Add everything up about both vampires, and I come to the conclusion that Michael will not delegate hunting Nice to his men. Michael plans to go after Nice on his own.
He doesn’t stand a chance.
Only I do. If I can find out where Nice is hiding, I’ll be able to figure out his next move. I know his tricks. I know his blind spots. I spent five years living with him and his childlike mind.
I have to get to Nice before Michael. But where do I start looking?
My mind only offers one solution: Alex. He and Lula are close, so if anyone’s heard from her, it’s him. And it shouldn’t be too hard to track him down. Vampires are notorious gossipers. One post in the Vampire Knitting Club on Facebook, and I’ll have an address.
My mind skips over to Stella and how she’s going to react when I leave, even though I’ve prepared her for this possibility. Like my parents did with me, Stella and I have a secret language. I taught it to her while we were in Nice’s “care.” I did it because I wanted her to know what to do if things ever went sideways.
I unbuckle my seat belt and go to the back to sit beside Stella for a moment before we deplane. Leaving her in the care of Freddy and whoever else is on point will take every ounce of strength I’ve got. But if I truly want Nice dead, I have to do this. For her. For us. And let’s face it, for the lace factory employees and those two authors in hiding in Alaska—according to the latest vampire gossip.
I plop down next to Stella. “How are you feeling after the long flight?”
“Good, Mommy. I watched my favorite episodes twice.” She’s still in her pink princess dress, looking sweeter than ever despite her hair having come undone from the ponytail.
I brush her messy blonde hair from her face. “Well, when we get to the safe house, you and I will practice our letters together. What do you think if we work on your Es and Bs? You love words that start with those letters.” E is for emergency. B is for being brave.
Stella blinks up at me, and I see the fear in her big brown eyes.
“Okay,” I add, “and the D words, too. Dog, donut, dragonfly.” D is for: Don’t show what you’re feeling. Think of things you like instead. Stella loves dogs, donuts, and dragonflies.
She forces a smile onto her tiny lips.
That’s my girl.
“Mommy, you said I could have ice cream tonight. How many scoops?” She’s really asking how long I’ll be gone, and it takes everything I have to not tear up. The truth is, I might never return, and leaving her to grow up without me is more than I can bear. But living under constant threat from Nice is not an option. He nearly killed me today.
“Oh, what a memory you have,” I say. “I did promise you ice cream, didn’t I? Well, let’s see… If you’re a very good girl, you can have two scoops. No, wait, make that three scoops.” Code for: I will be gone for two or three days.
“Banana flavor,” she says. Stella hates banana. She’s saying she doesn’t like this.
“No. Not banana,” I correct. “Vanilla and chocolate.”
Vanilla means it’s plain, nothing to worry about. Chocolate means to relax. If I had said strawberry, it would mean for her to run and keep running until she could get somewhere safe.
“You are not feeding the child chocolate. She is not old enough.” Michael scowls, hovering over us.
I was so engrossed with my conversation, I didn’t even hear him come up.
“She’s half human, Michael,” I remind him. “It’s perfectly safe for her to have a tiny spoonful.”
“Hmmph!” He turns and starts heading for the exit. “Hurry up, we don’t have time to waste. And ice cream will have to wait.”
I don’t want him to catch on to the secret conversation, so I say, “But I was just telling her all about the ice-cream parlor you opened at headquarters.” Very strange, but I guess he’s got his cover story to maintain. I’ve heard of stranger things for sure. Like vampire Jiffy, who recently opened a hula hoop store down the street from my library. Just hula hoops. Nothing else. And apparently, he’s very old and only eats peanut butter. (Plus the occasional bag of blood.) I think some people never adjust to vampire life and slowly go crazy.
That’ll be me for sure.
“It will have to wait,” Michael calls out. “Come now!”
“Be right there,” I say begrudgingly. “Are you ready, Stella?”
“Where am I going, Mommy?”
“Somewhere safe. Somewhere Mr. Nice can’t find you. And we will bake muffins.” Baking muffins means I love you.
“I like baking muffins,” she says with a subtle sadness.
I offer her my warmest, most loving smile and squeeze her leg. I can’t do anything more than that or Michael might notice. “Goobers. Muffins with Goobers.” Goodbye. I love you.
“We really need to discuss what you are feeding the child!” Michael calls from outside the plane. He can hear us. Of course he can.
I kiss Stella on the forehead. “Let’s go.” I take her by the hand and notice Freddy is right behind us. I can only hope he meant what he said, that he won’t let anything happen to my princess.
We exit the plane and descend the metal stairs. As soon as we get to the bottom, I turn to Stella. It is a frigid February evening. “Oh, God, sweetie, you don’t look so well. Are you all right?”
Right on cue, Stella doubles over and starts screaming. Michael, a few of his guards, and some of the ground crew rush over.
The minute their eyes are on her, I run, leaving the last living piece of my heart behind in the care of the man who doesn’t have one.
CHAPTER NINE
Michael
“What is the matter, child?” I grumble at…at…the child.
