His eyes nervously shift around and he tries to look inside the house. I can feel Gilbert’s presence behind me, but trust he has enough sense to stay out of sight. I pay for the food and give him a generous tip. He hands over the bags and turns to go but stops before he gets to the first porch step.
“You should leave.” His voice is barely a whisper. “Something doesn’t feel right about this place.” He looks around and shakes his head. “Sorry.” He turns and runs back to his car, peeling out of the driveway as fast as possible.
His words unnerve me, but only for a second. I shut the door and find all four gargoyles standing in the foyer, both waiting for the food and making sure I’m safe. Things might not feelrighthere because what we’ve been forced to believe is right is actually all wrong.
I wave them all into the kitchen and set the food on the table. Thomas and I just hooked up, and the others had to have heard us. Yet none of them are acting like it’s weird.
Jacques gets plates from the cabinet. Hasan fills a glass with water from the tap. Thomas and Gilbert open the bags, curiously looking at the containers of takeout. We’re like a dysfunctional family.
“Are you going to the vampire bar tonight?” Hasan asks, breaking an egg roll in half.
“I feel like I should.” I take a seat closest to the radiator. “Though it kinda just occurred to me I have nothing to wear. I need to fit in, not look like an undercover cop who may or may not have magical powers.”
“You wear less clothing than the women of our time.” Hasan runs his eyes over me, and it’s like he’s stripping me naked right now.
“Yeah, we do. Women’s clothing has been revolutionized over the last few years, though we’re still working on the whole free-the-nipple thing.”
“Your nipples look free.”
I turn my head down, remembering I’m not wearing a bra. The flush is back to my cheeks, but instead of embarrassment, I feel empowered. “I still have to cover them in public.”
“That’s a shame,” Thomas quips.
I shrug. “It’d be nice to be all equal and everything, but we have bigger problems.”
“Like the vampires,” Jacques says.
“Right.” I dig into my fried rice, suddenly realizing how absolutely starving I am. “I need to go to the bar and scope it out. It might be a dead end, but I at least need to look.” Going off the photos I saw on social media, the dress code for Delirium is black, tight, and slutty. My one black dress won’t cut it. I have to go shopping, and I’m not entirely sure where to go for clubwear. And how the hell do I hide my gun if I’m wearing a short dress? Plus running in heels…forget it. I’ll find something in my closet and make it work.
* * *
“I don’t like this.”Jacques crosses his arms, eyes narrowing.
“Too bad.” I lean back on the couch, pulling the blanket over my legs. “To be fair, I don’t like it much either. But like I said before, we don’t have much of a choice.”
“We do.” He paces back and forth in front of the large windows in the living room. There’s a fire going again, and the flames illuminate his wings, highlighting the detail. My mind goes back to what Thomas said about him and how he rejected material wealth. Jacques can read and write in several languages. He had to have come from a rich and noble family.
He turns, eyes zeroing in on me. My heart skips a beat and the memory of him making love to me comes rushing back. I’m still tender from having Thomas’s large cock inside me, yet my body craves another.
“Care to elaborate?”
“Yes. Don’t go in alone.”
“That’s not a plan.” I throw out my hands, exasperated. We’ve been going ’round and ’round in this loop for the last twenty minutes. “That’s the exact opposite of a plan.”
“Plans are carefully formulated.”
“This planiscarefully formulated. I’m going to go back to my apartment, find something sort of sexy to wear, go to the bar, look for anyone with fangs, and be back here by midnight.” I look at the time. “Okay, one AM. I’ll still get five hours of sleep before getting up for work.”
“And if you see a vampire?”
“I’ll leave.”
Jacques raises an eyebrow in question.
“Really,” I tell him. “I haven’t had a chance to make any wooden stakes yet anyway, let alone soak them in holy water. Cutting off heads might be effective, but it’s not really my thing.” I pull my hair into a ponytail, accidentally catching my fingers on the scab on my head.
“Are you all right?” Jacques takes my hand, pulling it away from my head. “That doesn’t look good.”
