My stomach churns as I stand on the porch in front of 111 E Bellevue, the handle of my rolling carry-on bag in hand. It’s twilight, and I’m bundled in my puffer jacket against a bitter Midwestern cold snap. A trio of children dressed as witches walks down the sidewalk toward me, pumpkin baskets swinging from their elbows. Halloween. I’ve been so busy and distracted with surviving, I’d lost track of the date until I boarded the plane and spotted a pumpkin broach on the flight attendant. How is it already October 31st?
“Trick or treat,” the three sing in unison from the bottom of the stairs. Shit, I’m standing outside the door. They probably think I live here.
“Um…” I dig in my purse for some candy. I might have some mints or something. I find Purell. “Hand sanitizer?” I ask them, holding it up.
All three tuck their chins in and mumble, “No, thanks,” as they start for the open iron gate and their waiting parents.
The door to the house behind me opens. “How about Heath bars?”
I turn around to see a sophisticated black man in a turtleneck and slacks holding out a bucket of full-size candy bars. The girls squeal in delight, rushing up the flight of stairs to us to each take one and politely say thank you. Once they’re gone, the man’s warm caramel-colored eyes fall on me. Those eyes. They’re different from Damien’s but still appear lit from within, a characteristic I’ve learned is common in both shades and vampires.
“Cassius?” I ask.
“You must be Eloise.” His soft smile is welcoming but also confusing. We’ve never met.
“How do you know who I am?”
He gives a warm laugh. “Damien is normally a male of few words, but he was positively chatty when it came to talking about you. I’ve seen your picture.”
“Trick or treat!” A group of six boys, all dressed as Marvel characters, pushes past me to get to the candy. The parents wave to us, and we wave back.
Once they’re out of earshot, I whisper, “Damien’s in trouble. Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”
He nods and opens the door wider to reveal a foyer with ecru walls and a vase of white flowers at its center. I walk inside and he locks up behind us, turning off the porch light. “We’d better move to the back of the house.” He points his chin toward the living room and the hall beyond. “If they see lights on, they’ll keep ringing.”
“You live here? Aboveground?” I’d assumed he’d live like Damien did.
He tips his head toward the street. “I like the families in this neighborhood, human and otherwise. The windows are coated with a film that blocks out the UV light, and my bedroom has curtains. It’s a comfortable existence and one financed by the vampire coven I serve.”
He leads me toward the back of the house, turning off lights as he goes. I follow him, rolling my bag behind me, through a perfectly appointed living room and a white marble kitchen with top-end appliances. We stop in a cozy sitting area that ends in a wall of windows with a set of French doors. I find myself enchanted by the charming outdoor living space beyond, canopied in strings of white lights and a brick fireplace warmed by a roaring fire.
“You’ve come a long way,” he says from behind me.
At the sound of his voice, I start and turn around to face him. “I did. I hope you don’t mind my showing up like this. Damien gave me your address, but I could find no phone number to let you know I was coming.”
“I keep it private. But you’re welcome here. Any friend of Damien’s is a friend of mine.”
My cheeks heat, and I glance at the rug. “I’m more than his friend. I’m his mate.”
“Official then?”
I nod. “I’m here because Damien said he thought of you as a brother. He’s in trouble. We need your help.”
He takes a deep breath, his bright white smile fading slightly. “Damien is a brother to me. You came to the right place.” He hesitates as if searching for the right words and then breaks again into a welcoming smile. “Where are my manners? Would you like something to drink?”
“Anything is fine.” It’s not difficult to deduce he’s avoiding the part about helping. He hasn’t even asked what happened to Damien. I glare at him, wondering how much he already knows.
“Sparkling water?”
I nod, although in truth I feel like I need something stronger. The stress I’ve been under the past few weeks has given me a permanent ache in my shoulders. I roll them a few times and crack my neck.
He must notice because he says, “Would you like some vodka with that tonic?”
I blow out a fast breath. The truth is I’d love a drink, but as much as Damien trusts Cassius, I don’t know him, and this is no time to lower my guard. “No, thanks. I’ll take a lime if you have one though.”
He gives a low chuckle. “I do.”
He moves to the kitchen and starts filling two cut-crystal glasses. I turn back toward the outdoor fireplace and notice a book open on one of the end tables in the seating area.
