whining.'
'Cops would’ve worked with a medical condition, Margrit.' Cole’s voice remained stiff.
Margrit sighed. 'Maybe. But he felt like he couldn’t go to them.' She closed her mouth on further explanations, painfully aware that they, too, would fall short.
Cole eyed her a moment, then let it go. 'So what’s he do for a living, if he can’t go out during the day?'
'He’s got, what do you call it? Means. Not rich, but he doesn’t work.' Margrit rolled her head against the wall, trying to shake off a little of the alcohol. 'He does soup kitchen volunteering and stuff. He’s a decent guy.'
'How does he know Eliseo Daisani? Hey! Hey, taxi!' Cameron’s whistle ripped along the street, shocking Margrit into wakefulness. A cab down the block flipped its turn signal off and came toward them as Margrit took careful, precise steps toward the curb.
'They belonged to the same exclusive club when they were younger. Guess they still do. They’re not friends. They just know each other. I don’t know if anybody’s friends with Daisani.' Margrit bit her tongue to keep from babbling as Cole opened the cab door for her with a gallant flourish.
'So how come you took the job, anyway, Grit?' His question followed her into the taxi a moment before he did.
'It was better to have him over a barrel than be over one myself,' she answered with forthright honesty, then made duck lips at him. 'You’re asking me questions because I’m too drunk to think before answering, aren’t you?'
'Absolutely. Why’d you break up with me in college?'
Margrit threw her head back and laughed out loud, as Cole looked pleased with himself. Even Cameron laughed, too, giving the driver their address before saying, 'Even I know that one. Everybody says you had all the chemistry of wet flour. Too bad. You’re very pretty together.'
The cab pulled up in front of their apartment building and Margrit paid, then put her hands out toward her housemates. 'Help, please.' They drew her from the taxi, trying not to laugh openly as she staggered to keep her feet. 'You’re horrible friends,' she told them. 'Laughing at my misfortune. I get dumped and drunk and never did get any ice cream and you’re laughing at me.' She shook their hands off, drawing herself up to her full three inches over five feet in height. 'I’m going to get ice cream.'
'Wired on sugar and buzzed on alcohol,' Cole said to Cam. 'I think we should go with her and watch this.'
'Good. You can buy me ice cream. I just spent all my money on the cab.' Margrit reeled around and marched off to the convenience store.
CHAPTER 21
'Margrit.' Alban stepped out of an alley, realizing his error when Margrit shrieked and stumbled away. He knew the pair she was with from glimpses through doors and a few seconds of watching them at the ice rink. The slender blond woman with the broad shoulders was Cameron, and she yelped as well, clutching Margrit’s arm. Their escort was Cole, black-haired, shorter than Cameron, and instinctively protective as he stepped in front of the women. Alban opened his mouth and shut it again, startled at his own loss for words. 'Forgive me,' he said after a few seconds. 'I didn’t intend to alarm anyone.'
Cole’s belligerent growl died in his throat, stance relaxing a little as he half recognized Alban, though he cast a glance at Margrit for a cue as to how to behave. She said, 'Alban,' in relieved exasperation as she edged past Cole. 'What are you doing here?'
'No one was home at your apartment.' He made a small gesture, more to the sky than the buildings. 'I waited, and when I heard your voice, I…' Words failed him again, this time because the truth seemed peculiarly ludicrous in the presence of Margrit’s housemates. It was easy to say 'I came down from the rooftops' to Margrit, but not when Cole and Cameron stared curiously at him. 'Forgive me,' he said again, and drew himself up. 'I’m Alban Korund. We’ve never quite met.' He offered a hand to Cole, wondering if the human male would take it.
Margrit muttered a curse and said, 'Sorry,' more clearly. 'Sorry, sorry. Cole, Cameron, this is…this is Alban. These are my housemates, Cole Grierson and Cameron Dugan. Shit. Sorry. I’ve had too much to drink.'
Cole scowled between Margrit to Alban before Cameron inserted herself in front of him. 'Hi. I’m Cam. I’m glad we’re finally getting a chance to meet you.' She shook Alban’s hand with an unexpectedly firm grip and offered a warm smile. 'We’re on our way to get some ice cream, just to make sure Margrit’s really hungover in the morning. Want to come along?'
'Oh,' Alban said. 'I-'
'Might as well.' Cole, clearly outplayed by Cameron, set his jaw, then shook Alban’s hand without making a contest of it. 'Sorry about the last time we met.' There was little apology in his voice, but Alban inclined his head, in recognition of the form, if not Cole’s sincerity.
'You had cause to be suspicious. It’s good that Margrit’s friends care enough to protect her.'
'That’s ancient history now,' Cameron said firmly. 'Come on. Grit’s out of money, so we have to buy her her drug of choice. Triple-chocolate fudge ripple with brownie chunks.'
Margrit smiled tentatively. 'That sounds good. Except…what’s going on, Alban?' Her smile faded. 'It’s pushing three in the morning. What’re you doing here? I thought you were watching…'
'I was.' Alban’s voice dropped to a rumble. 'He gave me cause to seek you out.'
Margrit drew in a slow breath, nostrils flaring. Her gaze cleared, as though however much she’d had to drink only needed a firm chastisement to leave her system. A single sip of a vampire’s blood offered health, but whether that chased away the ravages of alcohol, Alban didn’t know. From Margrit’s sudden steadiness, it seemed that it might. She said, 'Shit,' without the earlier enthusiasm. 'Guys, can you-'
'Come on, Grit.' Cole’s voice had an edge. 'You’re not going to go running off again, are you? We can get some ice cream and chips and beer and stay up all night getting to know each other. Won’t that be fun?'
Cameron elbowed him, then slid her arm through his and tugged. 'Sure, Grit. Catch up to us, will you?'
'Cam.'
'Cole.'
'It can wait,' Alban said abruptly. Margrit caught her breath and he offered her a cautious smile. 'A little while. Long enough for ice cream, certainly. I can’t stay all night,' he added, returning his attention to Cole. 'I have to leave before dawn.'
'All right.' Cameron pushed the store door open and squinted at the brightness within. 'Everybody break for the freezer section. I’ll get the chips and meet you at the cash register. Go, go, go!' She and Cole went opposite directions, leaving Margrit and Alban at the door.
Margrit offered a brief smile. 'I’ve been eyeball deep in your world. Welcome to mine.'
Gladness surged through him at the welcome, surprising him with its strength. A smile that felt foolish worked its way into place. 'Thank you. I want to be here.' That, too, had a more powerful ring of truth to it than he expected, and for a moment he was relieved that stone wasn’t given to blushing. 'Margrit, I am sorry for these complications. For my choices that have made things more difficult for you. For-' He broke off.
'Alban, why are you here? What’d Malik do?' Margrit’s eyes and stance had cleared considerably in the time they’d been together, though the scent of alcohol still hung about her. He refrained from asking after her condition, suspecting she was unaware of her own recovery.
Alban cast a glance over her head toward the convenience store. 'Nothing yet, and he won’t as long as I’m with you. Explaining can wait until after the ice cream.'
'Oh, so you’re back on my watch, are you?' Margrit’s tone was more laced with rue than acid.
Alban lowered his gaze. 'I am, if you’ll have me back.'
Margrit sighed. 'It’s not as much fun running in the park when I don’t trust you’re there to watch my back. Just try not to do the strong silent hero thing again, Alban. I want a partner, not a protector. Can you do that?'
