AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Ashe rolls his eyes and Kasar huffs, shaking his head while Deidre laughs. Eloise leans forward and throws a crouton at me.
“Just say thank you, jackass,” she admonishes, but I see the amusement in her eyes.
A strange sensation twists and ropes through my chest, one I haven’t felt since the days before that eventful night in the wilderness of the Russian border with Sergi and my other soldiers. A small part of me—a very, extremely miniscule part—wonders how it’s possible that these people still consider me one of their own after how clear I’ve made my own opinions of my position within the clan.
Clearing my throat, I ignore that part of me and return to Ambrose’s question from earlier. Looking towards Malachi, I give him a nod.
“Have you narrowed down the locations of where you’d open the lounge? The last you spoke of it, you’d only had a general idea.” The topic switches to Malachi’s plans for his burlesque lounge readily, my business regarding Oberon dropped for now. My mother, Eloise, and Deidre excuse themselves to their own work, leaving us to debate the merits of Topside districts.
With the new council member, Michael Garner, under Ambrose’s compulsion—a rare ability only some of the oldest, more powerful vampires have, Ambrose has given the Nightshades the clear to move forward into expanding our reach out of the Barrows and more firmly into Topside. While the city is our unofficial territory, the Rapture leak and Michael Garner’s attempt, with the help of the prominent Holland family, to establish their own crime syndicate north of the river revealed the time had come for the Nightshades to expand.
For almost two centuries, we have controlled Oldgate, back when it was little more than a small seaport in a growing country, but for many reasons, we have kept our businesses within the old borders. First, it was to protect the supernaturals who looked to us for safety from the humans that refused to acknowledge the truth of our existence, then it was to give them employment, acceptance, and a community in a world that continued to grow more hostile to our kind.
Now a majority of humanity believes vampires like us are nothing more than figments of imagination, only found in books or television.
The brain fascinates me when I consider how much effort it must take to convince itself of such beliefs.
We move on from discussing potential locations, with Malachi settling between either Pearl District—a liberal, artistic, and cultural focused area, and the more potentially lucrative Trade District, where many high-end restaurants already cater to the multi-million-dollar corporations occupying the numerous high-rises making up the center of Topside.
My phone rings, a not uncommon occurrence, but the ringtone is one that has me going on alert and standing from the table. Ambrose, Kasar, Ashe, and Malachi all look at me, their eyes hard and jaws tight as I answer.
“Little Bird?”
I don’t look at them. I know I couldn’t keep the true concern out of my voice. Why is she calling me in the middle of the day?
Her breath is unsteady and I’m about to bite out her name when, finally, she answers.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice is hoarse and choked, as if she’s trying not to cry, and an irrational anger fills me. “I—just. I just needed to get away from him. Can I come over? Oh, god, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t just invite myself to—”
“Where are you?”
Ashe is rising, all of them able to hear her on the phone. Ambrose nods to me and for once I don’t feel the typical resentment at the dismissal and return the gesture before following Ashe towards the underground parking garage.
I can hear cars and people in the background, but nothing identifiable enough to pinpoint her location.
“Uh,” she trails off, breathing out a half-hysterical laugh. “Shit, I don’t even know. I just dropped a pin somewhere in Oldgate without looking and I’ve been walking around since. Oh, there’s a coffee shop at the corner called Black Death Beanery. Kinda morbid, if you ask me.”
I look at Ashe as we stride through the door into the garage and towards the Mercedes-Benz S-Class he prefers.
“She’s at Darcelle’s,” I tell him as he unlocks the car and he nods. The coffee shop is witch-owned and operated, and also a favorite of Eris’s—the chaos demon who has been possessing the body of Ashe’s wife for almost a hundred and fifty years now. She once said it was because of the proximity to where she lives, above the nondescript brick building that the drug we create and control Rapture is produced at. But Eris once stopped an attempted robbery when one of the gunman turned his weapon on Darcelle herself, and the demon does nothing out of the kindness of her heart, which means I’m convinced Eris actually likes Darcelle.
“Go inside there and wait,” I instruct Wren, biting back the urge to scold her for blindly going into the Barrows after what happened last time. “Get a drink, and something to eat, Little Bird. Tell them to put it on Landon’s tab. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” I get into the front seat, closing the door and then growl into the phone. “And don’t move that ass of yours, or I’ll bend you over my knee and turn it red.”
Chapter Sixteen
WREN
I’d left my father’s building in a bleary-eyed haze. On autopilot, I’d informed Simon I didn’t need him, the lie of remaining at my father’s coming too easily, then I’d ordered a rideshare as I left the building, not even caring where I asked to be taken. I just knew I couldn’t stay in Newgate, and the Barrows had Landon.
It should terrify me how quickly I’m becoming attached to the vampire. I’ve avoided any meaningful relationships, knowing there was never any future in them. Anyone who expressed interest in me wanted my connections more than they wanted me, and I learned quickly enough to never let them get close. One time was all it took.
Landon defies my boundaries, my walls I’ve perfected to keep my heart safe. The walls that let me endure Oberon’s increasingly high expectations and demands. It’s all too clear, now, that the walls kept most of the pain out but has allowed me to be buried alive.
When sense began to clear the haze, I’d called the only person I really wanted to see. I probably should have called Niamh, since she’s been telling me for years that I need to get out from under my father’s thumb and take control of my own life. She’d let me curl up on her lap even, but it isn’t her arms I want around me.
Now I’m still half-adrift in a more cheerful than expected coffee shop, staring blankly at the board while waiting for the woman ahead of me to finish talking to the barista. For such a morbid name, Black Death Beanery is cozy and light, with an eclectic decor. None of the furniture matches in style, color or patterns, the walls are exposed brick around the black steel industrial windows dominating the two exterior walls. Even the lighting fixtures are centerpieces, with each ceiling light being a different chandelier style.
Nothing is new, and it only adds to my certainty that the owner must shop primarily from thrift shops. I like it. It adds so much to the coffee shop and reveals a lot about the owner.
