“No, ten minutes ago I told you that my mother heard that Stefano was missing and, quite frankly, I don’t know where he went off to in a hurry after he took my money and my blow. Oh, that sounds like it would be an amusing story to gather the interest of a young lady!”

  “I’m going to try my best to unhear that, Mr. Lambley. Look, Ren asked me to keep an eye on Steve for one frickin’ long weekend, and he’s already gone! Not only is he gone, but for some reason he’s moody and needed cash and narcotics. Ugh, did he give you any clue as to where he might go?”

  The vampire shook his head. The moment Georgia turned and stomped to the refrigerator to pull out blood and wine, he slipped out his phone and started gleefully tapping away again. As the human peeked around the door, a light bulb went off in Georgia’s eyes. She poured them both a glass of red that probably wasn’t best straight out of the fridge and whipped out her phone with the speed and dexterity of a teenager.

  “Please, please, please,” she chanted as she loaded up her social media updates. “Oh, you are so brilliant, Georgia, and vampires be so dumb,” she giggled as she found a check-in for none other than one Steve “Blaine” at a very expensive steak house not ten minutes from the Intercontinental.

  The vampire looked up from his own little black screen. “What are you going on about?” he asked as Georgia continued to giggle.

  “Why on earth would a vampire who owns a hotel check into another one just a few blocks away?” Georgia asks. “He’s at some steak house at the Park Plaza Hotel or at least he was a few minutes ago.”

  The vampire set down his phone and pushed away from the table. Georgia watched as he straightened his smoking jacket and smoothed back his hair. Geoffrey cleared his throat and motioned grandly towards the stairs. “If we are going to go find him and give him what for, we had best change into something more appropriate for the Park Plaza,” he said in his most dreadfully posh voice.

  “Wait, you want to go out? It’s not even a Tuesday.”

  “Well, we should try new and different things from time to time, and since you made a promise to look after him, while his boy is away, it is my duty to make sure that you keep your promises,” he said proudly.

  “You just want to show off your new suit at a fancy steakhouse, don’t you?” Georgia sighed.

  Mr. Lambley grinned broadly enough to show off his baby fangs.

  “Why yes, yes, I do!” he said as he all but pranced to the stairs.

  Georgia bolted after him and barely heard, “You should wear your purple dress,” before she slipped into her room.

  As soon as she had yanked on stockings and her dress, she rushed over to help the vampire with his tie. He had managed to button all the buttons on his silk shirt correctly, and his assistant only had to worry about cufflinks and a tie. She tugged the sleeves and straightened his collar, so she could fully appreciate the wonders of custom tailoring.

  “Your mom certainly likes to spoil you, Mr. Lambley,” Georgia said as she grabbed his pinstripe jacket.

  “Actually, she had something for you too, Miss Sutherland,” the vampire said as he wandered over to his nightstand where a little velvet box sat beside his bedside glass used for blood. He picked up the tiny blue box gingerly and beamed as he placed it in her outstretched hand. “She said that she made friends with an excellent local artist and he made this just…for… you.”

  “I do know that Mina certainly loves her jewelry, but I should probably be scared of whatever a vampire considers perfect for—”

  Her jaw dropped as she popped the top.

  “Miss Sutherland?” the vampire asked.

  She reached back and unhooked the clasp on her ever-present necklace. Her keys jingled on the chain as she swung the necklace over to meet its newest adornment, a simple silver disk with Japanese characters etched on each side. As she was slipping the pendant onto the chain, Mr. Lambley looked at her expectantly.

  “Do you have any idea what it says?” he asked.

  “Knowing Mina’s sick sense of humor, it’s probably something akin to how I’m looking for hot Asian men, but it’s pretty, and it’s thoughtful, and if she catches me not wearing it, then it will be a one-hour, extremely uncomfortable conversation where she tries to figure out exactly what kind of jewelry I do like, and then asks me about my sex life.”

  “Ah, yes, mother’s idea of casual conversation,” Mr. Lambley sighed. “Very well then, shall we be off?”

  The pair snagged late-fall appropriate outerwear, and cheered the lack of rain and snow, as they glamorously stepped out about town and ended up crammed into a subway car with a few dozen other late-night thrill-seekers. “Don’t worry, we’ll get a cab or something back,” Georgia reassured her companion as he eyed a pack of hipsters all tipping their locally brewed lattes at his suit and tie.

  They shuffled and pushed their way among the other people all trying to muscle their way up to Arlington Street. They both had to smooth their hair and clothes, by the time they reached the surface.

  Georgia took a deep breath of cold, damp city air before leading her companion straight towards the bright lights and expensive cars marking the entrance to one of the ritzy hotels on the edge of Boston’s Theater District.

  Georgia gave a little wink and a smile to the young man working as valet before she caught sight of the entrance to the very steakhouse where her missing vampire had checked into. The first glimpse of the dark, moody lighting and classic Hollywood images on the walls gave the pair all the reason they needed to go hunting for one Steve DeMarco.

  “I don’t think that we have a reservation, Miss Sutherland,” Mr.

  Lambley whispered as he eyed the stone-cold face of the woman

  that stood between the pair and their prize.

  “Remember that little bit of miasma-mojo that you managed at Thanksgiving?” she muttered as she took a step behind the shocked vampire. “Time to work it again.”

  “Welcome! Do you have a reservation with us this evening?” she asked.

  The vampire cleared his throat and looked her in the eyes.

  “Actually, we don’t, but that disappoints me greatly. I would love an excuse to get to talk to you longer.”

  Georgia somehow resisted the urge to throw up in the back of her mouth. As charred flesh smells began to stick to her nose and tongue, she turned a bit green and swayed.

  She snapped back into the present as she heard a cheerful, “Oh yes, I know just who you mean. Why don’t you follow me?”

  They snaked their way behind the entranced hostess. Most of the tables were full of executives or couples sipping red wine. The average setting featured a large slab of cow flesh with token vegetable accessories. Georgia rolled her eyes at one couple so entranced with taking photos of their food that their cheese sauce on their scalloped potatoes had gone solid.

  “You know, I’m off my shift at midnight,” the hostess offered. “Are you staying at the hotel?”

  “As tempting as that sounds, I really must find my friend first,” the vampire said sweetly.

  Their destination turned out to be a dimly lit corner of an already shadowy restaurant. This cozy, round booth afforded its occupants protection from any nosy onlookers while providing an excellent view of a life-sized black and white image of Marilyn Monroe. Even in the hazy mix of candlelight and subdues art deco fixtures, Georgia could clearly make out a familiar face with big, brown eyes and a stray curl of chestnut-colored hair. Steve had chosen a pinstripe suit as well but embellished his with a scarlet shirt and a skinny black tie.

  “Oh, my, look what the cat dragged in,” he said before taking a big ole bite of black and blue sirloin steak. He then took a gulp of a thick, red beverage and let out a deeply satisfied sigh. “I’m so glad we have a booth that can seat four.”

  “Who is this?” Georgia asked.

  “I could ask the very same question,” a droll, if slightly wheezy, voice replied. The older gentleman wore a more restrained dark, gray suit that went well with his steely two-toned hair. He stared appreciatively, paying particular attention to her stocking-clad leg.

  Although his skin was nearly as pale as Mr. Lambley’s, the wrinkles and faint yellow undertone on his complexion didn’t read as undead.

  Georgia took a tentative step towards the gentleman but experienced no sudden nausea or swooning.

  The older man patted the smooth leather next to him. “Why don’t you have a seat? I’d love to meet some of—” He stopped abruptly and gave Steve a pointed look.

  “I’d like to introduce you to one of my oldest and dearest friends, Mr. Geoffrey Lambley. I call him Gingersnaps and all manner of terrible nicknames. This is Georgia, Mr. Lambley’s assistant.

  Geoffrey, Georgia, meet Junior.”

  Both Georgia and Geoffrey did a double take at the crow’s feet and age spots. The stranger gave a yellowed smile and raised his own glass. “I do feel rather young and ready to take on the world tonight,” he said. “Wow, this is good stuff.”

  “That’s because it’s Italian and from the eighties,” Steve quipped.

  “It’s sort of our theme for tonight. Come, sit, and live a little. I can pour you a hit of what I’m having, Gingersnaps. It’s also Italian.”

  Georgia handed her coat off to one of the obsequious wait staff and chose the lesser evil of sitting next to the grinning old man rather than a flushed and glossy-eyed young vampire. “Should I just call you Junior?” she asked.

  “You can call me whatever you like,” he said. A sudden coughing fit forced him to take another drink before he asked, “So, what exactly do you assist Steve’s friend with?”

  “Oh, if I had a dollar for every time I was asked that in exactly that tone of voice, I wouldn’t need to work at all,” she said.

  “Oh, you’re a firecracker, aren’t you? Well, you should spend a little time with this young man across the table. He’s quite the charmer, you know. He’s just like his old man.”

  Georgia did one more round of double takes. She found herself staring at two pairs of identical brown eyes and pointy little chins.

  “Oh, I’ve had enough of Steve’s charms to last a lifetime,” she sighed. Before she could continue, menus and settings were plopped in front of both her and Mr. Lambley, while their rather bored looking waiter rattled off some sort of special that featured even more red meat.

  “You should really try this waggy-u beef or whatever it’s called.

  It’s from Japan, and they massage it, and feed it beer, and it just melts in your mouth,” Junior offered.

  “Well, I know she loves Japanese, just like my sister… err half-sister,” Steve added quickly. He ignored the dirty look from Georgia and informed the waiter that his new guests would help them finish off their current bottles. “And have a steak, Gingersnaps. Test those chompers out.”

  Georgia did take a moment to steal one of Steve’s french fries.

  “Those are terrible for you, you know,” she muttered before stealing a small handful more. She surveyed the spread of meat, potatoes and booze, as well as more butter than could be found in a Julia Child cookbook. Out of defiance, she ordered a pile of leafy greens with beets and other alien sources of fiber and vitamins. The old man stared at her.

  “You aren’t one of those vegetarians, are you?” Junior asked as he actually slid an inch to the right.

  “Guilty as charged,” she said before trying a sip of a wine that was bottled before she was even born. “Damn, this is good.”

  “Next summer you’ll get to try bottles from the eighties again,”

  Steve added.

  “The eighteen-eighties,” Geoffrey added proudly.

  Junior, however, was apparently still hung up on the young lady’s eating habits. He took another bite of his perfectly pink strip and all but ogled the meaty juices pooled on his plate.

  “So, were your parent’s hippies or what?” he asked.

  “Oh, definitely, not hippies. One dad was a vegetarian and he cooked for me when I was little. I think I ended up this way because I went on strike for peanut butter and banana sandwiches until I was

  five. You haven’t lived until you’ve dipped one of those in chocolate pudding and watched Sesame Street.”

  “But don’t you have to eat a lot of beans?” Junior asked. “Doesn’t that make you—?”

  “Junior!” Steve interjected.

  Georgia had to giggle. “I can talk about my gas all night, if you like,” she said. “Especially if there is more of this wine.”

  They ended up finishing the first bottle as well as the one that Steve had switched out with something he called the Once Bitten special. True to her word, Georgia explained both epic flatulence and the meaning of life without bacon, while the three boys told tales of gambling and strippers.

  While they were waiting for dessert, Junior leaned over again and gave another point to the young-looking man across the table. A few glasses of wine had made Steve’s smile a little whiter and his eyes a little brighter. She even snuck a wistful smile his way, while he was laughing over some Hollywood story with Mr. Lambley.

  “I’m just saying, Steve’s young, and he’s got cash in the bank.

  You could do far worse than a guy like him,” Junior sighed. “Plus, he’s the kind of kid who takes an old man out of the town when he could be escorting a young lady like you.”

  “Oh, come on, Junior, this is a night for you,” Steve sighed. “Stop trying to convince poor Georgia of the truth. I’ll get around to that myself, right, Sweetheart?”

  Georgia rolled her eyes. “Keep telling yourself that, Steve. So, what are we celebrating tonight?”

  “Tonight, we are celebrating life,” Steve said as he raised his glass, “And how precious it is.”

  “I guess I can drink to that,” Georgia said with a sad smile.

  “I think I need another drink,” Maria said as she slumped over her kitchen counter. Paige obliged by pouring the last of a bottle of

  cheap Chianti. She stared worriedly at her mother’s nearly untouched plate of pasta.

  “You might want to eat a little something to sop that up,” Paige warned. Maria replied by twirling two strands of linguini around her fork and shoving it into her mouth.

  “I’m the worst daughter in the history of daughters,” the elder DeMarco sobbed. “This is God’s punishment for wishing that my father was dead. This is fitting.”

  Paige took her empty plate to the sink where a worried looking Morgan was busy scraping before loading the dishwasher. “Is she going to be all right?” he muttered.

  “Chianti just brings out the Italian in her,” Paige reassured him.

  “Maybe we should try telling her the truth?”

  “What? That her dead grandfather kidnapped her dad? Have you got an easy way to explain that?”

  “And you’re sure?”

  “Both Toy and I smelled him there, plus he’s the only one who wouldn’t show up on security cameras, and he’s got that way of making you forget. I just need to know why he took Grandpa—”

  “I’m pretty sure that bloodsuckers don’t need reasons for the horrible things that they do,” Morgan growled. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this. You just try to get some food into your mom.”

  Maria continued to shake her head with shame. “I hated that he smoked. I hated that he drank and, lord knows, he screwed around on Mom every chance he got,” she muttered between nibbles. “Do you think he pissed off a nurse or one of the other patients? He could totally piss off anyone in about a minute flat—”

  “Mom, Toy interviewed everyone. The staff were clueless—”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” Maria said with a bitter laugh. She poked at her plate of food again. “I’ve got two events to cater for, and my head isn’t even far enough out of my ass to make a decent aglio e olio.”

  “Mom, dinner was fine. Morgan and I had two helpings each—”

  “The pasta is overcooked, and the garlic is too raw,” Maria sighed. “You don’t think he owed money, do you?”

  Paige stopped to look at her phone. “Mom, I just got a text that Toy is following up on a lead right now. She says that someone saw

  a white van leave the parking lot on black Friday. She’s hoping to run a partial plate. It’s a lead, OK?”

  Maria smiled her first weak smile. “I like that girl,” she muttered before chugging the rest of her wine. “I’m just going to lie down for a minute, sweetie.”

  Paige helped her mom to the sofa where she settled her in with a silly movie and a comfy throw. Paige gave up on her eating and brought the plate over to a concerned Morgan.

  “Someone saw a van?” he asked.

  “No, but it’s better than saying that Toy confirmed that our vampire buddy left town on a private jet, and no one knows where he went once he arrived in New York City.”

  “Vampire central,” Morgan snarled. “As much as I hate to say it

  —”

  “Lorcan is trying to find him too. I mean, you don’t think that Great-Grandpa Steve is going to try and, you know—” she trailed off and shuddered.

  Morgan wrapped a damp arm around her. As she leaned against him and listened to the reassuring sound of his heart, she started to calm down. Unfortunately, the moment she looked over at her mother’s normally harmless stainless-steel fridge, she saw a pair of bright green eyes staring back at her. She squeezed Morgan around the waist.

  “One sec, nature calls,” she said.

  Her skin crawled as she wandered back to her mother’s bathroom. She stared at the scratched tiles and the tear in the shower curtain. Her heart raced even more as she felt the cold radiating from the shadow behind said curtain.

  “Jesus!” she snapped as she shut the door.

  “You’re only saying that because I’ve come back from the dead,”

  Lorcan teased as he peered around the tear. The bright color in his eyes and the flush of his cheeks revealed that he was recently fed well.

  “How the hell are you in the bathroom? That is the real you, right?” she asked.

  He stepped out of the tub and squeezed her arm. “Real enough?

  Tell me, are you having trouble telling the difference? Are you still seeing—?”

 

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