a morning.



Mondrian turned him around and buried his nose into Val's shirt and inhaled deeply. "You've got a girl on you."



"Leave her out of this."



"Why you chasing dames the old-fashioned way?" Finnegan asked as he swung Valiance's sword around. "Just sway them. It's easier."



Valiance ground his teeth together, and his vision was lost for a moment in the spinning pain of his broken jaw and his concussed brain.



"Oh, I think he likes this one." Mondrian dropped Valiance's shirt, and Val slid down the car, landing hard on his ass. He felt a rib shift like it really shouldn't have shifted, and his sword arm, ripped from its socket, dangled loosely at his side.



"Is that why you won't come back with us?" Mondrian asked. "Some girl. We can find her, you know. See if she's right for the bleeding."



"Never," Valiance growled as he pushed himself up to his feet.



Mondrian let him. Valiance knew he was being played with. After the possession had faded, Mondrian was just enjoying kicking Valiance's ass on principle for all the times he had had to rein Mondrian in, keep him from crossing a line Valiance knew didn't even exist for him anymore.



"Is she pretty, at least? Tall, dark, and exotic. Like that Jolie woman?"



"She's totally one of us," Finnegan pitched in as he spun Valiance's sword around like a parade rifle.



Valiance looked from one to the other. They didn't see Esme. She'd been right there, and they hadn't seen her. How could they not have seen her? The sudden realization ripped a gasp from him. It wasn't just her quaint manner. She might actually be invisible to some people.



Valiance chuckled at the sheer cosmic joke of it all. That he could see invisible girls. Next thing he would discover was that she was a ghost who had died in a tragic pillow avalanche. Sounded about par for this year.



"Going to share the joke?" Mondrian asked.



Finnegan was at his throat in a blink, the sharp edge of Val's own blade pressed into his sensitive skin. "Yeah, Brother. We like a good joke."



The smell of burnt magnolias filled the parking lot. "Then you're going to think that I'm hilarious."



Valiance had never been more relieved to smell Prima Jordan. He swore in that moment he would never make a long-tailed cat joke for the rest of his long life.



She sauntered through the parking lot. When she was within striking distance, she studied both men. "These those Clade Brothers you keep talking about?"



"Every family has its fights," Mondrian said, leaving Valiance for a moment. "Stay out of this one."



Violet shrugged. "Not impressed, Val."



Mondrian was fast as he charged her, but Violet's reactions were faster. Something like pride swelled within Valiance as he watched Violet throw Mondrian across the parking lot. Maybe he had taught her something in their sparring sessions.



She took a moment to recover Valiance from the ground. "So, night going well?"



Valiance took her offered hand and got to his feet. His ears were ringing courtesy of the last slam into the car. "I don't think your phrase friggin' peachy has ever really made sense until now."



"Are you good?"



"No."



Finnegan and Mondrian didn't give them time to organize a proper strategy. Mondrian went for Valiance's throat, teeth out and ready for blood.



Valiance was ready for him. He knew every move Mondrian would throw at him, every just-off- center punch and the way he favored his left claw to his right. Even after a harsh blow to the ribs, Val felt a smile cross his lips.



"Please share the joke, Brother."



Mondrian landed a fast backhand across Valiance's jaw but couldn't shake the smile.



"You're too predictable. Always have been."



"Predictable?"



"Even down to your taste in clothes. Must everything be black?"



"Brings out my - "



Valiance landed a hard right hook on Mondrian's jaw, reveling in the sound of the contact that echoed off the brick building.



Blood trickled out of the corner of Mondrian's mouth, and he wiped it with the back of his hand.



"So you're really not going to consider coming back to us?"



"No."



There was a shimmer in the air, and Violet's panther made a black streak across the parking lot after Finnegan. The young vampire ran in panic, dropping Valiance's sword as he fled.



The two vampires saw the sword at the same time, but Valiance was faster this time. They slid across the parking lot, but Valiance felt the familiar thrum in his fingertips as touched the metal.



He curled his fingers around his sword, and she felt amazing in his hand. Good girl.



"Are you forgetting I have one of those, too?" Mondrian pulled his own blade out from its sheath.



"Mine's bigger." Valiance winked before he swung the sword in the first of a dozen attacks. He wasn't as strong with his left arm, but Mondrian hadn't trained any more than what Valiance had put him through the past seventy years. Valiance had never stopped practicing. Even Violet had taken up swordplay and had the speed to be a challenge for Valiance. She had made him better.



Mondrian had only slowed him down, made him wait for his younger brother to play catch-up.



Valiance was tired of waiting. He wanted this done. He hated waiting. He hated that he'd been in limbo for six months, and the one night he decided to try to get back on the horse, they showed up.



With every angry thought, Valiance's blade lashed out. For every word he couldn't say, his iron spoke for him.



Until Mondrian was pressed against the wall, unarmed, bleeding, and smelling of fear. Valiance took in a deep breath of his scent though he didn't need a reminder of Mondrian's smell.



Iron sliced through flesh with a sickening sucking sound that made Valiance turn away from his brother just in time to see Finnegan's head roll under a parked car.



Violet, in human form, stood over the body, weapon hanging at her side.



Valiance was frozen by the feeling of his Clade Brother as he died. A cold chill ran over his skin despite his battle-charged heat. It was like spiderwebs drawn across his chest as Finnegan's energy was released back into the earth.



Mondrian obviously didn't have the same reaction. He grabbed Valiance's wrist and wrenched his injured arm outward and spun under it.



The tendons in Valiance's shoulder ripped around the dislocated shoulder. The pain numbed his hand and screeched into his ear. Mondrian rammed his knee into Valiance's torso, then was gone, like the air in Valiance's lungs.



"Crap," Violet said as she dropped the sword and went to help Valiance up.



The power of her panther still ebbed around her, and the heat of her pressed against his injured body. As they shuffled over to the dead body, he might have held on to her shoulder longer than he needed just to have her soothing power close to him.



"I didn't mean to . . ." Violet said as she stood over the headless vampire. "I think you taught me a little too well."



"Right. You didn't mean to chop his head off." Valiance shook his head. Pain flared from his right knee to his left ribs to his right shoulder to his left jaw. He was a zigzag of pain. Thinking in a straight line was nearly impossible.



"Well . . ." Violet turned to him. "Want me to fix that arm?"



"You a medic now, too?"



"No, just accident-prone. I've had to do it enough times that I'm an expert. Take off your jacket."



There really was no saying "no" to her, so he slipped off his jacket carefully. His new dress shirt was shredded, blood drying in long lines across his chest. He had the thought that more blood was on the outside than on the in.



He could feel the heat of her hands through his shirt, She walked her fingers down his shoulder blade. Carefully, she took his wrist and brought his arm up to a right angle. "We probably need to talk about something happy because this usually hurts."



"Andrin's using his blood to possess the Clade."



"That's your idea of happy?"



She carefully rotated his arm outward, and every inch she moved it made his head swim in pain.



She could relocate it, but the ligaments would still need time to mend. She kept moving his arm, her fingers at his back to gauge the process.



"It's not like it is in the movies, you know. That dramatic pop as the hero slams his shoulder back into place. You need to relax. This isn't going to work if you're tense."



He knew she was talking to keep his mind occupied, keep it from focusing on the pain, on the betrayal of his Clade. His failure to his brothers. She was kind of great like that.



Violet kept cranking his arm back and forth, but he couldn't relax with her touching him. It hadn't been that long since he'd been with a woman, but he was definitely affected by the heat of panther power against his side. It reminded him of Esme, her soft warmth that smelled like flowers.



The thought of her relaxed him for a moment, and Violet hit him like linebacker in the shoulder.



A pop echoed through the parking lot, and Valiance grabbed his shoulder as he jerked away from Violet.



"Finally got you to relax enough."



Valiance bent over and let the pain consume him for a second before it settled into a dull throb.



He stood and slowly rotated his arm. He'd be better by morning, providing he got something to eat.



"Your girl called me. Told me you needed help." She pulled out her phone and began texting.



"She's not my . . ." Valiance stood quickly as the pain cleared his head, and his thoughts resumed in a straighter line than before. "Mondrian said he'd go after her, and she might be special."



Violet looked up from her glowing phone with a raised eyebrow. "Like Wandering special?"



"I don't know. But I wouldn't put it past Mondrian to go after her just to get me to come with him. He never could disobey an order."



"Sounds like there's a story."



Valiance looked across the dark and empty parking lot. "We went through three wars together, and we got the job done. Mondrian was . . . overzealous on occasion."



"And you?"



"When the cause was right. Never dull a good blade on an evil purpose. The purpose and the sword will betray you."



"Sound advice."



Violet's phone buzzed in her hands. "The Cleaners are on their way to get rid of the body."



"Tell them to box and burn the head."



"Afraid he'll come back? 'Cause I don't think he's coming back."



Valiance sighed but still relinquished a small smile at her ability to bring levity to every situation.



"It is a show of respect," he explained. "Now you need to find Esme. Make sure she's safe."



"Me. No. This, this is all you, honey." Violet started toward the back of the coffee shop. "I got you out of the trouble that came to you. You have to get out of the trouble that you caused yourself."



She threw open the back door, and Valiance had to lengthen his stride to follow her. "What are you talking about? There's a potential innocent about to get attacked by a vampire."



They hit the bright lights of the coffee shop, and Valiance flinched and blinked away his enhanced vision. The light hurt his eyes, and the scent of blood on the both of them overwhelmed him. He probably looked like death, yet the few customers just looked at him, then went back to their reading. Maybe this is what Esme felt like all the time? "And what are you going to do about it?"



Valiance's feet stopped as Violet leaned against the counter casually, like a waiting customer.



He studied her. Six months wasn't enough to completely decode her. He had no sympathy for her husband. "Is this one of those tests? You're forcing me to grow up somehow. Listen, I'm a full century older than you. I'm grown. You need to stop being childish and go help a Wanderer."



"How? I know her name, and that's about it. I don't know what she looks like, what she smells like. How am I supposed to help her?"



Bastian slid a hot cup of coffee across the pickup area, and Violet sipped it. There was a shimmer in her energy as the hot liquid touched her lips and a glimmer in her eye as she looked back at Valiance, waiting.



He needed a drink.



ESME THREW OPEN the door of the little house, and the walls shook.



"My goodness, child, no need for - "



Esme threw her arms around her grandmother's neck and knocked the words from her as Esme began to sob. Again. She took in a deep, safe breath of her grandmother's baby-powder scent and tried to focus on that one thing instead of the fifty-seven other things running through her head.



Her grandmother stroked her hair and cooed in Spanish. "It's okay, little bird. It's okay, palomita. You're safe here. You're safe now."



Esme let herself be led to the couch and dropped down into the well-worn cushions. The flight response had left her body tired and her bones aching.



Her grandmother locked the door and kicked down the ash branch that always rested in front of it. Within minutes, Esme's hands were wrapped around a cup of hot chocolate with a bit of her grandmother's special spice. One sip, and she immediately calmed down, her mind seemed to focus, and the fear of monsters' chasing her subsided.



Her grandmother sat next to her, her knees creaking all the way down. "What happened, little bird?"



The words flew out of her mouth so fast Esme didn't have time to filter out any of the crazy.



"This guy asked me for coffee and I met him at the same place I always go, and then he got this stony look and said we had to go and I thought he was just ending the date early because I'm not the most interesting person in the world. When he walked me to my car, this guy, like, attacked him, but it was like he couldn't see me and then he gave me his phone and then this shadow thing knocked him down and he told me to run. So I did and then I called his sister or something and she knew who I was and then I drove home because I got the distinct feeling they wanted to eat me."



Esme watched her grandmother process the information, too calm for Esme's liking. Her grandmother stirred her cocoa. "You had a date?"



"That's the part of the story you're paying attention to? These things were monsters. They moved too fast. He moved too fast, and he had a freaking sword down his back."



"Iron or silver."



"What?"



"Was the blade shiny silver or a dull gray?"



Fear crept across Esme's skin despite the hot drink in her hands. She didn't need to think about it. The image of his pulling the blade out of his coat like a sinister magic trick was burned into her retinas. "Dull. Not like the ones in the movies."



Her grandmother let out a long breath and muttered something in Spanish Esme didn't catch.



"What?"



"Drink your cocoa, palomita."



Esme did as she was told. She relaxed again, swirling the spicy flavor around in her mouth before swallowing.



Her grandmother's eyes focused sharply on Esme. "The others didn't see you?"



"Looked right past me, like I wasn't even there. But everyone looks past me. Except Val." That thought kept dancing around her brain. He had seen her. But saying it out loud made the thought even more real and even more frightening.



"Good to know the magic is still there. I was afraid the spell had worn off."



Esme realized she was about to freak out and took the precaution of putting her hot cocoa on the coffee table. "Spell? Abuelita, what are you talking about?"



"It's all real, my little bird. All the fairy tales I told you. All real."



Esme's thoughts stopped. She just stared into her grandmother's brown eyes, which had always held all the answers before. "What?"



"The chupacabra, la llorona, the skin-walkers, all real. And all alive and well in Dallas."



The flight response was back and in double force. Esme leapt off the couch and started to pace.



Her Mary Janes echoed off the wood floors. "Why are you telling me this?"



"Our blood is very faint. The magic only surfaces once a generation. Skipped your mother entirely. "



"Magic?" Esme stopped before her grandmother. "Are you trying to tell me you're a witch? I'm a witch?"



"Fairy actually."



Esme laughed. "Seriously?"



A furrow formed between her grandmother's brow, nestled between her other wrinkles there, and she rose from the couch. "I would never lie about this, palomita. Not now. Not that you've been seen by one."



"Seen?" Esme's entire life flashed before her eyes. Everyone ignored her; she slipped by in every class because the teacher never called on her. She was ignored in movie lines. She'd started wearing steel-toed boots at work because people stepped on her feet so often. Everything clicked in her head. "I'm invisible."



"No, my little dove. You burn too brightly. The magic keeps you hidden from those who would take your light. Take another sip of your cocoa."



Esme looked down at the table. That clicked, too. "The spice. Have you been drugging me all these years?"



"Don't be ridiculous, Esme. It's just nutmeg, cayenne, and maybe some ground poppy seed."



He grandmother didn't meet her eyes, suddenly very interested in the rug beneath them.



"Oh God. You've been using magic on me."



"It's nothing, just a bit of garden magic, palomita. It's part of our heritage."



"You're insane."



Her grandmother grabbed her shoulders and poked a stubby fingernail into Esme's chest. "You need to listen to me if you've got vampires after you."



"Vampires?" Esme's knees gave, and her grandmother pushed her toward the chair, where she landed with a jarring bounce. "He's a vampire?"



"Iron blade. If it were silver, I would have said shifter."



"I just went on a date with a vampire." Even when she said the words out loud, they didn't feel real. Didn't jibe with what she knew of vampires. He'd been kind, and opened the door for her, paid for coffee.



But he didn't drink it. He'd just spun it as they talked, as he watched her talk. And he'd probably just opened the door for her to see the long line of her neck in the moonlight. See what his next meal was going to look like.



"But he saw you," her grandmother said.



"Yeah, probably as dinner." Esme pinched the flesh of her pinky, the pain focusing her thoughts as the tip turned bright pink with blood.



"No," her grandmother said. "He saw you. He saw through the magic. You said the others didn't." Her grandmother smiled. "His intentions are good, Esme."



Esme huffed. "Well, his intentions can stay on his side of town."



She rose and brushed past her grandmother as she grabbed her bag and went back to her room and made a spectacular show of slamming her door. She was going to have to find a new place to work, a new coffee shop, and maybe a new life altogether.