Page 11 of Death Dance

FOUR

I’ve decided you’re getting a cool mug, Dad.

For better or worse, my father decided to show up the next night in anticipation of the Sleepers—and at least one of the Originals—arriving at our home. To distract myself from the whole mess, I worked, checking into legal loopholes while searching for any sign of the bastard who’d killed so many women, myself included.

It had taken me two mountainous plates of mashed potatoes slathered in gravy and crushing the hopes of a mere slice of bread to come to terms with the idea I had, in actuality, died and returned to the ground to recover from the ordeal I could not remember.

With luck, those memories would remain gone.

Had I been born in any other way, I never would have risen from that shallow grave.

“I’ve decided you’re getting a cool mug, Dad,” I hollered from my office.

My father, who spoke with Emerick, Clarke, my brothers, and my mother in the sitting room, laughed at my comment. A few moments later, the lot of them came into my domain. My mother raised a brow at me. “You came around a few centuries faster than I expected. What changed your mind?”

“I like what he told me and find his purpose and convictions to my taste. He is also wise enough to approve of Emerick.”

My husband laughed, shook his head, and wandered away, heading in the direction of the kitchen.

“Coffee, please,” I called after him.

A few moments later, the doorbell rang, and I expected a dispute to begin within moments.

Emerick would prioritize my coffee and make it clear our guests came second place to me, his wife. Most days, I appreciated that.

Some, like tonight, I worried about the consequences of his behavior.

“Don’t fret,” my father advised. “Most of the Sleepers are your cousins, either once or twice removed. My uncle—or uncles, depending on how many decide to come out of hiding—are not what you likely expect. There has been peace in our family for many a year despite everything that happened.”

“But you had to kill your own grandfather,” I murmured.

“And they were grateful for the freedom I was able to offer them. I had help, although I didn’t need it. My grandfather had become twisted, and while we grieved for his descent into madness, we have been able to accept all he was and what he became before his final death. And yes, I confirmed he had truly perished and cannot rise from the ground.”

That was something, I supposed. “I’ll try to resist any urges to stake any unknown vampires entering my space.”

My father raised a brow.

I reached across my desk, grabbed my phone off its cradle, and pressed the speed dial button to call Ben’s cell phone. After two rings, he answered, “What can I do for you, Pepper?”

“Did our guests arrive?”

“They have. I’m in the reception. Emerick is about to take them to your kitchen, where they can watch him make you coffee. What can I do for you?”

“Make sure Emerick doesn’t pick any fights, please. Apparently, I’m related to most of these vampires, so we’re not allowed to stake them right now.”

My father and Clarke both snickered over my commentary.

“Right now implies you might stake them later.”

“Well, if they misbehave, staking is an option.”

Ben sighed. “I’ll make certain everyone knows you’re feeling rather feisty tonight. Don’t forget to have your Wagyu. You’ll have to wait to have your dessert until after our guests leave.”

I faked a pained sigh over the restriction. “But he’s delicious.”

“You’ll survive.” Ben hung up on me.

My father bowed his head and sighed while my brothers snickered.