If he stayed here instead of going with Edward, he’d become more of a target, not less. Not to mention the fact that we’d almost certainly be fighting like cats and dogs inside of an hour. Sad to say, any recent improvements in our relationship were largely down to him being almost completely non-verbal after suffering Fae-induced catatonia.
And what did that say about our family dynamic? Yeesh.
“Fine,” Dad said. His washed-out hazel eyes moved to Rans, and narrowed. “Now, though, I want to have a word with this guy. In private.”
And, oh my god, were we really going to go there? Now, of all possible times?
Apparently we were, because Rans held his gaze, one of those sharp smiles that had nothing to do with humor cutting across his face in slow motion.
“Oh, yes,” he said, low and dangerous. “By all means, Mr. Bright. Let’s you and I go have a nice little talk. In private.”
EIGHT
“RANS,” I SAID, feeling suddenly exhausted. “If you ever want to get laid again, do not injure, traumatize, mesmerize, exsanguinate, or otherwise damage my father.” I turned to Dad. “And, you. Please keep in mind that I’m twenty-six, not sixteen. Also, that I’d be about ten different kinds of dead right now if not for the guy you’re busy glaring at.”
“Certainly, love,” Rans said, in a deceptively mild tone that might have been more reassuring if he weren’t still watching my father like a shark watches a wounded seal.
For his part, Dad only sent me a quelling look, probably for the ‘getting laid’ comment. Yup—Edward was almost certainly onto something with his idea of putting several states and a couple of time zones between the two of us.
Was ‘getting some air’ still a valid excuse for walking out on people when you didn’t need to breathe? I decided after a moment’s debate that it was.
“I’m getting some air,” I announced, and stalked off toward the patio door leading to the backyard.
“I suppose I’ll just be retiring, then,” Edward said, evidently deciding that playing referee during a vampire versus human dick-measuring contest wasn’t within the scope of his bodyguard duties.
Smart guy.
The glass door slid open and shut as I left, jumping a little on its tracks as it did. I stood on the small concrete patio outside and looked up at the sky. The air was crisp with the promise of autumn. It would be dawn soon—maybe that explained my sudden lack of energy. I was getting better... but I was still a baby vamp, and baby vamps basically epitomized the concept of ‘not a morning person.’
For a moment, the past and the present blurred together. Only a few short months ago, I’d stood on the other side of this very door, slack-jawed and frozen in place, as the guy I’d found lying in my garden shed with a shotgun blast through the chest broke the lock and forced his way in to drink my blood. I shook my head sharply, and the vision dissipated.
Now, I was a vampire, too. A vampire... with all of the enhanced senses that came along with the title. I groaned softly as I realized that A) hearing was one of those enhanced senses, and B) my house had been built in the nineteen-forties, and wasn’t big on what you’d call insulation. Or, y’know, soundproofing.
Voices filtered out from inside, low and angry.
“... you claim to be protecting her, but you let her get killed, and now you’ve turned her into some kind of... some kind of a monster...”
I could make out Rans’ accent in the next few words, but not the sense of the words themselves.
“I’m her father!” That part was clear enough.
“Then maybe it’s time you started acting like it, you self-absorbed arsehole. After all, you’ve got twenty years to make up for, and there’s no guarantee any of us will live that long.”
Jesus tap-dancing Christ—somebody please stake me now.
I glanced at the sky again, wondering how long I’d have to fly around the neighborhood as mist before the conversation would be over. Before I could decide to take a chance on the answer, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I frowned and pulled it out, glad that Albigard was out of electronics-frying range. There were an extremely limited number of people who could be calling, and I’d half-hoped it would be Len. Instead, Vonnie’s number lit up the screen. I scrambled to accept the call.
“Von?” I asked breathlessly. “Hey! I didn’t expect to hear from you. How are you?”
There was a faint pause; the sound of an indrawn breath on the other end of the call.
“Zorah... hi,” Vonnie said. “Sorry, I, um—shouldn’t have called so early. I kind of expected it to go to voicemail.”
“No!” I told her. “I was awake. I’m glad you called. What’s up?”
I made out the muted sound of a nervous swallow. “Oh, nothing, really. Everything’s fine.”
I frowned. “Vonnie,” I said, modulating my tone to something softer. “No offense, babe, but you don’t sound fine.” I recalled the details of her earlier email, dredging them up from among the jetsam and flotsam of my own troubles. “You said you owed some people money. Is there anything I can do to help?”
It was probably presumptuous of me, but I suspected if I told Rans about her troubles and asked him to cut her a check, he’d probably do it, no questions asked. Strange, how money—something I’d struggled with for my entire adult life—had become unimportant to me in such a short space of time.
“No, hon,” Vonnie said, still in that odd tone that spoke of someone trying not to lose it over the phone. “I already told you, I’m fine. But...” Another audible swallow. “...what about you, huh? I still don’t know what happened after that day at MMHA.”
It occurred to me that I should
