“Oh, look at these!” Claire picks up one of the taller mugs that I’d decorated with a bright pink glaze dribbled over the rim, as if a unicorn has thrown up inside. “These are adorable! And after I drink my chocolate, I can keep the cup? That’s so clever— Oh, hi, Winnie!”
Claire beams at Winnie as if she only just noticed her, but I am certain Claire saw Winnie across the green.
Winnie’s fingers seek mine beneath the table. I give her hand a squeeze. My fangs drop.
“Er, hi, Winnie.” Patrick takes a step back. His eyes flick to me, and he quickly looks away. “And Albert, was it?”
“Alaric,” I growl, lifting the corner of my lip to give him a glimpse of fang.
Patrick shudders.
“Darling, we have to get some mugs for our new place.” Claire sifts through the pink-hued ones. “I think a set of six, for when we have friends like Winnie and Alaric over for dinner?—”
I don’t miss the desperate look Patrick shoots Winnie over his fiancée’s shoulder. I may have been shut away from the world for centuries, but Iknowthe meaning in that look. Patrick likes towin. He is a different type of collector than I am. I have a house filled with objects because they’re safer and more interesting than people. Patrick likes to collect things – and people – to say that he owns them. He likes to feel as though he has the best prize. He’s wondering if maybe he gave Winnie up too soon.
Winnie, thankfully, is blissfully unaware of her effect on Patrick. She stirs the hot chocolate, chatting away to thevillagers lining up at our booth as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Beside her, I feel awkward – too tall, too dark, too undead.
I’d feel better with a sword in my hand.
And Patrick’s head on a spike.
I am more like my mother than I like to admit.
I thought that when I bared my fangs at him last time, that would be enough to keep him away from Winnie. But this human doesn’t know when to quit.
Patrick pays for two cups of hot chocolate and a set of six mugs. As he hands over his money, he leans in and whispers something to Winnie. He doesn’t realise that with my superior senses, I hear every word.
“Winnie, can I meet you by the bookshop when the bonfire starts? Everyone will be distracted.”
“Why?”
“I can’t tell you now, but it’s important. You need to come alone. I have something to tell you about your boyfriend and the murder that happened here a few weeks ago.”
Winnie fumbles the cup she’s holding. I catch it midair before it smashes on the ground, my eyes never leaving her face. She studies Patrick with a mixture of curiosity and … is that longing? Fear?
She nods, and returns to plonking marshmallows into people’s drinks. But I can’t return to my easy chatter with the humans. I glare at the back of Patrick’s head, imagining how great it would look mounted above my fireplace.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
WINNIE
Mum: When are you coming back to live with me, darling? I’ve cleared the boxes out of your room. It’s all clean and devoid of personality, just the way you like it. Oh, except for the sundresses. I’ve left a bunch on your bed. You’ll thank me when you’re married and pregnant.
Alaric goes all surly after Claire and Patrick stop by. I can’t say I blame him. He would have overheard Patrick begging me to meet him later. Patrick isn’t acting like himself. I watch him as Claire drags him over to Beth’s Zen and Tonic stall. His eyes dart all around and he keeps his arm protectively around Claire’s waist.
He was never touchy-feely like that with me.
But more than that, he looks spooked, as if he thinks a monster is about to leap out from behind the tea cosy stall and eviscerate him.
It’s a good thing I convinced Alaric to leave his sword at home.
I turn back to Alaric, who scowls at Patrick’s back. But then a little girl asks him to help her pick a mug, and he selectsone of the slightly lopsided ones with a beautiful teal glaze that matches the ribbon in her hair.
“It’s a fairy pot,” she cries, handing the pot to Reginald so he can fill it with ice and chocolate. “For mixing spells.”
“Of course,” Alaric says. “But remember that fairies are tricksy, so you have to drink all your chocolate, or they will turn it into something gross, like boogers.” The girl giggles.
“Attention, everyone!” Komal calls into her megaphone. “Please gather in the centre of the green. Stallholders, please close up shop for the next half hour. We will be lighting the bonfire in ten minutes. Ten minutes until the bonfire!”
