The Hunter's Affection (Bloodwite Book 3) Page 9

  “I don’t know.” Alessandra picked her tea back up. “But if there is, it’s a good day to be off.”

  “Tell me about it. Speaking of which, don’t you have a class today?”

  “I do, but not until this afternoon. I did have office hours this morning.” She shrugged. “But no one ever comes anyway . . .”

  “Sorry,” Charlotte muttered, wrapping her hands around her coffee mug to warm them. “Too bad we couldn’t do this every morning.”

  “Right? Technically, I suppose I don’t have to work—”

  “Oh my goodness, Kenton’s money.” How could she not have realized? “It’s because—”

  “Yep. He’s over seven hundred years old. They’ve all gotten really good at investing.”

  “Wait a second. Then why is Lawrence opening a bar?”

  Alessandra smiled. “He doesn’t need the money. It’s apparently something he’s always wanted to do.”

  Now that they were back on the subject of Kenton and his family, Alessandra filled in the gaps of the story she’d learned last night. She told her more about the feud between the Derricksons and the Morleys, and described her abilities as a Cheld. And then she truly shocked Charlotte by admitting that Kenton had originally come to Stone Haven with the intention to kill her.

  “He . . . what?”

  Alessandra at least looked sheepish about that. “Luckily, he changed his mind.”

  “So he doesn’t speak to either of his brothers—”

  “Nope.” Alessandra took her mug to the sink, dumped its contents, and made herself another tea. She hated “the bottom” of anything. Tea. Beer. Whatever.

  “But so far, they haven’t tried to succeed where Kenton failed—”

  “Seriously? They would try to kill you?”

  Alessandra bit the side of her lip, her pause enough of an answer for Charlotte.

  “Drake, probably not. But Rowan—”

  “Then . . . are you in danger?”

  Her friend’s lips curled into a smile that was more vicious than it was inviting. This was the new Alessandra. The one Charlotte had seen emerge over the course of the summer. This was the smile of a woman who had no fear, one who didn’t care what people thought of her. A woman very unlike Charlotte.

  “No. I can sense vampires. Plus, Kenton and the Derricksons wouldn’t allow anything to happen to me.”

  It was all too much.

  “I . . .”

  “Enough of that. Let’s talk about something a little more . . . intense.”

  Charlotte groaned. “I thought maybe vampires and my family’s demise would be enough to make you forget about it.”

  Alessandra made a most unladylike sound. “Forget about the fact that you were seen in a passionate embrace with Stone Haven’s most notorious playboy?”

  “And a vampire, apparently.”

  “And that. But make no mistake, that isn’t the most dangerous thing about Torr Derrickson.”

  She found that hard to believe. “It’s not?”

  Alessandra shook her head. “No, not to you. He would never hurt you . . . like that.” She pointed at her chest. “But your heart? Charlotte, I don’t know him well, but I know of him. And I can tell you one thing for sure. Getting involved with him will lead to one thing.”

  Desire. Passion. Sheer and utter ecstasy? Nothing like any of her past boyfriends. She’d never allowed herself to be so out of control, so quickly before. Typically, her preference was for men who liked her more than she liked them. Easy. No worry of being hurt.

  “Heartbreak. Plain and simple. He cares about one person. Himself. Maybe his siblings too,” she conceded, “but even Lawrence admits that his brother has had centuries to ‘grow up’ and has yet to accomplish the feat.”

  Instinctively, she knew Alessandra’s words were true. She’d sensed as much, hadn’t she? Being with a man like Torr would tarnish the reputation she’d been building here, and it was a fool’s errand.

  Last night had been a colossal mistake. One she would not repeat.

  She almost believed herself.

  Chapter 12

  “When you’re done staring at yourself in the window, I could use some help.”

  Torr turned to his brother’s girlfriend, who was holding swatches of fabrics in her hand.

  “Lawrence is still in his meeting with the Liquor Control Board,” she said by way of explanation.

  He turned back to the window, but the old woman he’d been watching had disappeared. Zach wasn’t the only one who was no longer in hiding, it appeared—his grandmother was walking the streets of downtown Stone Haven. He made a split-second decision.

  “I have to go.”

  “But wait, the decorator—”

  “Bring the swatches with you, but hurry.”

  Giving him a curious look, Toni nevertheless followed him out of the bar.

  “And for the record,” he said as they stepped out onto the sidewalk, “I wasn’t staring at myself.”

  “You were.”

  “No, I wasn’t.” A flash of purple more than a block ahead of them caught his attention. “At least,” he said, winking at Toni, “not this time.”

  “That doesn’t explain where we—”

  “Zach’s grandmother,” he said, nodding to the white-haired woman walking in front of a family of four. Tourists were not as common during the week in Stone Haven, but this family was barely keeping up with the elderly woman. They looked up at the colorful Victorian homes and businesses, left and right to the small mom-and-pop shops . . . pretty much everywhere but in front of them.

  “Oh wow, I heard she almost never leaves her house—”

  “Exactly. Which is why we’re following—”

  “Is she going into our shop?”

  Indeed, it looked as if her destination was Ye Old Curiosities.

  “This should be interesting.”

  Fabric swatches still clutched in her hand, Toni rushed ahead of him. Torr followed her, stepping on fallen, brightly colored leaves as they made their way to the shop. All the while, he tuned in to the conversations in the shop, which became crisper as they stepped inside. Toni’s aunt was talking to a young customer, but she soon saw the newcomer and let out an exclamation of surprise.

  “Annabel!”

  Toni headed for the back of the store, but Torr held out his hand. Placing his finger to his lips, he moved them into a crowded aisle out of sight from the register. With so many knickknacks practically falling off the shelves, it was an easy shop to get lost inside. Standing next to a display of handmade keychains, they waited.

  “I can hear them,” he whispered.

  “But why not just go—”

  “I want to hear what she has to say.”

  Toni seemed to understand their presence might change the conversation.

  The cash register clicked. The customer thanked Birdie and then left the store. That meant Annabel was the only remaining customer.

  “I’m surprised to see you here,” Birdie said.

  Torr had met Toni’s aunt twice. He liked her. Although her hair was a muted shade of Toni’s bright red, she was a brasher version of the woman standing beside him. Delightful, but not to be trifled with. And judging from the edge to her voice, he could tell Birdie was anything but pleased to see her former friend.

  “It’s been much too long,” her former friend replied.

  “Indeed.”

  “I know I said it before, but what my grandson did . . . I am so very sorry. He was raised better than that.”

  Toni poked him as he listened. “What are they saying?” she whispered.

  Torr shook his head.

  “You’re not responsible for your grandson’s actions.”

  She delivered the words in a tone that said the exact opposite. Birdie knew, as they all did, that Annabel was the one who’d put Zach up to the deed in the first place. At least the would-be thief had apparently kept his chat with Torr from his grandmother. Torr was actually surprised. Eve
n as a human he’d not have kept information from his family for any reason, and certainly not because he’d been threatened to do so.

  But Zach was different, of course. He was weak. A follower. The exact kind of person who would break into another’s place of business without a clue as to what he was searching for, let alone why the item was so important.

  “She’s apologizing for Zach,” he whispered.

  Toni strained her neck as if to hear, although she’d never be able to do so. They were clear across the shop.

  “I am surprised to see you out and about,” Birdie said, echoing his sentiments.

  He was so attuned to the conversation, Torr could actually hear Annabel’s rapid, uneven breathing.

  She was nervous.

  “I’ve wanted to talk to you . . .”

  “About?”

  “Earlier this summer, you asked about the Cheld. Do you remember? Something to do with your niece’s friend Alessandra?”

  Toni must have picked up on Torr’s expression. “What? What’s she saying?”

  “I remember,” Birdie said. “She found what she was looking for.”

  “Did she?” Annabel seemed surprised.

  “Yes.”

  According to Toni, Birdie and Annabel weren’t friends, not exactly, but their interest in all things supernatural had ensured their paths had crossed multiple times throughout the years. Any friendliness appeared to be gone—there was a chill in the air now between the two women.

  “Annabel, what are you really—”

  “Did she tell you what she learned?” the old woman pressed.

  She knew.

  Annabel Walsh knew of the Cheld. Which likely meant she knew of Torr’s kind as well.

  “Annabel.” Birdie was getting angry now. And so was her niece. Toni tossed her hands up in the air as if to ask, again, what he’d heard, but she would have to wait. “You come into my shop asking questions, after your grandson—”

  “My grandson was wrong,” Annabel repeated.

  Birdie, don’t do it. Don’t show your hand. Torr could tell it was on the tip of Birdie’s tongue to call this woman’s bluff, but that wouldn’t help their cause. With Annabel in the dark about their knowledge of the journal, they still had an advantage—one they could easily lose.

  Birdie cleared her throat as Torr held his breath. Should he intervene?

  “No, you do not. But this is the first visit you’ve paid to Curiosities in over a year. How curious that you should make it an interrogation.”

  Well done, Birdie. Torr smiled at Toni, who frowned in response. Then poked him.

  “I’m sorry if it felt that way.”

  She wasn’t at all sorry.

  “I just find it curious, the talk of an ancient word I hadn’t heard in years accompanied by the purchase of the Hutton mansions by two outsiders to Stone Haven—”

  “Fuck,” Torr muttered aloud.

  “Your niece is dating one of those men, isn’t she?”

  Annabel did not even attempt to mask her rabid curiosity, but Birdie was having none of it.

  “I am done answering your questions,” she said in no uncertain terms. Silence followed her statement, stippled only by the sound of two rapid heartbeats plus Toni’s.

  “I don’t believe you actually answered any of them,” Annabel said finally. “But again, I’m sorry for Zach’s behavior.”

  They were well hidden, but Torr moved Toni back just a bit more as Annabel walked past them. The tingling of the bell signaled her departure, at which point Toni didn’t waste any time.

  “What was all that—”

  But he was already walking around the crowded shelves toward the register.

  “Where in the devil did you come from?” Birdie asked as he emerged from behind a display of replica swords.

  “We followed her in here,” Torr said. “For a moment I thought you’d call her out on lying.”

  “But? How did you—”

  Toni pointed to her ear and Birdie caught on. “Oh, right.”

  “Unfortunately,” Toni said, “I don’t have vampire hearing, so I have no idea what the hell—sorry, Birdie—heck is going on.”

  Torr quickly filled her in on the conversation, Birdie adding the occasional footnote. Then, addressing both of them, he said, “She knows.”

  Birdie nodded emphatically. “Yes, I would say she is most definitely hiding something.”

  “If only we could find that journal she sent Zach to find.” Toni looked around the shop as if it might suddenly jump out at them from one of the myriad of odds and ends. They’d looked and looked, to no avail.

  It was his understanding Birdie and Jim bought some of their stock—the kitschy antiques—from estate sales, and they’d taken home boxes of knickknacks from the Walsh family sale. Not Annabel Walsh, but the sister with whom she’d had a falling-out. The woman had left her considerable wealth and estate to the town, not her family. Torr practically rolled his eyes at the thought of what a scandal that must have been.

  But Birdie and Jim had gone through what remained of the Walsh things—three times, to be exact—and the closest they’d found to a journal was a small notebook chronicling her irritable bowel syndrome. Not something a person would feel the need to break into the shop to snatch.

  If they had the journal, it was lost.

  Something else struck Torr as odd. “My brother and Kenton have been here for four months. It’s been that long since you asked Annabel about the Cheld. Why would she come here now?”

  “More importantly, does she know you exist?” Toni stared straight at him. You meaning vampires, he imagined.

  “I think we should assume she suspects, if she truly does have knowledge of the Cheld,” he said, picking up the fabric swatches. “So the next question is, what does she plan to do with that knowledge?”

  Toni and Birdie exchanged glances but didn’t speak.

  He flipped through the fabrics and picked a deep hunter green. “I assume this is for the drapes?”

  Toni peered down at his choice.

  “Yes.”

  “I like this one. And it’s also Lawrence’s favorite color.”

  Unfortunately, if Annabel Walsh did know of the existence of vampires, his brother and Toni’s bar would be doomed before it even opened. One word to the wrong person, and they would all be forced to leave Stone Haven for good. Surprisingly, he wasn’t quite ready to leave.

  Chapter 13

  “I don’t understand why he needs to be involved.”

  Torr had told Lawrence about their encounter with Annabel Walsh. His reaction? To call Kenton for a “meeting.” The workers had all left for the day, and they sat at the bar waiting for him.

  “Really?” Lawrence poured him a drink, pausing to playfully swat Toni’s butt as she circled around to the customers’ side of the bar. The two hardly kept their hands from each other, which Torr found amusing. His brother had never been one for public displays of affection. But he’d also never seen him this much in love before. Which did make him wonder where exactly this was heading.

  Did Lawrence plan to change Toni so they could be together long term?

  He’d have to ask him about that.

  He knew from his last visit that Kenton had, so far, refused to turn Alessandra. He had to give the asshole credit there. No one knew exactly what would happen, since, to their knowledge, no Cheld had ever been turned. Laria had been asking other vampires and Cheld about it on their travels, for she was apparently as bespelled with her new friends as Lawrence appeared to be.

  “Here you go.” Lawrence slid the whiskey across the bar to him. “What’ll you have?” he asked Toni, who’d pulled up a stool next to Torr.

  “Water,” she said. “Unlike some people, alcohol still affects me, and I can’t drink seven days a week.”

  Lawrence reached for a bottle of red wine. “Tonight”—he uncorked the bottle—“you’ll need something a bit stronger than water.”

  Accepting the glass
he poured, she shook her head. “We’re gonna need some ground rules for working together.”

  Lawrence leaned against the bar as if he had not a care in the world.

  “Such as?”

  She lifted her glass. “This. And you swatting my ass in front of customers.”

  “But you like it,” he said, looking down as if contemplating how he could give her another swat even though she was sitting. “Besides, my brother isn’t a customer.”

  Toni looked pointedly at Torr.

  “Sorry. I’m all for ass-swatting. No support here.”

  “Did I hear someone say ass-swatting?”

  He’d heard the door open behind them and assumed the cavalry had arrived. Alessandra’s voice carried through the room, which had little furniture yet other than barstools.

  “Isn’t that what you’re here to talk about?” Toni quipped.

  Torr couldn’t bring himself to look at Kenton, but he did greet Alessandra, who sat on the empty stool beside him. Despite himself, he was grudgingly impressed with her handling of Charlotte the night before.

  Charlotte.

  He’d put her out of his mind all day. Or tried to, at least.

  Quite unsuccessfully.

  His brother poured Alessandra a glass of wine and went to work on a gin and tonic for Kenton. A gracious host, always. Even to former enemies.

  “It seems we may have a problem,” Lawrence said.

  Toni looked at him, the most likely candidate to tell the story since he’d heard it all firsthand.

  He turned, reluctantly, toward Alessandra. And him.

  “I saw Annabel Walsh ambling down the street earlier. I know she hasn’t been seen around for some time.”

  “So we followed her,” Toni cut in.

  “We?” Alessandra took a sip of her wine.

  “My partner in crime”—he nodded to Toni—“came with me.”

  “Where were you?” Kenton asked Lawrence, who, to his credit, scowled at the Englishman.

  “I was sitting behind the bar playing solitaire,” he answered. “Way too busy to go off chasing an old woman who very likely knows we exist.”