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“Your day is long past, John Proof-of-Christ’s-Everlasting-Love Peters.”
Hannah and John’s on-again, off-again vibe—which currently sounded off again—was Ashley’s favorite form of entertainment at the house. This was basicallyDark Shadows. She would watch the box set with her mom after dinner when her dad worked night shifts. Her mom would love to hear about the Family. Not that she could tell her anything. She did her best to ignore the tightening in her chest.
“Hey there, chickadee,” a voice whispered, inches from Ashley’s ear.
Ashley nearly jumped out of her skin.
Cynthia, the fifth and last of the core vampire Family, stood so close she nearly smacked Ashley in the face with the gold hoop earrings cutting through her straight, blond hair. She let out a cackle at Ashley’s flinch.
“Shh,” Ashley hissed.
Changed sometime in the 1970s at twenty-three, Cynthia was the closest in both apparent age and actual age to Ashley.
Ashley turned back to the door, answering in a hushed voice. “I’m waiting for them to finish.”
“Oh, sure. No worries,” Cynthia said. “We still on for this weekend?”
She couldn’t hear Hannah and John anymore, which meant they’d probably heard her and Cynthia out in the hall. Shetried pulling Cynthia away from the door, anything to look less suspicious.
“Yes. I got the flyer you left.” Ashley wasn’t sure what else to add to make Cynthia get the hint and leave. “Looks good.”
“Cool beans.” Cynthia shot her a finger gun, jumped onto the stair banister, and shot out of sight as Hannah’s door squeaked open behind Ashley.
She took a moment to contemplate that, if they’d accepted the lawless Cynthia into the Family, surely Ashley could make it in too, before turning to find John glowering down at her.
“H-hi, John.”
He was in his usual costume—starched white button-down and black slacks purchased presumably a half-century ago and meticulously maintained for longevity. During a speech about the “frivolity of modern dress,” she learned that he possessed an excessive six sets of this outfit and a “finer” one reserved for Sundays and important guests. Not that they ever had guests.
“Are you in need of assistance?” he drawled.
Ashley was not short, but John and his lean frame towered over her. Weren’t people short back in the 1600s? John must have come from the same stock as Lincoln.
“I was just looking for—” Ashley started.
“Is that the new child?” Hannah said from behind John.
Ashley cringed at the label but schooled her expression when Hannah pushed her way past him. It was impressive how much space such a small person could take up. Hannah came to Ashley’s shoulder and John’s chest. Her yellow hair was parted in the middle and fastened into a low bun in the back. What she lacked in height and adventurous hair, she made up for in loud, floral prints. Today was a high-waisted, cobalt maxi dress with a matching blue blazer covered in bold red poppies.
“I need to speak with you.” Ashley sneaked a glance at John. “In private.”
Hannah squinted at her. Maybe she didn’t think Ashley’s comment was worth the effort of privacy, but she turned to John and nodded him away before gesturing for Ashley to follow her into her room and closing the door behind them.
The original dark oak accents and walls of the master bedroom had been painted a pale, pea-soup green. Their steps faded in the truly horrendous hunter green-and-gold floral carpet. The four-poster bed, which dominated half the space, sported another pattern and a slightly different shade of green, and Ashley again marveled at how Hannah could be so fastidious and so gaudy at the same time. Was there some spark she couldn’t see that drew Hannah to the stiff and colorless John, or was it just a lack of better options? What did that do to their sex life?
Nope. Not going there. Ashley shook the thought out of her head and turned back to Hannah. Best to get this over with.
“I met someone claiming to be your nephew,” Ashley said.
Hannah didn’t answer but gave a small huff of disapproval or acknowledgment that Ashley had spoken. After five years apart, she’d lost her ability to read people in this house. She wasn’t even sure Hannah and John were still doing the will-they, won’t-they thing.
So, Ashley kept talking. “And I know what he is. I told him his kind wasn’t allowed in vampire territory, but he seemed to know this and felt exempt.” It wasn’t a question, but her sentence curled up at the end.
“He is an exception.” Hannah’s response started slowly then picked up to her usual clip as her thought finalized. “And we do not talk about him.”
That was an answer. Not a satisfying one, but at least she was getting somewhere.
“I guess that’s all I really had to say.” Ashley regretted bringing up the topic. She’d just jeopardized her precariousposition over a witch. “Just wanted to make sure everything was cool and all. I’ll just…”
