Chapter 1
There was a vampire in my kitchen unpacking a box that had once contained Big-n-Tasty Bananas if the advertisement on the side was to be believed.
It was an unexpected sight–the box, not the vampire. The vampire, I’d known all my life. Old Rossi was the leader, the prime of all the vampires who lived here in the sleepy little coastal town of Ordinary, Oregon.
He was also an old friend of the family.
But I had no idea what that box was all about.
“Who let you in?” I didn’t cross the threshold to the kitchen. A small knot of fear settled in my stomach, stalling my feet. I hated that seeing a friend in my house set off new warning bells in me just because he was a vampire.
It had only been a day since I’d been attacked by another of his kind, though comparing the ancient evil that was Lavius with Rossi was like comparing the plague to a field of poppies. Not that Rossi was harmless and sweet as flowers, but because I’d never seen an evil as horrific as his one-time brother-at-arms Lavius. Also because I wasn’t all that great at clever comparisons.
Rossi turned to face me, a tea kettle in one hand, a small wooden box in the other. “Your door was open because you never lock it, Delaney Reed.”
“Ryder let you in?” I guessed. Not a hard guess. Someone had been standing watch over me since I’d been attacked and bitten by Lavius yesterday, and I was pretty sure both my sisters, Jean and Myra, had only left me to either get some sleep, or deal with the actual job of policing that we all shared.
“He’s going out for food. Pizza, I think he said.” Rossi hadn’t moved. He stood there as if he knew any sudden movement would startle me, the little teal teapot in one hand, the little wooden box in the other, waiting.
He could probably sense my fear.
I hated being afraid of him. Because I wasn’t. Never had been. He was not Lavius. He would never hurt me. I took a deep breath and tried to get my wobbly emotions under control.
“Uh…what are you wearing?” I asked.
One eyebrow arched in faint amusement. “An apron.”
“It has lace.”
“Yes?”
“It’s sort of a pineapple yellow.”
“Pale daffodil,” he corrected.
“And very fluffy. Is that chiffon? Tule?”
He sighed.
“I didn’t know you went for that kind of thing, Rossi. It’s like I’m suddenly seeing a side to you I wished I’d known to exploit.”
“I look amazing in pale yellow. You aren’t making judgements on assumptive stereotypes, are you?”
I grinned. “I think it’s cute you have a lacy apron. Aww…there are little butterflies on the pocket. The more I look at it, the more I think it suits you. You should really wear it more. Maybe when you’re teaching your yoga classes, or when you’re busting heads at vamp meetings.”
He gave me a long, tolerant look. “Are you done?”
I shrugged. And yes, this felt good, felt normal between us. Well, not that he was in my kitchen wearing a frilly apron, but that he was there and I was teasing him and we were okay.
“Where did you get it?”
“Maybe I bought it.”
No way. “Who gave it to you?”
“A woman I knew, years ago.” He turned back around and continued placing things on my countertop: cups, several tins, spoons, a delicate pot that might hold sugar, tiny silver tongs, and a little pitcher. “She had a wicked sense of humor and liked to make me uncomfortable at public events, like charity tea parties.”
“Bertie?” Bertie was our resident Valkyrie and had a thing for organizing every community and charity event in town. I was sensing a story here, so I walked into the kitchen. Just like that, everything in me settled and I was here, home, where I was safe and warm and cared for by my friends and family.
