Dying Forever

Heather McVea

Published by Heather McVea at Smashwords

Copyright 2014 Heather McVea

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or event is entirely coincidental. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

A Note from the Author

Dying Forever is the final book in the Waking Forever series, although my wife is dubious that I can actually let these characters go. Waking Forever was the first novel I finished and ultimately published. It was a labor of love that I was very humbled to find also interested other people. With the success of that original book, I decided to try my hand at a series, and Becoming and Dying were born (a little vampire humor there!), along with the Ela serials.

I thoroughly enjoyed writing stories set in my home town of San Antonio, for as much traveling as I do, I am always thrilled to come home to what I consider one of the best places to live. I felt a personal sense of obligation to each of my characters to provide them with believable and real storylines and dialogue. After spending nearly two years with these folks, I think of them like family.

I hope you have enjoyed reading the series as much as I enjoyed writing it. I am currently working on a standalone novel slated for release in February 2015 that is set in Baltimore and leans more toward the romance side of things, though rest assured, the paranormal will inevitably make an appearance… evidently I can’t help myself.

Fondly,

Heather

“And I am done with my graceless heart. So tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart.”

-Florence + the Machine

Chapter 1

“My ample ass would not fit in that.” Lydia Gomez peered at the short, narrow, wicker sarcophagus that housed the withered body of a South American Chinchorro mummy. “Can you imagine?”

Alison Bailey couldn’t help but smile. Lydia had been one of the first people she met when she joined the University of the Incarnate Word faculty nearly nine years ago. She was a forty-two-year-old divorcee, six years Alison’s senior, 5’2”, and weighed over one hundred and fifty pounds. Alison knew this because Lydia was constantly talking about her age, ex-husband, and the newest diet she was trying. Not necessarily in that order.

Alison had met Lydia at the San Antonio Art Museum over an hour ago. The two women tried to get together outside of work at least once a month. In this case, they had both been interested in a new exhibit at the museum showcasing the mummies of the world.

“Nice alliteration - and that’s a child, Lydia, so cut yourself a break.” Alison leaned down and studied the porous texture of the mummy’s exposed skin and bone.

“Regardless, I can take some comfort in knowing everyone was smaller back then.” Lydia walked slowly toward a large, ornate tapestry made of coarse, thickly woven yarn.

Alison shook her head and fell in behind Lydia. “Not true. In some regions less than an inch separates us from our ancestors, and in Colonial America, both Jefferson and Washington were over six feet tall.” She examined the faded yellows and blues of the tapestry as she spoke. “The average American male today is only five nine.”

“Well, that makes me feel better. Not.” Lydia tisked. “Why do you know these things?”

“I’m a professor of American folklore.” Alison frowned. “How awkward would it be if I didn’t know these things?”

Lydia shrugged. “I’m hungry. This paleo diet is for the birds. Are you ready for dinner?” She looked at her watch. “It’s nearly six.”

Alison had eaten a late lunch after her swim, and wasn’t feeling like dinner yet. She knew better, though, than to let Lydia’s blood sugar drop. Lydia was usually a pleasant and concerned person, but let her go too long between meals, and Lydia would morph into an anger ball.

“Hmm, I think I’ll pass.”

Lydia’s eyes narrowed. “You do eat, right? I mean who loses weight over the summer?”

Alison had never thought of herself as particularly thin. She had taken care of herself over the years, and was blessed with good skin that complemented her sandy blonde hair. “It’s the hair cut.”

Lydia smirked. “Doubtful - but speaking of, how long does it take you to get it to look messy like that?”

Alison ran her fingers through her short locks. “You don’t like it?”

“Oh, I like it, but if I cut my hair that short, I’d look like a bowling pin.” Lydia mused.

Alison chuckled. “Enjoy your dinner, friend.”

“Are you okay on your own?” Lydia began riffling around in her oversized navy blue L.L. Bean canvas bag that doubled as a purse and briefcase.

“I can manage.” Alison leaned in for a quick hug. “See you next week?”

Lydia sighed. “Yes. Alas, summer break, and the all too brief reprieve it offers, is drawing to a close.”

Alison squeezed her friend’s shoulder reassuringly. “At least you didn’t get coerced into a summer session like yours truly.”

Lydia shuddered. “Oh, I know. What a sucker you were.” Lydia was a professor of Latin American Studies and had been tenured for nearly ten years. As a result, she rarely, if ever, volunteered for assignments outside her normal class and office hours.

“Thanks, Lydia. See you Monday.” Alison playfully pinched her friend’s arm, spun on her heels, and walked toward the European mummy exhibit hall.

She knew she was too much of a pushover with her department head. Having only received tenure a year ago, Alison was still in the mindset that she had to impress people, and more than that, didn’t want to fall into the state of apathy that seemed to be so prevalent with her peers, especially Lydia.

The coolness of the exhibit hall masked the fact the South Texas summer was in full swing, and the temperature outside was over the century mark. Alison was wearing her favorite trying-not-to-bake-to-death outfit. Her tan, khaki shorts and thin olive, v-neck t-shirt from the Gap were minimizing the sweats. Her leather sole Lands’ End flip flops made a faint popping sound that echoed back and forth between the brick walls and the white oak hard wood floor of the hall.

Alison felt a little conspicuous as she entered the room and walked toward a display of mummies. There was only one other patron in the hall, an auburn haired woman who was examining a sarcophagus along the far wall.

The white laminated information card next to the display indicated the mummies in the Plexiglas case were naturally mummified remains. The bodies had an almost wax like appearance and their features still remained intact, in spite of being over fifteen hundred years old.

“They’re bog bodies.” A woman’s voice broke the silence of the room.

Startled, Alison’s eyes shot up and found the other patron staring at her from the opposite side of the display case. Her eyes were the most vivid green Alison had ever seen. “Sorry?”

“They’re called that because they either fell or were placed in peat bogs. The acidic water and low temperatures of the bog preserved them.” A nervous smile skipped across the woman’s full lips.

Alison cleared her throat. She forced her eyes from the woman’s face, back to the display. “Really? Why would someone be placed in what amounts to an acid bath?”

The woman pointed at the head of the mummy with a long tapered finger. “See the gash on the right temple?”

Alison leaned over the display case, her and the woman’s head nearly touching as they both peered at the corpse. The woman’s scent of citrus and vanilla wafted over her. “Oh, god, look at that.”

“People ended up in the bogs because they were murdered, or sometimes, part of a ritual sacrifice. I would wager this one is the former, given the size of the gash.” Alison and the woman both straightened up at the same time, and it was then that Alison realized how beautiful the stranger was.

She was an inch shorter than Alison, who in her bare feet was 5’6”. The woman’s long, wavy hair was dark auburn, with streaks of lighter blond and red throughout. Her skin was pale and flawless, and her eyes a bright green, framed by long, thick lashes.

Reaching across the display case, Alison extended her hand. “I’m Alison.”

The woman cocked her head slightly to the right and considered Alison’s hand for a second before taking it in her own. “Bryce.”

Alison looked down at the stranger’s hand. The skin was incredibly smooth and cool. “Bryce? Like the actress?”

Bryce’s brow furrowed. “Who?”

“Bryce Dallas. Ron Howard’s daughter.” Alison reluctantly removed her hand from Bryce’s.

“Sorry. I don’t watch a lot of television or movies.” The woman took a step back and pushed her hands into the pockets of her jeans.

“I’m detecting a slight accent. Are you not from the States?” Alison wasn’t sure why, but she felt the need to know the woman better.

Shaking her head, Bryce looked down at her feet. “I’m originally from Ireland. Galway County.”

“Big fan of your whiskey.” Alison’s attempt at a joke fell flat as the woman looked at her blankly. “Not that I imbibe often, but when I do I enjoy -” Taking a deep breath, Alison exhaled through pursed lips. “Forget it. I’m sure you get the booze jokes all the time, given the Irish penchant for drinking.” As soon as the words flew out of her mouth, Alison wanted to crawl under the floorboards. She slammed her eyes shut, and her face flamed with embarrassment.

“Not that you’re a drunk, and that’s a terrible stereotype by the way.” Waving her hands in the air, Alison took a step back. “I’m sorry. It was nice meeting you. Thanks for the information.” She turned to walk away, relieved she had been able to extract her foot from her mouth long enough to exit.

“When I do drink, I like Bushmill whiskey.” Bryce’s voice was tentative.

Alison stopped and turned around, the flip flop sound of her shoes accompanying her as she walked back toward Bryce. “I’m more of a Jameson girl myself, but I won’t hold it against you.”

Bryce smiled, and Alison stifled a gasp. The woman managed to be even more stunning when her perfectly straight and white smile lit up her face. “Would you like to have a drink with me?”

Alison’s heart sped up, but she managed to sound calm as she spoke. “That would be nice.” She glanced at her wrist watch. “It’s a little after six, so happy hours in this part of town abound.”

Looking confused, Bryce hesitantly nodded. “Sure. Do you know of anywhere good around here?”

“I do. It’s just up the street actually.” She pulled her phone out of the front pocket of her shorts. “What’s your number? I’ll text you the information, then we can meet there.” Though she had taken an immediate liking to Bryce, she wasn’t foolish enough to get in a car with a complete stranger.

“I don’t have a phone.” Bryce said it so casually, Alison thought she had misheard.

“How’s that possible?” Alison’s tone was sterner than she had intended. “I mean - wow. That’s - that’s something.”

Bryce chewed nervously on the inside of her lip. “I’ve been meaning to get one, but haven’t made the time.”

“I’d be lost without mine.” Alison slid her phone back in her pocket. “Why don’t we pop up to the front desk and snag a piece of paper.” She smiled. “We can do it old school, and I’ll draw you a map.”

Bryce grinned. “Sounds good.”

The two women walked back through the various exhibit rooms toward the front of the museum. The thin Hispanic woman at the front desk was on the phone, so Alison grabbed a comment card and a pen from a nearby table and quickly jotted down the information.

“Esquire Tavern. It’s downtown on Commerce Street, but since we’re already this far down Broadway, we can get there in about ten minutes.” Alison handed the slip of paper to Bryce. “I’m guessing you don’t have GPS.” Looking at the paper, Bryce shook her head. “No worries. I’m parked right out front. You can follow me down.”

“Thank you.” Bryce slid the paper into her back pocket.

Alison felt like skipping, but managed to contain her enthusiasm as she walked toward the parking lot. It had been nearly three months since she had been on a date. Her older sister Julia had set her up with an office mate from her firm, and it had been an unmitigated disaster. Halfway through their dinner, the woman had mentioned she was still married, to a man, and wasn’t sure if “the whole lesbian thing” was her scene. Alison had politely exited the dinner and called her sister to give her an earful as she walked back to her car.

“Odd. She’s never mentioned a husband, and when I said I had a sister she might be interested in dating, she was very eager.” Julia had immediately gone defensive. “Shit, I have to see her tomorrow at work. You weren’t rude, were you, Ali?”

Alison’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head with exasperation. “Really, Jules? Really, truly - you’re worried about how I handled finding out I was someone’s curiosity when you should be kissing my ass?”

There had been a long pause. “You know I’m sorry. Now can we discuss the fallout on my end?”

Not for the first time, or most likely the last, Alison had hung up on her sister. Julia Abigail Bailey was a Chief Financial Officer for a local financial services company and sometimes forgot her sister wasn’t an employee.

That experience, along with her summer class schedule, had curtailed Alison’s interest in dating. Now, unlocking her blue 2011 Honda Accord coupe, she half-expected to turn around and find Bryce had ducked out on her. Instead, the beautiful woman nearly walked into the back of Alison as she stopped next to her car.

“Sorry.” Bryce took a step back and pulled a set of keys from her jeans pocket.

“It’s fine. I’m here.” Alison nodded toward her car.

Bryce looked toward the far corner of the parking lot. “I’m over a ways, but go ahead. I have a general idea where I’m going.”

Alison smiled. “It’s pretty straight forward. Just head down Broadway toward downtown. It turns into Losoya Street, then you can take a right on Commerce.” She opened the car door, and a wave of heat escaped from the interior. “See you there.”

Alison left the door open while she started the car. Looking over, she watched as Bryce walked toward a white, Toyota Corolla. How is she wearing all those clothes? Alison thought as she registered for the first time that the woman was wearing a long sleeve gray t-shirt, jeans, and a pair of brown leather Skechers.

Fairly confident she wouldn’t suffocate, Alison turned the air conditioner up, closed the car door, and pulled out onto the main street. Glancing in her rear view mirror, she saw the white Toyota pull out of the parking lot and begin following her.

Halfway down Broadway, Alison timed a light cycle badly and left Bryce sitting while she drove on. Slowing down as much as she could without causing a traffic jam, Alison attempted to wait for the woman, but after several irritated honks from fellow motorist, she had no choice but to drive on.

Alison parked at a meter across from the Esquire, then looked up and down Commerce Street, hoping to spot Bryce. Deciding it was best, or at least less hot, to wait for her inside, Alison crossed the street and entered the dark, cool bar.

Built in 1933 in celebration of Prohibition being repealed, the Esquire Tavern sat along the back edge of the San Antonio Riverwalk. The walnut floors were faded and scratched, accenting the scarred wooden booths and deep red, leather seat covers. The worn wooden bar ran nearly the length of the tavern and was backed by numerous shelves lined with every imaginable liquor bottle.

Alison took a seat at the bar, hanging her purse on a brass hook under the bar top. “What can I get you?” The young African-American man who spoke was dressed in a stark white button-up shirt, black bow tie, and a pair of dark jeans.

“Jameson neat, please.” Alison leaned back in the high back leather bar stool and looked toward the entrance of the bar. Glancing at her watch, she frowned. I hope she isn’t lost.

The bartender placed an old fashioned style glass half full with Jameson in front of Alison. “Would you like to start a tab, miss?”

Alison reached into her purse, pulled out her brown leather J. Crew wallet, and handed her Visa to the man. “Yes, please.” She was hopeful Bryce and she would linger long enough to warrant a tab.

Thirty minutes and two drinks later, Alison closed out her tab. Bryce was nowhere to be found, and Alison’s dignity dictated she leave, though part of her remained hopeful it was a misunderstanding or the woman simply got lost.

Stepping out into the heat of the city, Alison looked back and forth along the bricked sidewalk and sighed heavily when there was no sign of Bryce. “Classic.” She muttered to herself as she crossed the street. Digging in her purse for her keys, she failed to see a car turning right onto Commerce Street and nearly had a heart attack as the irate driver honked repeatedly.

Approaching her car, Alison saw a white slip of paper secured under her driver side windshield wiper. Alison thought for a minute it was a note from Bryce saying she was sorry, but something had come up last minute.

Turning the slip of paper over, her evening immediately went from bad to worse. “Shit.” In her zeal to get into the bar and meet Bryce, Alison had forgotten to put money in the meter and now had a twenty-five dollar ticket to add insult to injury.

Driving back uptown toward her house near the San Antonio Medical Center, Alison resolved to not meet and greet any more strange and beautiful women in mummy exhibits, as clearly nothing good could come of it. She also was committed to never tell another soul about the humiliating endeavor. Her ego could only take so much.

Chapter 2

Alison’s two-inch black heels clicked smartly as she trotted up the concrete stairs towards her first lecture of the semester.  She was dressed conservatively in a black pencil skirt hitting just below the knee and a burgundy, short sleeve button-up shirt from Banana Republic.

University of the Incarnate Word was founded in 1881 by the Sisters of Charity of the Incarnate. Grounded in Judeo-Christian tradition, the university was originally a women’s college and didn’t begin admitting men until 1970. Though Alison was an atheist, she didn’t mind the slightly religious slant the school still took with regards to overall academics and when considering new students for admission.

The university was relatively small, with less than ten thousand students in attendance. Its size, along with the pseudo-Baroque style architecture, was more reminiscent of an east coast university than one located in South Texas.

The relatively low student to professor ratio also provided Alison the opportunity to form more meaningful and long term relationships with her students. She was a mentor to three undergraduates and knew many of her students by name, something the larger universities in the state didn’t allow for.

The door to the lecture hall was open, and Alison glanced at her watch to see she had less than three minutes before her Founding Myths - The Birth of a Nation class started. The class was an introduction to American folklore, and though she hadn’t had a chance to review the complete participants’ list, she knew the class was full.

A low hum of voices emanated from the room as Alison walked through the door. Students walked back and forth, greeting each other, and finding their seats. Putting her worn leather mailbag down next to the wooden podium, Alison did a quick scan of the room to see nearly all fifty desks were full.

“Good morning. I’m Professor Bailey. If you would find a seat, we can begin shortly.” Turning toward the white, dry erase board that ran the entire length of the room’s back wall, Alison picked up a black marker and wrote in large, block letters Founding Myths - The Birth of a Nation, and then her name, office hours, and email address.

Putting the marker down on the thin metal tray that jutted out from the base of the white board, Alison turned to face the class. “This is the class you are in.” She pointed over her shoulder toward the board. “Founding Myths, The Birth Of A Nation. If this is not the class you registered for, please exit via the door at the back of the room; otherwise - welcome.” She smiled warmly in an effort to reassure the mostly freshman attendees.

A three second pause, and two men getting up to leave later, and Alison pulled the university-issued iPad from her bag. Over the past two years, the devices had become standard issue to both faculty and students. “Please bring up the syllabus for this class.” Several taps and screen swipes later, Alison laid the tablet on the narrow lecture podium, attached the overhead projector cable, and began to pace back and forth as she spoke.

“You should have the text book Folklore and the Founding of America. In addition, you should have the supplemental workbook.” She saw a young, blonde woman seated in the front row turn a bright red and begin to sort through her purple JanSport backpack nervously.

“If you do not have one or both of these texts, do not fear.” Alison made eye contact with the young woman and smiled. “You can purchase or download them from the university bookstore prior to our next meeting.” The girl’s shoulders relaxed, and she put the backpack down on the floor next to her.

Alison went on to explain her expectations around attendance, assignments, and the testing format and schedule for the semester. “With the housekeeping out of the way, let’s get started.” She walked to the white board and, taking the black marker in hand, wrote folklore in large block letters. “What does this mean?”

Turning to face the class, she was encouraged when several hands went up. Choosing a young man near the center of the room at random, Alison pointed to him. “Yes?”

“Should I stand?” The boy was no older than seventeen, his face was flushed with a rather severe case of acne, and his voice cracked with nervousness as he spoke.

“Yes, please, so everyone can hear.” Alison encouraged.

The boy stood and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his faded jeans. “Folklore - traditional customs, beliefs, stories, sayings, or ideas that are not true, but that many people have heard or read.” The young man sat back down in his chair quickly.

Alison tried not to be too obvious with her smirk. It never failed - every term at least one student channeled the Tracy Flick character from Tom Perrotta’s book Election. “Thank you for that clinical explanation of folklore, Mr. -”

“Foster - Brian Foster, ma’am.” The boy answered.

“Mr. Foster, thank you.” Alison never discouraged participation, especially on the first day, but she was hoping for a more esoteric definition.

“Anyone else?” She scanned the room and saw a long, thin arm jutting up from the back row. “In the back, sorry I can’t see your face.”

A moment later, Bryce stood up, and Alison felt a wave of prickling heat shoot up her neck and across her forehead. Putting her hand on the podium to her right, she took a deep breath, hoping desperately that her discomfort wasn’t obvious to the entire class. “Yes, Ms. - Ms.?”

“Whelan. Bryce Whelan.”

Alison was relieved she didn’t follow her name with ma’am. She felt humiliated enough about what had happened without being called ma’am by a woman she had hit on a few days ago. “Ms. Whelan – how would you define the word folklore?” She forced herself to make eye contact with the woman.

“I just wanted to add to Mr. Foster’s definition by saying folklore can be legends, music, oral history, proverbs, even fairy tales. It’s a way of sharing beliefs and fears and hopes across generations.” Bryce sat back down, her face now obscured behind three rows of her classmates.

Alison swallowed, her mouth dry. Of course Bryce would say something perfect. Of course the woman who had left her sitting alone in a bar would absolutely get it. “Thank you, Ms. Whelan. That was an effective elaboration.” Effective elaboration? Jesus, Ali, you’re brilliant. “Anyone care to add to Mr. Foster's or Ms. Whelan’s comments?”

Seeing no other hands raised, Alison finally launched into her lecture, hoping the beads of sweat weren’t too obvious.

Chapter 3

Alison wanted to bolt from the classroom immediately upon completion of the lecture. Unfortunately, several students approached her about the initial assignment to create their own tall tale relevant to the founding of America. Looking over the shoulder of the young Asian girl who wanted to know if she could include Asian Americans in her story, Alison saw Bryce waiting patiently near the door.

“There’s really no limits to what you can include. Use your imagination.” Alison repeated this mantra for the second time. This particular student clearly struggled with ambiguity.

“I understand, but if I include an element that isn’t accurate to the period, will you count off?” The girl persisted.

Usually Alison would give the freshman her standard spiel about how, being in college, they were expected to set their own path and extrapolate from one experience to another in order to reach a conclusion. Instead she opted for the quick response. “No.”

Tossing her iPad into her bag, Alison took a deep breath and followed a stream of students toward the door. Bryce fell into step beside her as they exited to the hall. “Alis - Professor Bailey, can I trouble you for a minute, please?”

Alison sighed heavily. “Quickly, Ms. Whelan. I have a department meeting in fifteen minutes, and it’s across campus.”

“I’ll walk with you.” Bryce was either ignoring or was oblivious to Alison’s irritation.

“Suit yourself.” The toxic mix of anger, hurt, and embarrassment was boiling up in Alison, and she wasn’t sure she would be able to maintain her composure much longer.

“I know what happened last week was rude and I -” Before Bryce could finish, Alison stopped abruptly, looked around the crowded hallway, and walked toward an empty class room.

“Come on.” Alison waved a confused Bryce over and shut the door behind her. “First, Ms. Whelan, rude doesn’t begin to describe what you did to me. Second, given our current situation, it would appear for the best that we didn’t - well - date.” Alison clenched her jaw. “And speaking of that - what the hell are you doing in my class?”

Bryce frowned and looked down at the beige linoleum floor. “I -”

“Speak up. I can’t hear you.” The harshness in Alison’s voice surprised her, and the hurt look on Bryce’s face forced her to realize she didn’t want to be this angry person. Alison took a deep breath and tried to physically will the resentment out of her body. “I’m sorry. Please continue.”

Bryce’s green eyes shot up and a look of relief passed over her face. “I got nervous about having drinks with you - thinking I would say something stupid. So instead I was a coward and ran away. Second, I’m auditing the class and had no idea when we met that you were the professor. You just gave me your first name, and I didn’t make the connection.”

Alison looked at Bryce for several seconds. Her anger dissipated, but the hurt continued to grip her chest, leaving her feeling short of breath. “Okay then. So, this is – this is awkward, but let’s soldier on.” Alison was suddenly channeling her father. “I mean, there’s no reason this should interfere with your studies, and in retrospect - like I said - it’s for the best that we didn’t - didn’t -”

“Date.” Bryce timidly interjected.

“Exactly.” Alison reached for the door knob. As she opened the door, the noise from the busy hall rushed in. “So, I’ll see you in class Thursday?”

Bryce smiled. “Yes, and thank you.”

Alison managed a nod and left both the room and Bryce behind. She stopped in the hall and looked back as Bryce exited the room and walked the opposite direction. Alison’s heart was still racing as she tried to exhale the intoxicating scent of oranges and vanilla that seemed to radiate off of the beautiful redhead.

“Is she one of your students, Alison?” A woman’s voice startled Alison out of her daydreaming.

“Jesus! Annabel, you scared the crap out of me.” Alison nearly knocked the woman over as she spun around to face her.

Annabel Putnam was a professor of religious studies. Because she and Alison essentially had the same boss, they ran into each other periodically at events for the College of Arts and Sciences.

“Clearly, that was not my intention.” The woman’s cadences when she spoke verged on sing-songy, and she always seemed a little out of breath.

“Of course not, I was just-” Alison took a step back. “I was just wrapping up.”

Brushing a loose strand of her raven colored hair off her forehead, Annabel looked past Alison and down the hall. Her eyes narrowed. “With that woman?”

Alison frowned as she followed the woman’s fixed gaze to Bryce, who stood at the farthest end of the hall talking to an older man Alison didn’t recognize. She had only spoken with her colleague a handful of times, but no matter the topic, it seemed as if the woman verged on offensive when she spoke. To make matters worse, Alison didn’t think the woman even realized it.

“Yes. Quick conference with a student - well, she’s technically auditing the class - so -”

Looking back at the dark haired woman, Alison stopped. The woman’s normally olive tone skin had paled, and she looked as if she might faint. “Annabel, are you okay?”

Annabel’s brown eyes suddenly looked watery.  The distracted woman blinked quickly several times, then took a deep breath and nodded, forcing a wide smile onto her face. “The redhead is your student?”

“Ah, like I said she really isn’t-” Stopping mid-sentence, Alison willed herself not to justify Bryce and hers relationship. It was ridiculous because for one thing, there was no relationship, and clearly Annabel didn’t care anyway, as she was waving her hand dismissively in front of Alison.

“Anyway, are you going to Barry’s meeting?” Annabel asked.

Barry Whitman was the Dean of the College of Arts and Sciences. A stocky man in his early fifties, he insisted - in spite of the many objections of his staff - to hold faculty meetings in the middle of the day. This usually made lunch impossible, but by Barry’s reckoning, early meetings avoided potentially uncomfortable, alcohol laden exchanges if the meetings were held after hours and off campus.

“I am. Would you like to walk together?” Alison wasn’t really in the mood for company, in particular with someone who she didn’t have a great rapport with, but she didn’t want to be rude considering the nature of departmental politics. A peer today could be a department head tomorrow.

Reaching into the front pocket of her black slacks, Annabel retrieved her cell phone, and began quickly typing as she spoke. Without looking at Alison, she walked past her, their shoulders brushing. “You go ahead. I have to grab something from my office.”

Alison shrugged. “Suit yourself.” The woman didn’t so much as look back at Alison as she quickly made her way down the hall. Looking past her rude associate, Alison was relieved to see Bryce was no longer there to witness her uncomfortable exchange with Annabel. She had reached her embarrassment quotient for the year already, and it wasn’t even lunch yet.

***

“An important symbol in American myth, Paul Revere derived his status less from his own achievements and more from the perceptions of the society that elevated him to hero status.” Alison paced back and forth in front of the class as she spoke. Her eyes wandered from student to student, careful not to make eye contact with Bryce. “This phenomenon is particularly interesting with regards to America - who having separated from England and its cultural icons, was left without a history of its own.”

Brian Foster’s hand shot up. This was the third time he had interrupted the lecture with a question that was less about him clarifying a point and more about him demonstrating his knowledge of the topic.

“Yes, Mr. Foster.” Alison managed not to sound annoyed.

“In your book, Beyond Salem - Heresy and Hysterics, you speak to a similar occurrence around the myth of Plymouth Rock and the legacy that instilled in the original settlers of the Colonies.” The skinny, red faced young man exaggerated his hand gestures as he spoke.

“What’s your question, Mr. Foster?” The boy was taking ass kissing and know-it-all-ism to new heights.

The student’s eyes widened, and his usually red face glowed an even brighter crimson as several of his classmates snickered. “I was hoping you could draw the parallel for the class.”

Alison shook her head. “I can and I will, Mr. Foster. In due time.” She turned her attention back to the class at large and inadvertently made eye contact with Bryce, who was sitting at the end of the third row. It was Alison’s turn to blush as the beautiful woman smiled at her. Clearing her throat, Alison managed to finish with her lecture in spite of her voice being drowned out by the loud beating of her anxious heart.

“Great lecture.” Alison looked up as she slid her iPad into her bag. The attractive man standing in front of her looked to be in his late forties, with dark brown hair graying around his temples. He had on a pair of dark blue jeans, a western style button-up shirt with a brown and black plaid pattern, and a pair of dark brown leather cowboy boots that peeked out from under the boot cut jeans.

“Sorry - have we met?” Though nontraditional students - people going to college for the first time after raising a family, or returning for additional degrees later in life - were not uncommon, Alison was certain she had not seen the man in any of her classes.

“My bad.” The stranger extended his hand. “I’m Tom Hutchinson. I’m a freelance writer for Texas Monthly magazine.” The skin of his hand was coarse and warm. The slow, meandering pace of his cadence when he spoke led Alison to think he was from North Texas, or possibly Oklahoma.

Alison shook the man’s hand. “Alison Bailey. Nice to meet you.”

His smile was genuine and warm. “The pleasure is entirely mine, Professor Bailey, but I admit I’ve come to you with ulterior motives.”

Her curiosity piqued, Alison put her bag down and turned her full attention to Tom. “How’s that, Mr. Hutchinson?”

The man shook his head. “Please, call me Tom, and if you’ll have a coffee with me, I can explain.”

Alison looked at her watch. “Sadly, I only have twenty minutes until my next class, and I have to walk across campus to get there.”

Tom frowned. “Too bad. May I walk with you?”

“Sure.” Alison pulled the leather strap of her bag over her shoulder and walked toward the door. Once in the hall, Tom walked alongside of her.

“I’m a big fan, by the way. I’ve read both your books, and I think they’re fascinatin’.” The man practically gushed.

Alison chuckled. “Now I’m suspicious. I can’t imagine what your motives are when you’re softening me up like this.”

“Not at all.” The man’s smile was contagious as they exited the building and wound their way along the congested sidewalk. “A Witch’s World and Beyond Salem are some of the best academic writings I’ve seen on witchcraft and witches in America.”

“Read a lot of that sort of thing?” She still wasn’t sure where this conversation was headed.

“Up until recently, only in my spare time.” His smile faded.

“Until recently?” They stopped at a crosswalk, and Alison turned to face Tom.

“Have you seen or read anything in the past two months about the murders on the south side of town?”

Alison did remember reading something about the murders, and how they were some of the more gruesome killings the city had seen in decades. “A little, but what’s that got to do with me?”

Tom looked around as if he was about to divulge a national security secret. Leaning toward Alison, the man lowered his voice. “What’s been kept out of the news is the way the victims were dispatched. It’s akin to ritual killing.”

Alison’s brow furrowed and her stomach tightened. “That’s horrible.”

Seeing the street was clear, Tom took Alison’s forearm and the two crossed the street. Once on the other side, Tom released Alison’s arm and reached into the front pocket of his jeans to retrieve a pack of Winston cigarettes. “Do you mind?” He held the pack up.

Alison shook her head. “That’s fine.” She wasn’t a fan of cigarette smoke, but since they were outside, and the man seemed nervous, she felt she should oblige him. “Sorry if I’m being a little thick, but what does any of this have to do with me?”

Taking a long drag off the cigarette, Tom waited several seconds before exhaling. “I really should let these go. Terrible habit.” He rolled the cigarette back and forth between his thumb and forefinger. “Got hooked in my late teens when I was working on a cattle ranch in West Texas.”

“West Texas? Given your accent, I thought you were from North Texas. The panhandle maybe.” The fact Tom hadn’t answered her question wasn’t lost on Alison, but they had another block to walk so she could bide her time.

Tom gave her a crooked smile and took another pull from the cigarette. “Good ear. Lubbock. Went to Texas Tech, but worked summers on a ranch near El Paso.”

Alison nodded as they rounded the last corner before reaching Fallor Hall. She had taken a mandatory Sociolinguistics class during her undergraduate work at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. She had initially not seen the point of the course, given her American Studies degree plan, but after a couple weeks she had found the source material fascinating.

In fact, the blending of influences as one culture came into contact with another, including the resulting variation of grammar and lexicons and the impact that had on regional storytelling, had ultimately spurred Alison to narrow her studies to American folklore.

“So, Tom, what does this have to do with me?” The entrance to the hall was within sight, and the cloak and dagger bit was wearing thin.

Tom stopped and turned to face Alison. “I’m writing a series on the killings and would like to utilize you as a source.” He took another pull from the cigarette.

“Are you attempting to tie these killings back to witchcraft?” She immediately resented the implication. Over the years she had dealt with ignorance regarding the practice of witchcraft and found most people’s ideas about the practice came from overly exaggerated accounts in books and movies.

“I can tell by your tone and your expression this isn’t sitting well with you.” Tom stopped and put the half smoked cigarette out on the sole of his western style boot, tossing the butt in a nearby trash can.

“I do object to over sensationalizing what are clearly serious crimes in an attempt to-” Alison stopped. It occurred to her before she got on her soap box, she didn’t actually know what this man’s motivations were, and she reminded herself to be open minded. “I’m sorry, what are you getting at with all this?”

Tom smiled, his teeth whiter than they should have been given the years of smoking. “First, I know that most forms of witchcraft are offshoots of traditional Judeo-Christian based religions, not some Satan-fueled fun fest.” He winked at Alison, and she felt a blush rise to her cheeks. “Second,  based on what I’ve read, I can appreciate your skepticism as to my motives. Witches have been scapegoated for centuries as an easy way of explaining away any number of misfortunes.”

Alison liked Tom. He was clearly intelligent, and though she wasn’t certain she would end up helping him, she was certainly intrigued. “You’ve got my attention, but I have to get to class.” She pulled a pen and a scrap of paper from her bag. “Here’s my email. Message me and we can talk.”

Taking the slip of paper from Alison, Tom grinned from ear to ear. “Can we make it dinner? A date?”

Alison was walking away, but turned her head to answer the exuberant man over her shoulder. “Sorry, Tom. I don’t bat for that team.” She couldn’t help but laugh at the slack jawed expression that replaced his smile.

***

“Are you flossing? And don’t lie to me, Ali, I can tell.” Chad Bailey stood over his older sister with a long, sharp, metal pick in his right hand. Alison’s mouth was open and her eyes narrowed at her brother.

“M bm treeng.” Alison muttered.

“Trying or doing, Ali?” Chad picked at the back of Alison’s bottom teeth. The scraping sound was like nails down a chalkboard, and she struggled not to cringe.

“M bugy.” Alison could feel the spit pooling in her mouth.

“We’re all busy, but if you don’t take care of your teeth now, you’ll pay for it tenfold later.” Chad laid the metal instrument on the elevated stainless steel tray to his right and nodded to his assistant Amber.

The young brown haired woman, dressed in pink scrubs, her face covered with a splash guard, inserted a narrow tube in Alison’s mouth that sounded like a large vacuum. “Close your mouth, Ms. Bailey.” Alison did as she was told and felt the suction pulling at her tongue and cheek.

Relieved to have the excess spit removed, Alison turned her attention to her brother. Chad was over six feet tall, with dark brown hair and a square jaw to accent his angular features. A handsome man, he was oblivious to his good looks and a bit of a nerd. Alison had never known any other twelve year olds who, like Chad, had wanted nothing more than to be a dentist when they grew up.

Amber got up, removed her splash guard, and left the exam room. “How’s Gayle?” Alison took the opportunity to ask after Chad’s wife. The couple had dated for nearly ten years, throughout their undergraduate and graduate studies. They had finally been married a little over three years ago and were trying desperately to have a child. Chad didn’t talk about it often, but from what Alison had gleaned from him and their mother, Gayle had begun taking fertility treatments.

Chad removed his white latex gloves and skillfully tossed them across the exam room and into the trash can. He sat back on the stool he was straddling. “She’s okay. It’s been tough, but she’s determined.”

Alison could see from the pained expression on her brother’s face things were far from okay. But with the exception of herself, the Bailey family had always shared at their own pace, and prying rarely got you anywhere. This never stopped Alison from trying. “Have you considered adoption?”

The tall man stood and began typing notes into a laptop near the back of the exam room. “We’ve talked about it, but Gayle has taken the whole thing as a personal affront.” His voice was heavy, and Alison could see from his slumped shoulders the situation was serious.

“How do you mean, affront?” She knew Gayle was competitive and an overachiever. Alison had once made the mistake of playing golf with Gayle, Jules, and Alison’s then girlfriend Ash shortly after Chad and Gayle started dating. All three of the other women were incredibly competitive, and at one point, things got so heated Alison expected them all to begin fencing with their respective clubs. Luckily, Alison had played poorly enough that none of the other women considered her a threat.

There was a long pause as Chad typed several notes, the click of the keys filling the awkward silence. When he turned around, Chad’s brown eyes glistened with tears. “Shit, Ali, you know Gayle. Now it’s a contest - something she has to beat.” He shook his head as he sat back down on the stool. Before Alison could ask her brother how he was doing, Amber walked back in with a box of cotton swabs.

Clearing his throat, Chad gently patted Alison’s forearm, and the two siblings exchanged reassuring smiles. “I mentioned you were coming in today, and Gayle suggested I invite you to dinner Friday night.” He smiled, and Alison knew him well enough to know he was about to say something he thought was very clever. “Mind you it’s merely a suggestion, and I’m not obligated in any way.”

Playfully punching him in the arm, Alison nearly knocked the tray of dental tools over. She and Amber both grabbed for the wobbling tray simultaneously. “Crap, sorry. Dinner Friday? Sure.”

“Wonderful.” Chad sighed. “So, big sister - good news, bad news. You need a deep plaque cleaning because you’re not flossing as often or as effectively as you should be. Plus you skip appointments and -”

“What’s the good news, Chad?” Alison had heard varied versions of this lecture over the years and knew it by heart.

Chad pursed his lips. “Well, damn, I guess there isn’t any.”

“Bad. You’re a bad brother.” She teased, but the urge to console him from earlier lingered; so she didn’t prod at him as much as she might otherwise.

“I would usually suggest a separate appointment, but since getting you here in the first place is hard enough, and we’ve had a cancellation - let’s -” He removed a fresh latex glove from the box behind him, and dramatically pulled it over his right hand. “- do this thing.”

Amber chuckled and slid her stool back toward a large set of drawers built into the wall. “Give me about five minutes and I’ll have the topical anesthesia ready. Ms. Bailey, since you were here last, Doctor Bailey has added an ultrasound pick to the inventory. That will minimize bleeding and discomfort.”

Alison looked at Chad. “Are you sure you don’t want to use the old rusted crap?”

Chad laughed, his deep baritone voice filling the small exam room. “What she didn’t mention was the ultrasound thing is - very experimental, and may not go well for you.”

“All kidding aside, I have a lecture tonight. Is this going to impede me talking?” Alison covered her mouth just as Amber was coating the cotton swab in the topical anesthesia.

“If it was that easy, don’t you think I would have done this years ago?” Chad raised and lowered his eyebrows in jest.

“Smartass.” Alison laid her head back on the hard leather headrest of the inclined chair. She was happy to have the time with Chad, but the sharp, metal instruments chipping away at her gumline she could live without.

***

In typical fashion, Alison had been coerced into facilitating a night course for Masters candidates. The university was broadening its appeal to working students and providing an array of courses during the evening was one way the board was ensuring the school’s long term viability.

Alison rubbed her cheek as she walked through the nearly empty parking garage. Her gums were still sore from that afternoon’s heavy cleaning, as well as the last hour she had spent lecturing. A woman’s voice echoed through the garage. “Professor Bailey?”

Alison’s hand slid into her front pant pocket and tightened around the pepper spray dispenser secured there. Though the campus wasn’t known for violent crime, Alison felt it never hurt to be prepared. She had bought the spray when she agreed to teach the night classes.

Keeping her finger on the red button at the top of the dispenser, Alison turned toward the voice. The vise like grip she had on the canister lessened when she saw a woman in her early thirties ten feet away. She had cropped black hair and was dressed in a pair of loose fitting khaki pants, a tan scoop neck t-shirt, and a pair of beige leather sandals. “Yes?” Alison forced confidence into her voice, hoping her nervousness wasn’t obvious. The last thing she wanted was to sound like a victim.

The woman smiled broadly. Her mouth was large and slightly disproportional to the rest of her face, causing her to have an almost clown like expression as she walked toward Alison. “Professor Bailey, I’m sorry if I startled you.” The woman extended her hand toward Alison. “I’m sure a stranger’s voice in a nearly deserted garage isn’t exactly reassuring.”

Alison released the pepper spray canister, letting it drop back to the bottom of her pocket as she took the woman’s hand. “You’re fine, but you would have got a dose of pepper spray if it wasn’t for these snail-like reflexes of mine.”

The woman laughed and the throaty sound filled the garage. “Then today is my lucky day.” She stepped closer to Alison, their hands still joined. Placing her other hand over Alison’s, the woman lowered her voice so it sounded intimate and secretive. “I’m Christine. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

The intensity of the woman’s gaze, and the hushed tone she spoke in, made Alison uncomfortable. Slowly extracting her hand from the woman’s, Alison took a step back, but not before noticing the small silver Wiccan Triqueta emblem hanging from a thin silver chain around the woman’s neck. “Finally? Have you been trying for a while?”

Christine smiled, and her face took on a slightly demonic expression. “I have, as a matter of fact. I’ve read both your books and thought your analysis of the early puritanical culture of the Colonies and the patriarchal structure of the church as key elements triggering the witch trials was incredibly insightful.”

“Wow, you actually did read them.” The encounter felt odd, and Alison was too tired to engage in an academic discussion with a complete stranger at ten o’clock at night. “I’m glad you enjoyed the books.” She was amazed how many people as of late had read the books, and how there seemed to be a convergence of fans. “My office hours are nine to eleven, Mondays and Wednesdays, if you would like to swing by and discuss.”

Shaking her head, the woman reached into her pocket. “Oh, I’m not a student, and I wouldn’t think of interrupting your working hours.”

Alison’s eyebrows shot up, and she felt an uneasy feeling stirring in her stomach, as the woman extracted a small, black stone from her pocket. “You’re not a student? Then what brings you to campus?”

Christine flattened her hand out, palm up in front of Alison’s face. The black stone lay perfectly still in the woman’s hand. “I want you to have this.” Even though the stone had a matte finish, there was a brilliance to it, and Alison, though her mind equated this to a child taking candy from a stranger, couldn’t stop herself from reaching for the trinket.

Just as Alison was about to touch the stone, the sound of footsteps drew her attention to the stairwell near the elevator. Suddenly realizing she was holding her breath, Alison exhaled sharply as Bryce emerged from the stairs. “Alison? What are you doing here?”

Alison turned her head toward Christine. “I was just talking -” Her breath caught. The garage was empty. “Oh - that can’t be.” She walked around a large concrete support beam, convinced she would see Christine, but instead, having walked a full circle around the pillar, she came face-to-face with Bryce.

“You look pale. Are you feeling okay?” Bryce put her hand on Alison’s shoulder. “You’re shaking.” The concerned woman took Alison’s bag from her shoulder. “Come on. Where’s your car? You need to sit down.”

Alison didn’t feel well and as she lifted her hand to point at her car several spots over, the disorientated feeling she had swirling in her head was causing her vertigo. “Yeah. Thanks.” She took a step forward and the joints in her legs felt weak. Instinctively, she reached for Bryce and managed to grab the woman’s arm before she collapsed.

Startled by suddenly having Alison’s body pressed against hers, Bryce quickly pivoted and wrapped her arms around Alison’s waist. Their faces were only inches from one another, and Alison was feeling too discombobulated to care that Bryce seemed actively put off by their proximity as she turned her head to the side.

Bryce guided a lethargic Alison to her Honda, and her eyes averted, handed Alison the worn leather mailbag. “Can you get your keys out, please?”

Alison stared absently into space as she reached into the side pocket of the bag and pulled her car keys out. Bryce took the keys and the bag from Alison, and the chirp of the car alarm broke the silence in the garage.

Bryce opened the passenger side door, took Alison’s hand, and guided her into the vehicle. “I’m going to recline the seat a bit.”

A moment later, Alison was looking up at the black ceiling liner of her car. “I’m sorry about this. I was talking to a woman an -”

“What woman?” Bryce frowned as she crouched next to Alison, her arm resting on the open car door.

“Her - she - her name was Christine, and we were talking about my book, and -” Alison stopped. She knew how ridiculous the next part of her statement would sound. She shifted so she was angled toward Bryce. “I know this sounds stupid, but she disappeared.”

Bryce’s brow furrowed. “You mean she left?”

Alison shook her head. “No. She was there. I turned when I heard you walking up the stairs, and when I looked back she was - just gone.”

When Bryce spoke, her tone was gentle and reassuring. “I didn’t hear any voices when I came around the corner, and I - I assure you I would have heard something.”

Alison reached for the seat lever to her right and pulled it up, returning the seat to an upright position. Her head was beginning to clear, and the spinning sensation in her stomach was gone. “The acoustics are odd, and the stairwell is concrete, so you probably wouldn’t.” Bryce shook her head, but didn’t say anything. Alison was confused and feeling defensive. “Look, I appreciate your help, but I know what happened.”

Not waiting for Bryce’s response, Alison swung her legs out of the car, suddenly eager to be on her way. Bryce quickly stood and slid out of the agitated woman’s way. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to upset you.”

Alison shut the car door and took her bag from Bryce’s hand. Their fingers lightly brushed, and Alison was reminded how cool Bryce’s skin was, and how much she liked it. “I’m just tired. You helped me and had the decency to at least not call me crazy to my face - so I’m sorry.”

Bryce looked down. “It’s no trouble.”

The two women stood in an awkward silence, Alison hoping Bryce would say something, even though she had no idea what that might be. “Goodnight.” Walking around to the driver’s door, Alison managed a smile. “I was going to have a glass of wine when I got home, but hell, if this is me sober, I better skip it.”

Bryce grinned. “I assumed you were already drunk.”

Alison shook her head. “I wish. Take care.” She got into the car and locked the door. Pressing the button to lower the passenger side window, Alison leaned over. “Where are you parked?”

Bryce bent down, “Just over there.” She nodded towards her white Corolla four spots over.

Alison, still shaky from earlier, chewed nervously on the inside of her lip. “I’ll wait until you get to your car.”

Bryce grinned. “Thanks.”

Waiting for Bryce to walk past the back of her car, Alison backed out of the parking space and waited until the other woman was safely inside her car. Pulling forward, Alison scanned the garage for any sign of Christine. I’m not imagining this, and I’m not accidentally drunk.

Approaching the garage exit, Alison reached into the shallow nook in the center console of her car. Pulling her garage key card out, she heard something rattling around the cubby. Turning the interior cabin light on, Alison’s eyes widened when she extracted a small black stone from the center console.

Chapter 4

“She was just gone?” Lydia’s eyes widened as she took a drink of her margarita, the oversized salt crystals from the chilled glass rim speckling the table in front of her.

Alison dipped a corn tortilla chip into a shallow clay dish of red salsa and popped it in her mouth. She chewed for several seconds, letting the heat of the salsa coat her tongue. Taking a sip of her Corona beer, she shook her head. “It really creeped me out.”

Alison needed to talk to someone about what had happened in the parking garage. Nearly a week had passed, but the feelings of dread and uneasiness the encounter had invoked lingered with Alison. She had thought to confide in her sister, or even her mother, but knew their relatively conservative way of looking at the world would leave her mother Elaine humoring her, and Jules outright mocking her.

Luckily Lydia was available, and was also exponentially less judgmental. So the two women had agreed to meet for dinner at Tomatillos, a locally owned Tex-Mex restaurant near campus. Though the décor verged on gaudy with the oversized piñatas and brightly painted chairs and tables, the restaurant had some of the best beef fajitas in the city.

“I haven’t even told you the strangest part.” Alison had decided not to mention the stone until she could gauge Lydia’s reaction and skepticism. They were friends, but she didn’t want a co-worker thinking she was crazy.

Lydia put the oversized margarita glass down and reached for a chip. “Stranger than a woman vanishing and one of your students telling you she had never been there to begin with?”

“She’s not technically a student.” Alison had already corrected Lydia on this point once during their conversation. Even though Bryce had proven a little odd and unreliable, Alison was still attracted to her and didn’t want to think of her in academic terms.

“Whatever gets your head on your pillow at night.” Lydia chuckled.

Taking a long drink from her beer, Alison rolled her eyes. “Wait. This does matter. She’s auditing the class, therefore I’m not evaluating her, ergo she’s not a student.”

Staring blankly at her friend, Lydia took a deep breath. “Wow, that is some serious justification. I mean, Jesus, Ali, ergo?”

A rush of embarrassment spread across Alison’s face. “I was clarifying.”

“Right.” Lydia smirked.

Now desperate to get off the topic of Bryce’s enrollment status, Alison pressed on. “Do you want to hear the rest or not?”

Waving the waiter over for another margarita, Lydia smiled. “Of course. You’re the one that went all transitional words on me.”

The waiter arrived at the table before Alison could reply. She knew Lydia was right, and it was best to let it go. “Another margarita, please.” Lydia smiled coyly at the twenty-something Latino waiter.

“Another beer for you, ma’am?” The young man asked Alison, a smile spreading across his full lips.

“Sure. Thanks.” Alison handed him her empty beer bottle.

The man left the table, and Alison felt Lydia shooting daggers at her. “What?”

Irritated, Lydia leaned back in her chair. “Do you even know when it happens?”

Crunching on another chip, Alison shook her head. “When what happens?” She managed through a full mouth.

“When you get hit on.” Lydia sighed.

Alison looked at her friend and then in the direction the waiter had walked. “What? Him? Seriously?”

“I get a polite head nod when I order, but you get the Rico Suave smile.” Lydia’s tone was playful and Alison could tell she was in for some good humored ribbing.

“Clearly his charms were lost on me.” Alison grinned.

“Clearly. Finish your ghost story.” Lydia drummed her fingers on the wooden table top.

“Right, so then just before Bryce comes around the corner, the woman lifts her hand up and says she wants to give me something.” Alison paused as the waiter returned with their drinks and an even bigger grin on his face as he put Alison’s Corona down in front of her.

Avoiding eye contact with Lydia, she managed a strained grin. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” The man beamed as he walked away.

Squeezing a lime into her beer, Alison refused to look at Lydia. “Don’t. Just don’t.” Taking a deep breath, she continued her story. “So, anyway, she said she wanted to give me something and held out a small, black stone.”

“Random.” Lydia took a drink of her margarita, wiping her mouth with a white cloth napkin.

“It’s weird, and I didn’t take it, but then she disappears.” Alison wasn’t comfortable telling Lydia how she felt faint, and that Bryce had to practically carry her to her car. She definitely didn’t want to tell her how embarrassed she had been by Bryce’s clear awkwardness with their closeness. Ironically, Alison could attract all the twenty-year-old Latino waiters in the world, but she only wanted the one thirty-something Irish goddess who actively avoided her.

Shaking off the disappointment thinking about Bryce caused, Alison continued. “But when I got in my car minutes later, the stone was in the center console.”

Lydia stopped mid-drink. “Bullshit.”

Before Alison could continue, the waiter returned with a large, sizzling platter of beef fajitas and all the trimmings. Carefully placing empty plates in front of the two women, he smiled at Alison. “Can I get you two ladies anything else?”

“No. Nothing.” Lydia interjected, clearly annoyed. The man blushed and quickly excused himself. “Jesus, give it a rest, guy.” She reached for a flour tortilla. “So it was just lying in your car?”

Alison scooped several spoonfuls of borracho beans onto her plate. “Yeah. When I got home, I took it inside and looked at it closely for the first time. It seemed almost warm to the touch.”

“Some precious stones are warm or even cool to the touch regardless of the room temperature, so that’s not weird.” Lydia mumbled through a bite of taco.

Alison looked down at the table full of food, her appetite suddenly giving way to nausea. “It feels weird when I hold it, Lydia. Hot, almost electric.”

“Then don’t hold it.” Lydia stated matter of factly. “Get rid of it.”

“Is that what you would do? I mean, given the entirety of the story.” Alison asked tentatively as she bit nervously at the inside of her lip.

Swallowing a bite of her taco, Lydia reached for her margarita. “If I were you, I’d spend less time worrying about a rock and more time working up the nerve to ask non-student-Bryce out.”

Alison managed a faint smile as she took a drink of her beer. She was embarrassed to tell Lydia what had happened at the museum and then the downtown bar. The truth was she had already the nerve to ask Bryce out once and was brutally rebuffed for her efforts.

***

Alison had said her goodbyes to Lydia and was walking to her car. It was a little after dusk and the parking lot lights hadn’t turned on yet, leaving the lot cloaked in shadows. A chill shot up Alison’s back, and she quickly looked around, the uneasiness from the parking garage creeping back over her.

Fumbling in her purse, she silently berated herself for not having the pepper spray readily available. Just as her hand closed around the thin metal and plastic bottle, Alison’s cell phone rang and began vibrating. Startled, a short yelp escaped her lips, and then she looked around to see if anyone had witnessed her overreaction.

The parking lot was empty as she pressed the accept icon on the phone’s screen. “Hello.”

“Professor Bailey. Tom Hutchinson here. I hadn’t heard back from you regarding my articles and thought I should just bite the bullet and give you a call.” The man’s baritone voice was smooth and relaxed.

Alison squinched her eyes shut and wished she had thought to look at the caller ID before answering. “Mr. Hutchinson, I’m sorry. With the start of term I’ve been -”

“Mr. Hutchinson? Oh no, that doesn’t sound promising. Tom, please.” The man’s charm was effortless.

“Sorry. Tom." Alison liked the reporter, and though she had decided not to get involved with his project, she always felt bad when she had to let people down. "I’ve been very busy and was meaning to get back with you. Given my work load this term, I really can’t spare any time and think you would be better served -”

“I’ll tell you what, Professor Bailey, why don’t you and I have dinner, and I can have one more chance at convincing you to come on board with this.” Tom masterfully walked the line between persistent and pushy, never straying into the latter.

Alison was standing next to her car, her keys in hand as she considered the man’s offer. “I really -”

“It’s the least you can do for ignoring me the past week and a half.” Alison was amazed at how even the man’s attempts at manipulating her came across as casual and charming. She felt like she was in a Tennessee Williams play, minus the family drama and latent homosexuality.

“Okay, Tom. When and where? I’ll meet you.” Alison didn’t bother to mask the amusement in her voice.

“Well alright then.” Tom proposed, and Alison accepted, an invitation for the following Monday to Two Brothers Barbecue Market. It was a casual barbecue restaurant with expansive outdoor dining, and though she hadn’t personally eaten there, her brother Chad had recommended it several months ago.

Hanging up from Tom, Alison unlocked her car and tossed her purse into the passenger seat. Starting the car, she flipped her headlights on and slowly backed up. Nearing the parking lot exit, a beep came from the dashboard. Looking down, Alison frowned. The tire pressure gauge light was illuminated.

“Shit.” The Honda had been the first car she owned with the gauge feature, and the first time the warning had gone off about a month after she bought the car, it had turned out to be a faulty sensor.

Rolling her eyes, she pulled the car into an empty parking space adjacent to the sidewalk, put it in park, and got out. The parking lot lights cycled on as Alison walked around to the passenger side of the car, and she realized her luck had run out. The nearly flat rear tire was definitely not a sensor malfunction.

Rubbing the back of her neck, she shook her head. “Excellent.” She could call her roadside assistance, but in truth, she could change the tire and be on her way before they arrived. These pants were due to the cleaners anyway. Alison thought as she looked down at the light gray slacks.

Popping the trunk of her car, she shifted several bags of clothes she had been meaning to take to Goodwill over so she could access the spare tire and jack.

“Need help?”

Alison jumped, her head hitting the underside of the trunk lid. “Ow!” She grabbed the back of her head as she turned around. “Bryce? Shit, you scared me.” Alison looked around the deserted parking lot. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry - I thought that was you and maybe -” The woman took a step forward, her hand reaching for Alison’s throbbing head before she seemed to think better of it and stepped away. “I live in an apartment a few blocks over and sometimes I prefer to walk instead of driving. I’m sorry.”

A few blocks off the stretch of Broadway south of the campus, streets were lined with large, older homes that had been converted into multi-plex apartments. The occupants were often students, but it hadn’t occurred to Alison that Bryce would be living so close to the university, given she wasn’t a full time student.

“We seem to be meeting a lot lately.” Alison managed a smile, in spite of the ache that was rapidly spreading through her head.

Bryce smiled, her shoulders relaxing. “I was just thinking that.” She looked past Alison and into the trunk of the car. “Can I help with that?” Bryce’s Irish accent was not overly pronounced, but it caused a warm flush of heat to Alison’s face to hear the word help being pronounced as hilp.

“I can hear that accent of yours.” Alison smiled as she turned back toward the trunk and lifted the tire cover.

“I think after so many years that it’s gone.” Bryce put her black North Face backpack down next to Alison’s car and helped the woman lift the spare tire out of the trunk.

“Nope, and your th pairing is a dead giveaway.” Alison raised her eyebrows, smiled, and mimicked Bryce. “Ya siy afta so miny years. What are ya - tirty?” Alison began unscrewing the jack from its base.

Bryce laid the tire down flat on the ground and stood up, dusting her hands off on her faded blue jeans, a huge smile on her face. “You do that pretty well, professor.”

Alison hesitated as she lifted the jack out of the trunk. She didn’t like being reminded of her and Bryce’s primary relationship. “Linguistic classes during undergrad.”

Standing up, Alison looked at Bryce for the first time since being scared to death by her. She was wearing a pair of fitted, faded blue jeans, a long sleeve navy t-shirt, black leather flip flops, and a thin navy blue elastic head band that held her thick auburn hair off her face. She was the most beautiful woman Alison had ever seen, and suddenly how they knew each other hardly mattered.

Bryce and Alison stood staring at each other, neither woman able or willing to move. A quick flash of light skittered across Bryce’s green eyes, and Alison assumed the culprit was a passing car’s headlights. “Bryce, I-”

Something akin to discomfort crossed Bryce’s face. “The tire.” The spell broken, Bryce turned her attention back to the spare tire on the ground. “Let’s get you on the road again.”

Given Bryce’s demeanor, it was clear to Alison that whatever had just happened between them had not been entirely in her own head. Without a word, she went about getting the jack positioned under the car, and the two women worked in tandem, changing the tire within ten minutes.

Bryce lifted the flat tire up and into the trunk. Alison was impressed with her strength, given the tire and rim easily weighed forty pounds. “All done.” The beautiful redhead stepped back from the trunk.

A dime size grease smudge stained Bryce’s left cheek. Without thinking, Alison reached up and, cupping Bryce’s cool cheek with one hand, gently wiped at the grease with her thumb. “My mother used to do this with spit, so consider yourself lucky.” Alison looked into Bryce’s eyes. They were wide with shock and an even more intense green than usual.

Alison realized her mistake immediately. She hardly knew this woman and had been completely inappropriate. The tension of the moment was palpable as Bryce’s intense gaze stayed fixed on Alison.

Stepping back, Alison stammered when she spoke. “Anyway - you, you can get the rest.” Not knowing what else to do, the professor extended her hand. “Ah, thanks. You didn’t have to stop, but I’m glad you did.”

Bryce blinked several times as if pulling herself back from a trance. She quickly shook Alison’s hand and released it, shoving her own hands into her jean pockets. “I didn’t have to scare the beejezus out of you either, but I managed that just fine, too.”

Alison laughed, and Bryce grinned, the tension from moments ago gone. “Would you like to have dinner with me?” Alison had no idea where the question came from, or why she allowed it to exit her mouth. She had been thoroughly humiliated by this woman just a few weeks ago, and now she was going back for seconds.

Bryce frowned, and embarrassment surged through Alison’s body, causing her to start sweating. She could feel her shoulders tense. The awkwardness that was creeping its way forward was her fault, and she should have learned her lesson on that downtown bar stool three weeks ago.

In an effort to mitigate the feelings of inadequacy tightening their grip around her throat, Alison managed an explanation for the invitation that didn’t have anything to do with her attraction to Bryce. “I just thought since you helped me in the garage and now here, the least I could do is buy you dinner.” There, that sounded less pathetic.

Bryce shook her head and picked her backpack up from the ground. “There’s really no need. I mean, I nearly gave you a concussion tonight.”

“Let me at least give you a ride home then.” Alison hated how desperate she sounded when clearly the woman wasn’t interested.

Bryce’s expression verged on pained. “I’m only a couple blocks over. Thanks though.” Not waiting for Alison to respond, she turned and began quickly walking away.

Momentarily surprised by Bryce’s emphatic response, it took Alison a few seconds to get her bearings and walk after her. “Bryce. Hold up.” Is she seriously going to act like she can’t hear me? Determination replaced embarrassment and apprehension as Alison broke into a quick trot. “I can follow you home, but then I would know where you live.”

Bryce stopped, her back rigid as she turned to face the blonde. Seizing the opportunity, Alison continued. “I think I’ve offended you somehow, and I only meant to show my gratitude.”

Bryce looked intently at Alison, her bottom lip pinched between her teeth. “I’m not offended, I just can’t-” Alison wanted to pry the words out of the beautiful woman’s mouth, but forced herself to be patient. “I can’t have dinner with you.” Bryce managed after several seconds.

Alison nodded. “Okay.” She was going to leave it at that, but there was a sadness in Bryce’s eyes that pushed her forward. “Can you please tell me why you can’t?”

Bryce looked down, her hands shoved deep in her front pockets. “I’m not -”

Alison waited for what seemed an eternity before she spoke. “You’re not - gay?” She watched Bryce’s reaction carefully. The woman shook her head. “You’re not - attracted to me?”

Bryce’s eyes shot up. “God no, that’s not it.”

Alison was relieved. At least the longing looks and concerned gestures weren’t all in her head. The relief was short lived though, because she was out of explanations. “Then I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”

The uncomfortable woman stabbed at the sidewalk with the tip of her flip flop. “Can we be friends?”

This was not what Alison had hoped for, and she struggled not to hear the question as a euphemism for I’m just not that into you, but she liked Bryce. The pragmatist in her thought a friendship was better than nothing. “That would be nice.” Alison was surprised she managed to mask her disappointment. So much so that she nearly believed herself.

“That’s great.” Bryce’s tone and posture immediately relaxed, and she took a step toward Alison. “I like you.”

Alison grinned at the simplicity and sincerity of the statement. “I like you too. Dinner - or drinks, at some point then?”

Bryce nodded, a broad smile pulling at the corners of her perfect mouth. “That would be nice.”

The women said their goodbyes, and Alison walked back to her car feeling better than she had a right to. She had been essentially rejected by a beautiful, albeit mysterious, woman for the second time, but the promise of having Bryce in her life as a friend left her with a secret hope. A hope that friendship might take root and grow into something more.

***

“Ali, can you bring the bottle of wine out please?” Elaine Bailey’s voice came from the sprawling wood deck off the back of her and her husband Wayne’s Canyon Lake home. She was an attractive woman in her early sixties with light blonde shoulder length hair, and cyan-colored eyes.

Alison was sitting on one of three high back wooden bar stools in her parents’ kitchen with a half-eaten carrot jutting out of her mouth. Her parents had built the lake house a year ago, and in spite of the drive - Canyon Lake was nearly an hour north of San Antonio - she enjoyed visiting. Alison loved the Craftsman style architecture; the low-slung roof, wraparound porch, and dark wood and granite interiors made the nearly four thousand square foot house seem more intimate.

Balancing on the bottom rung of the bar stool, Alison reached over the gray granite bar and grabbed the bottle of Joel Gott 815 Cabernet Sauvignon before hopping off her seat. Walking toward the back of the house, her bare feet made a faint slapping sound on the chocolate colored birch floor. In spite of the size of the house, her mother had her interior designer maintain a cottage feel throughout the space. The dark woods had a distressed look and accent walls were exposed stone, giving the house an earthy ambiance.

Walking onto the large deck, Alison took a deep breath. The coolness of the early night air was a welcome relief from the heat of the city. The lake was a sprawling body of water, and her parents had built their house further away from the more populated and sportsmen dense portion of the lake. It was unusual to hear anything more than the faint sound of a motor boat.

“Just put that on the table, sweetie.” Elaine smiled at her middle child while basting six large chicken breasts on the built-in Char-Broil gas grill.

Alison put the bottle of wine down on the long black metal and glass table. Pulling her leg up under her, she sat in one of six metal chairs, sinking into the plush burgundy seat cushion. “Where is everyone anyway?” She crunched on the last of the carrot.

Closing the grill lid, Elaine wiped her hands on the red and white striped apron she was wearing. Looking at her platinum Movado watch, she calculated in her head. “Hmmm, eighteen holes, foursome - they should be back in the next half hour.” Handing Alison the electric corkscrew, she sat down in the chair next to her daughter.

A low hum, a series of clicks, and Alison had liberated the cork and poured her and her mother a glass of wine. “So how are you, Mom?”

Elaine took a sip from her wine glass and smiled. “I’m good.”

“How’s Dad?”

Setting her glass of wine down on the glass tabletop, the woman nodded. “Fine. How are you?”

Alison and her mother had been having the same conversation for the past twenty years. Since Alison was old enough to realize her parents were real people, with very real challenges and problems, and that their marriage wasn’t always a happy one.

Wayne Bailey had been in Texas politics since graduating from Rice University in Houston with a Bachelors of Science in political science. He had gone on to get his Masters in public policy from Baylor University and advised some of the most notable politicians in the state. He and Elaine had met at Baylor while she was finishing her undergraduate degree in economics.

Over the years, Wayne’s role behind the scenes in the Texas Republican Party had afforded him an inordinate amount of influence and authority. Though success in the professional arena had never eluded him, his ability to make meaningful connections with his family had. Alison always thought this was because she and her siblings couldn’t be managed or debated with in the way his assistants and counterparts could.

It was commonplace in the Bailey household that in the absence of actual facts to win an argument, Wayne Bailey would resort to the cliché because I’m your father and I told you so method. This had left him and Alison at odds on more than one occasion- in particular, when Alison’s choices contradicted her father’s professional ambitions.

“You’re seventeen. What can you possibly know about who to love, and why you love them?” Wayne had been in his favorite overstuffed leather recliner in his study, a Maker’s Mark bourbon with ice in a glass tumbler clutched in his left hand.

“I’m not naïve, Dad. I’ve dated guys and I know it doesn’t feel right for me.” Alison had been working up the courage to tell her parents she was a lesbian for nearly a year. On the eve of leaving for the University of North Carolina to begin her undergraduate studies, she had finally decided it was now or never.

Elaine’s tone was soft, but her brow was furrowed as she spoke. “Ali, what’s happened to make you think that you’re - a lesbian?”

It occurred to Alison that she had never heard her mother say that word, or her father either, and she immediately began to sweat with nervousness. “Robert and I dated for over a year, and before that I went out with Jason. I cared for both of them, but I never felt - passionate.”

Wayne huffed. “Christ, you’re practically a child; you wouldn’t know passion -”

“Wayne.” Elaine, who was sitting on the light brown leather sofa next to Alison, scowled at her husband. “Let her finish.” Rolling his eyes, he took a long drink of his bourbon.

Elaine took Alison’s hand in hers. “Go ahead.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Alison continued. “When I was at swim camp last summer, I met a girl, and we-” Alison chewed nervously on her lower lip. “We really liked each other, and for the first time - things felt right.” She didn’t dare confide how right things had felt with Debbie.

Pushing his 6’3”, thin frame up out of the recliner, Wayne walked across the room and poured another glass of Maker’s Mark, forgoing the ice. “Ridiculous.” He muttered as he turned to face his daughter. “If you think I’m going to let you gallivant around with - with women, then you have another think coming.”

Alison felt her face redden and her heart was pounding in her ears. She had structured so much of her life around what her father had wanted, and what his friends and colleagues thought about him and his family. When she told him she would be studying American folklore, not political science, he had been stunned. The idea one of his children had not taken his direction, thinly disguised as advice, was so shocking it had rendered him speechless.

“I’m not gallivanting, and it’s not ridiculous.” Alison’s voice trembled as she spoke, her hand tightening around her mother’s. “My entire life you’ve always said we could debate and talk about anything in this house.” The tears began to stream down her face. “But you’ve always set the parameters of what was acceptable opinion.” Wiping at her eyes, Alison took a deep breath. “This is who I am, and just because it doesn’t fall within a set of guidelines you deem worthy, doesn’t -” She had struggled for the word as her fear morphed to anger. “It doesn’t - doesn’t negate it.”

Her father’s face had turned several shades of red as Alison was speaking. Her mother stood up, and stepped between her husband and her daughter. “Wayne, you and I can discuss this, but Alison is our daughter and nothing trumps that.”

He looked at his wife, his eyes narrow. “So I’m the bad guy because I don’t want her relegated to a life of -”

Elaine held her hand up to silence her husband. “Stop now, before you make an even bigger ass out of yourself.” She stepped closer to her husband. “This is not about you or me.” Laying her hand on the man’s shoulder, her voice was soft, but stern.

His eyes moved from his wife to his daughter who remained seated on the sofa. Wayne shook his head. “I’m not paying for her school.”

Elaine gasped and turned to see a stunned Alison. “What?”

Wayne shook his head. “You heard me. If this is the life she wants, then she can pay for it herself.”

Alison had stood up at that point. The crying having stopped, she felt more confident. “Your money would be nice, but I don’t need it. And I don’t want it.” She had turned and left the study. The last thing she heard was her mother telling her husband how awful he was.

True to his word, Wayne Bailey had not paid for a single book, lab, or class throughout Alison’s undergraduate studies in North Carolina. She had taken out loans, worked at the campus bookstore, and driven a campus shuttle for the four years she attended school at Chapel Hill.

Elaine had clearly lost the argument with her husband, but she had paid her daughter’s rent every month from an account she kept independent of her husband. She even paid for her to fly back to Texas for Thanksgivings and Christmases.

Over time, Wayne’s attitudes had softened, in no small part because every other member of their family- Julia included, who most closely resembled their father in her political and life views- thought he was being unreasonable.

Though never entirely accepting of Alison’s sexuality, her father had met a couple of her girlfriends over the years. He had actually even taken a liking to Ashley Haines, Alison’s first serious girlfriend. They had met while Alison was working on her Masters at the University of Texas in Austin.

“She plays a decent round of golf, and her handicap is thirteen.” Wayne had said this casually after Ash and he had finished an eighteen hole round at the Dominion golf course north of San Antonio. “What’s not to like?”

On the other hand, Alison’s relationship with her mother had grown stronger over the years. She knew Elaine would never understand Alison’s attraction to women, but her mother knew that wasn’t the point. As far as she was concerned, the point was to support and love her children, regardless of who they loved.

Now, sitting next to her mother, Alison felt a tremendous amount of gratitude and love for a woman who had managed a difficult marriage, but never seemed to lose herself in it. “Are you going to keep consulting, Mom?”

Elaine had technically retired six months ago from her director’s position with the Overseas Development Institute, but continued to work with numerous relief organizations on developing third world infrastructures. “I am. I’ve got a few projects in the works, and I’m working on a white paper for the World Food Program.”

Alison nodded. “Regarding?”

Pouring another glass of wine, Elaine smiled at her daughter’s interest. “Food distribution, specifically in countries and regions that have no airport infrastructure and limited roads.”

“I was reading an article in the New York Times about Somalia, and the fact that out of sixty-two airports across the country, only seven have paved runways. That and the infighting make it next to impossible for relief organizations to get supplies into the region.”

“I speak to that in the paper at length.” Elaine’s smile became slightly mischievous. “So, sweetheart, are you seeing anyone?”

When her and her mother’s conversation took this turn, and it seemed it almost always did, Alison was torn between being touched that Elaine was comfortable enough to ask and being horrified she was asking. “I see lots of people, Mom.” Alison couldn’t help giving her mother a little grief.

Elaine huffed. “You know what I mean.”

Alison did know, and sadly the last few times she and her mother had broached the topic of her love life, the answer was the same. “I’m not seeing anyone.” She wasn’t about to tell her mother she had a major crush on a quasi-student who had stood her up and then nearly given her a heart attack.

Alison was saved from further discussion by the sound of the house alarm beeping, as the front door was opened. “Oh, look at that, they’re back.” She rushed back into the house, leaving an amused Elaine sipping her wine.

“It’s a two stroke penalty if you accidentally kick the ball with your foot, Chad.” Wayne handed his son a Shiner Bock beer from the large stainless steel sub-zero refrigerator.

“I didn’t kick it. I slipped.” Chad took a drink of the cold beer.

Julia and Gayle leaned against the counter with annoyed expressions on their faces. “Jesus, can you let it go? We all had a crappy round.” Julia always seemed to look immaculate even after running one of her many marathons. Tonight was no exception. Her thick, brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her electric blue Nike golf shorts hit her just above the knee, and complemented the matching white, sleeveless Dri-FIT shirt she was wearing.

Gayle rolled her eyes. “I second that.” Chad’s wife took a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water from the filter tap. Alison had always thought she was an attractive woman. She had a lean build and sandy blonde hair that she kept cut short. Her features were rounder than her frame suggested, but she had a beautiful smile with two perfectly placed dimples on either cheek.

Wayne looked at Alison. “It’s two strokes, right?” He was pouring himself a generous amount of Maker’s Mark as he looked expectantly at his daughter.

She had found herself in these tie breaker situations before, and it always made Alison uncomfortable. “Nope.” She waved her hands in front of her. “I’m not a part of this.” She turned and walked back toward the deck. “Dinner’s nearly ready.”

Walking back to the deck, Alison poured another glass of wine and sat back down at the table. “Need some help?”

Elaine was pulling the small foil packs that contained an assortment of vegetables off the grill. “I’ve got it. Did you let the brood know dinner was almost ready?”

Before Alison could answer, the remaining members of the dinner party made their way onto the deck. “He hadn’t had his teeth cleaned in over ten years, and he’s a smoker.” Chad was regaling the group with a dental war story.

“That’s disgusting.” Jules had joined her father and had a glass of bourbon in her hand as she took a seat next to Alison. “What does that even look like?”

“Enough.” Elaine interrupted as she sat a platter of grilled vegetables in the center of the table. “That’s not good dinner talk.”

Chad sat down across the table from his sisters, and then leaned over, his voice lowered. “The Ganges River - at low tide - in the summer.”

Gayle, who had sat down next to her husband, cringed. “And I let you touch me with those hands.”

The table erupted in laughter. “Hey, I wear gloves.”

“I don’t know that there’s latex thick enough, my love.” Gayle leaned over and kissed her husband on the cheek. “Elaine, let us help.”

Shaking her head, Elaine plated the chicken breasts, and made her way to the table. “It’s done.” Putting the platter down, she looked over at her husband who was standing at the railing of the deck with his bourbon in one hand and his iPhone in the other. “Wayne. Dinner.”

The man nodded absently and went back to typing on the phone. “Let’s start without him.” Jules insisted. “Otherwise, it could be hours.”

The group began plating the food. Alison looked at her mother, who was clearly annoyed with her husband as she kept looking accusatorily at him.  Alison was reminded of a passage from Anna Karenina: All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.

***

It was Alison’s turn to do dishes as the rest of the family lounged on the deck, occasional bursts of laughter finding their way into the kitchen and bringing a smile to Alison’s face.

“Need help?” Chad walked in, a half empty glass of wine in his hand.

Alison looked suspiciously at her brother as she finished filling the top rack of the Kenmore dishwasher. “I’ve known you my entire life and you’ve never offered to do dishes.”

Leaning against the granite counter next to Alison, Chad smiled. “I offered to help.”

“I see. Well, in that case, you can load the flatware.” She nodded toward the left side of the sink that was full of forks, spoons and knives.

“Check.” Putting his glass down, Chad began loading the Kenmore’s silverware basket.

Alison and her brother had always been comfortable with silence, but she had the distinct impression, given his usual absence during dish washing, the man had something on his mind. “How are things with you?” She asked casually.

“Oh, fine. And you?” He didn’t look up as he loaded the last of the knives into the dishwasher.

Alison shrugged. “Uneventful.”

Chad nodded. “Seeing anyone?” An image of Bryce shot through Alison’s head along with a flush of heat to her face, causing her to drop a blue serving platter in the sink. She cringed at the loud clink the plate made as it hit the bottom of the sink.

“Shit.”

Chad chuckled. “Am I to take that as a yes?”

Lifting the large blue plate up, and inspecting it for cracks, Alison feigned ignorance. “What?”

Chad leaned on the counter and smirked. “Who is she?”

Determining the plate was undamaged, Alison placed it in the dishwasher. “Who?”

“Whoever is causing you to blush like that.” Chad picked his glass of wine up and took a drink.

Dropping the detergent pellet into the dispenser, Alison closed the dishwasher’s door and pressed the wash button. Before she could reach for the small white hand towel next to Chad, her brother grabbed it and hid it behind his back. “So?”

Her hands still dripping with water, Alison felt a surge of annoyance with her brother. “It’s nothing.”

Chad’s eyebrows shot up. “You admit there is someone to quantify as a nothing.”

Alison rolled her eyes. “And to think, some disreputable institution gave you a degree with that kind of logic.”

Chad shook his head while still clutching the towel behind his back. “I won’t be distracted. What gives?”

Alison playfully flicked water at her brother, who instinctively started to wipe his face with the hostage hand towel, affording Alison the opportunity to grab it from him. “Serves you right.” She flung the now damp towel at the amused man. “And for the record, it really is nothing.”

Chad tossed the towel on the counter. “I have news.”

“I assumed something was going on given your sudden interest in dishes.” Alison reached for Chad’s glass of wine and took a drink. “Spill it, brother.”

Looking over his shoulder toward the deck and then past Alison to ensure they were alone, a sadness flashed across his eyes. “Gayle has decided to pursue alternative medicines for the infertility issue.”

Her brother’s tone and body language told Alison he didn’t agree with this approach. “That’s becoming more popular these days.” She didn’t know very much about the process or the means, but one of the administrative assistants at the university had success with a variety of Chinese herbs, in spite of being nearly forty-three when she conceived.

“It just seems like a last desperate lunge.” Shaking his head, Chad poured himself another glass of wine.

“Assuming you keep her doctor in the loop, it’s not desperate. It’s just broadening your options.” She squeezed her brother’s shoulder reassuringly.

“I guess.” Chad glanced back toward the deck as a wave of laughter filled the house. “I want her happy, and this seems to be what she wants.”

“What are you two chatting about in here?” Julia walked in the kitchen, an empty glass in her hand.

Alison took a step back from Chad and gave him a supportive smile. Managing a casual tone, the man smirked at his older sister. “I came in for a new bottle of wine, and our sister roped me into helping her with the dishes.”

“You’ve dodged the chore enough over the years, seems fair.” Julia nudged Chad’s shoulder as she reached around him for the bottle of Maker’s Mark. “Hey Ali, I didn’t want to say anything in front of Dad, but I might be able to redeem myself on the whole blind dating front.”

Alison shook her head. “Nope. Forget it, Jules.”

Chad took the opportunity to grab the now half empty bottle of wine and leave without a word. “Coward.” Alison scowled at her retreating brother.

“So you’ll go?” Julia asked as she refilled her glass with the caramel colored bourbon.

Unable and unwilling to stifle a mocking laugh, Alison began walking toward the back door. “Ah, no.”

Julia took several quick steps to catch up with her annoyed sister and, grabbing her wrist, spun her around. “But I’ve felt terrible about what happened with Robyn.”

Alison looked intently at her sister, who she knew had nothing but her best interest at heart. She was such a bulldozer in her execution, though, that Alison wanted to shake her. “I’m doing okay on that front, Jules; so don’t feel bad.” Seeing the surprised expression on her sister’s face, Alison immediately regretted she had said anything.

“Really? Then you’re seeing someone?” Julia grinned.

“Well, no - not exactly. No.” She took a step back, wanting desperately to escape what she knew would be something akin to the Inquisition.

“Then what’s the problem?” Julia took a long drink of her Maker’s Mark.

Sighing, Alison leaned against the wall and crossed her arms over her chest. “The problem is I don’t want you fixing me up. We have - well, we don’t have compatible tastes.”

“What does that mean?” Julia had gone from sales person to interrogator in half a second.

“It doesn’t mean anything, except what I said. We have different tastes. Not better, not worse, just different. Frankly Jules, what could you possibly know about women from a dating perspective?”

Julia’s shoulders set, and her expression went flat. “Clearly not much less than you given your dating history.”

The low blow hurt Alison, but she knew better than to let her sister see, as it would only spur her on. “I don’t want to argue, Julia. Can we just agree the set-up thing is a bad idea?”

Julia pursed her lips as she looked at Alison. Considering she was still firmly planted with her shoulders squared, Alison held out very little hope her older sister was going to call a truce.

“There you two are.” Elaine walked past the two women. “We need more wine out there.” The woman grabbed another bottle of Joel Gott from the rack that lined the farthest wall of the kitchen and paused when she reached her two daughters. Her eyes moved back and forth between the two women as they glared at each other. “Whatever this is, ladies, wrap it up and get back to the group ASAP.”

Instantly Alison’s tension released. Her mother had always approached her children’s spats in a matter-of-fact manner, refusing to acknowledge them as anything more than childish antics.

Julia turned to follow Elaine back to the deck. “We’ll discuss later." she muttered to Alison as she walked past.

Frowning, Alison followed the two women down the hall, hopeful her sister’s sudden interest in her social life would wane sooner rather than later.

Chapter 5

Stroke, stroke, breathe. Stroke, stroke, breathe. Alison had repeated the same mantra in her mind for over twenty years. She began swimming competitively her freshman year of high school and had continued until her junior year at UNC, when she had to decide whether to pursue her academics more vigorously or take her swimming to the next level. Knowing the relatively short professional life of a competitive swimmer, she had opted for a more sustainable path.

Three times a week she came to the university pool and swam laps, proud she had maintained the form and fitness necessary for the butterfly stroke. Stretching for the wall at the end of her last lap, Alison grabbed the side of the pool, enjoying the burn in her legs and arms.

Pulling the black Speedo latex swim cap off, Alison leaned her head back in the water, smoothing her tousled hair. Wiping the water from her eyes, a quick flicker of heat shot through her as she looked up and saw Bryce standing near the bleachers talking to a petite, middle aged Hispanic woman.

The women stood with their backs to the pool. Both were wearing form fitting swimsuits, but Alison could only see Bryce. The woman’s legs were flawlessly toned, her arms were a perfect balance of definition without being too bulky, and the navy blue swimsuit clung to her in just the right places. Alison loved the woman’s long, thick auburn hair, but found the sight of it pulled up in a tight bun, exposing Bryce’s long neck, even more enticing.

Having never blushed in a pool before, Alison waited for the heat in her face to subside before she pulled herself up and out of the water. Grabbing the small, black hydro towel she had left next to the pool, she wiped the excess water off her arms and legs before adjusting the shoulder straps on her black Speedo swimsuit.

Grabbing at a moment’s courage, Alison walked over to the women. The large aquatic center was filled with the echoes of splashing water and enthusiastic co-eds as she approached the two women.

“Hey, Bryce.” She had wanted to say something clever and brilliant, but evidently two syllables were the extent of her charm this evening.

Both women turned around. There was a flicker of excitement across Bryce’s eyes, followed immediately by a broad smile. “Alison, hi. What are you doing here?”

“Playing rugby, and you?” Alison looked at the Hispanic woman, who laughed.

Bryce winced. “Sorry, stupid question.” The other woman cleared her throat. Bryce looked at her and then shook her head. “Oh, god, sorry. Sylvia, this is Bryce - ah, I mean Alison, this is Sylvia.”

Alison was torn between being amused at Bryce’s social awkwardness and feeling sorry for her. Extending her hand, Alison greeted the shorter woman. “Nice to meet you. How do you know Bryce?”

The woman smiled warmly at Alison. “We’re taking a swimming kinesiology class together.”

Alison let the woman’s hand go and looked at Bryce. “Really? Where do you find the time? I mean my class, at least one night course, and now swimming. When do you sleep?”

Bryce chewed nervously on the inside of her bottom lip and Alison thought it was the sexiest thing she had ever seen. “I manage.” Bryce responded.

Alison nodded, and the awkward silence was broken by a stout Caucasian man in a pair of yellow swim trunks and a well-worn gray University of the Incarnate Word t-shirt walking briskly past the three women. “Okay ladies and gentlemen, let’s get our fannies in the water.”

Sylvia fell in behind the man. “Nice to meet you, Alison.”

Bryce shrugged. “That’s the instructor. Have to go.” She hesitated like she wanted to say something, but as quickly as the inquisitive look crossed her face, it was gone. “See you later?”

Alison nodded. “Evidently we can’t help ourselves.”

Bryce chuckled, managed an awkward wave, and walked after Sylvia toward the opposite end of the pool where she joined ten other swimmers. Not able to help herself, Alison decided to sit down on the aluminum bleachers and watch the class.

It was obvious from the start that Bryce did not know how to swim. In spite of her beautiful lean body, she moved through the water like a spasming hippopotamus. The instructor was patient and took additional time to assist the clumsy woman with her technique.

Bryce struggled with the basics; she was unable to relax her body and lay flat in the water. Alison covered her mouth, hiding her amusement at watching the woman’s backside bob up and down in the water as she attempted a breast stroke.

After ten minutes, Alison started to feel guilty about her voyeurism and walked toward the locker-room. She entered the locker lined, white tiled room. It smelled of chlorine and Chanel No. 5, mixed with a myriad of floral scented soaps and shampoos.

It was nearly eight o’clock at night. The evening rush had thinned, and those left in the aquatic center were still in the pool; so Alison stood alone as she spun the combination lock on her locker. Distracted by how Bryce had managed to still look gorgeous while making a spectacle of herself, Alison shook her head as she made the third attempt to enter in the combination.

Finally opening the locker, Alison grabbed the bottle of Paul Mitchell shampoo, a navy blue bath towel, and her purple shower flip flops. Winding her way through the maze of lockers, sinks, and changing rooms, Alison walked into one of five shower stalls. Each stall had a frosted, plastic curtain and a white tile dividing wall that came to Alison’s shoulders.

Putting her toiletries on the narrow stainless steel shelf at the back of the stall, Alison pulled the curtain closed, peeled off her black Speedo swimsuit, and draped it over the half wall along with her towel. Turning the water on, she stood to the side of the stream, waiting for it to heat up.

Glancing down the row of stalls, and realizing she was the only one using the showers, Alison stepped under the hot water, tilted her head back, rinsing the excess chlorine out. A sudden wave of vertigo washed over her, and she grabbed for the shower wall. Her stomach knotted, and for a split second she thought she might vomit. Leaning her forehead against the cool tile of the stall to steady herself, Alison took several deep breaths, water from her short wet locks streaming down her face.

“Hello, Professor Bailey.” Christine’s voice came from directly behind Alison.

Spinning around, Alison pressed her back against the wall, her eyes wide with panic as she crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “How did you get in here?”

The woman stood on her tip-toes, her arms crossed and resting on the top of the dividing wall as her eyes roamed up and down Alison’s naked body. “I see the swimming has kept you very fit.”

The woman’s exaggerated smile sent a chill up Alison’s spine as she grabbed for the bath towel and quickly wrapped it around her naked body. “I’m calling campus security.” Alison forced the confidence into her voice as she pulled the shower curtain back.

Christine suddenly stood face-to-face with the blonde, her voice a whisper. “Are you certain?”

The woman was at least two inches shorter than Alison, but managed to square her shoulders and set her jaw in such a way that she was more intimidating than her small frame would suggest. Looking past the woman, Alison could see the blue emergency call box on the wall near the end of the showers.  “What?”

“I asked if you’re certain you want to call security.” Christine’s voice was low and seductive as she ran her index finger along Alison’s bare, wet shoulder.

Revulsion at the woman’s touch shot through Alison and, clutching the towel tighter to her body, she pushed past the smaller woman. “Move!”

“Why so testy, professor?” The woman began laughing, the high-pitched cackle echoing off the tile. “It’s just us girls.”

Practically ripping the phone receiver out of the wall, Alison spun around to face Christine. Campus police. What’s your emergency?

Mouth open, and eyes wide, Alison stared at the empty shower stalls. The only exit was where Alison now stood, and yet Christine was gone. Hello, is anyone there? The operator’s voice broke through Alison’s shock.

Alison cleared her throat. “My mistake. Sorry.” A series of clicks and Alison was standing, alone, with the black phone receiver clutched in her hand. The only sound was the running water coming from the shower she had exited moments before.

Her hand shaking, Alison missed the receiver handle on her first attempt to hang the phone up, and only managed on her second try by using both hands. Clutching the blue towel to her, Alison took two tentative steps forward. “Hello?”

Her voice sounded hollow as she slowly walked back toward the shower stall. Her shoulders ached from tension, and her legs trembled as adrenaline continued to course through her. She knew the woman could still be in one of the stalls and simply crouching behind a divider wall.

I should have had the police come anyway, Alison thought. But she knew she would have a hard time explaining what had happened, and the last thing she needed was rumors going around campus about the professor who went around the bend in the showers.

The first two stalls were empty, as was the one Alison had occupied. Turning the water off, Alison felt sour bile rising to the back of her throat as she nervously peered over the dividing wall into another empty shower stall.

With only one stall left, Alison stepped around the tile wall and into the adjacent stall. Summoning her courage, her heart pounding in her ears, she leaned over to find the stall as empty as the other four.

Stepping out into the walkway, Alison felt numb. She gathered her belongings from the shower and walked back into the main locker room. Sitting on one of the metal benches that lined the wall near her locker, Alison stared blankly at the floor. I’m having a breakdown. Or some late onset schizophrenia.

Just as she was resolving to see a therapist, several swimsuit clad women rounded the corner. To Alison’s dismay, one of them was Bryce. She was rattled enough without having to act cool with the beautiful redhead.

“Oh, Alison, I didn’t know you were still here.” Bryce’s tone was casual as she stood next to a slouching Alison.

Wiping at her face, Alison’s pride pulled her up off the bench. “Just wrapping up.” Her throat was tight, and she suddenly had an overwhelming urge to sob uncontrollably. Turning her back to Bryce, Alison began fumbling with her combination lock. “Shit!” Her frustration surged and she slammed the lock against the locker.

A cool hand wrapped around Alison’s and gently turned the anxious woman around. “Are you okay?” Bryce looked at Alison, her green eyes full of concern. “Do you need something?”

The question, along with the intensity of Bryce’s stare, caught Alison off-guard and it was several seconds before she could speak. “I’m - I’m okay, thanks.” She slowly pulled her hand free of Bryce’s.

The two women stood staring at each other, Bryce in her swimsuit and Alison wrapped in a towel. Suddenly, and without warning, longing rippled through Alison, and she thought she might sink from the burden of it.

“You look - upset.” Bryce had taken a step toward Alison, and her voice was low.

When did she get so close? A swirling had started in Alison’s stomach that was threatening to spin out of control with the nearness of Bryce. “It’s -”

“There you are.” Sylvia’s voice charged into the tight space between Bryce and Alison, breaking the moment, and slamming Alison back to earth.

Bryce blinked, and smiling, turned toward her classmate. “Yes, here I am.”

“Still up for a drink?” Sylvia opened a locker three down from Alison’s and removed a towel and shower caddy.

“I just need to shower.” Bryce glanced at Alison who stood mute next to her. “Would you like to come with us?”

Feeling more like herself, Alison shook her head. “No. It’s late, and I have an early class.” She pulled the combination lock open and removed her clothes from the locker. “See you around.” Walking toward the changing rooms, Alison could feel Bryce’s eyes on her, and her cheeks reddened.

Pulling the drape closed as she entered the changing room, Alison shook her jeans out and heard a metallic ping as something flew from one of the pockets. Bending down, she scanned the floor, and fell to her knees when she saw a small, black stone lying in the corner.

***

Had it not been for a friendly text message earlier that afternoon, Alison would have forgotten about her dinner with Tom Hutchinson. Now she was pulling into the gravel parking lot of Two Brothers Barbecue Market nearly ten minutes late.

It had been four days since the incident at the aquatic center. Alison had not told anyone about the strange interaction with Christine, or the woman’s ability to seemingly appear and disappear at will. She had, though, taken the black stone to Dr. Benjamin Hinojosa. She had met Ben at a faculty mixer over a year ago. Given his background in analytical chemistry, Alison had hoped he might shed some light on what the rock was.

“Where did you get this?” The 5’8”, middle aged, Hispanic man held the warm, black stone between his thumb and forefinger.

“My parents live near Canyon Lake. I was hiking, and there it was.” Alison thought it best to avoid the truth for fear her colleague would think she was crazy.

Looking over the top of his wire framed glasses, Ben frowned. “This was near a lake?”

Alison felt heat rise to her face. She was a terrible liar, and worried Ben was seeing right through the tall tale. “Yeah.”

Shrugging, the man laid the rock down on his desk. “So what do you want to know about it?”

Alison exhaled, relieved that for now her lie was holding. “It feels warm to me, and I don’t know anything about rocks or chemical make-ups or -” Get to the point, Alison. “Can you tell me what kind of rock it is?”

Ben leaned back in his overstuffed leather office chair and nodded. “It will take some time. Besides, what does it matter?”

Sensing the professor’s hesitancy, Alison smiled and leaned forward in her chair. Resting her elbows on Ben’s desk, she lowered her voice. “Weren’t you the one who told me at last year’s holiday party that people should be more interested in the world around them? Question and observe.”

At that same holiday party Lydia had informed her, after several rum and cokes, that Ben had a terrible crush on Alison. Though she always thought Lydia exaggerated her appeal to the opposite sex, Alison was not above wielding it like a blunt tool.

As Ben leaned forward, Alison could see what looked like a coffee stain on the collar of his short sleeve white dress shirt. He was an intelligent and thoughtful man, but he embodied the typical academic persona. His hair was always disheveled, his glasses smudged, and his tan Dockers were at least two sizes too large for his relatively petite frame.

“You remember that?” Excitement sparked in the man’s brown eyes.

Alison leaned back and crossed her legs, the hem of her gray skirt hitting just above the knee. “Of course.”

Ben’s eyes darted down to Alison’s exposed knee and a blush of red found his cheeks before he cleared his throat and looked back down at the rock. “Well, I can get you a chemical analysis by the middle of next week.” He grinned. “I’ll have one of my doctoral candidates work on it.”

Now, walking toward Two Brothers, Alison’s iPhone chimed in her purse. Pressing the email icon, she skimmed the message from Ben. Come by when you have a minute. I’ll be here all this week until seven. Odd rock.

“Hello.” Tom’s voice interrupted her reading.

Looking up she managed a weak smile. “Oh, hi.”

Tom frowned. “Curb that enthusiasm, professor.”

Putting her phone back in her purse, Alison shook her head. “Sorry. I have a couple irons in the fire right now so I'm feeling a little scattered.”

“No trouble. I appreciate you making the time for me.” Tom smiled and pointed to a large chalkboard that ran the length of the far wall. “We order at the counter and, in true Texas fashion, we order by the pound.”

Looking around the restaurant for the first time, Alison thought it was indeed pretty typical of a South Texas barbeque joint. The ceiling was the exposed underside of the metal roof, and the cedar panel walls were decorated with various tools and faded metal gas station signs. One sign read Free Air in large orange script, and Alison couldn’t help but smile at the joke.

“What’s your poison, professor? My treat.” Tom smiled broadly as he looked past Alison at the menu board.

“That’s very nice of you.” Alison turned to the blond, bright eyed young man behind the counter. “Let’s see, I’ll have a link of sausage, potato salad, and a serving of pinto beans.”

“I’m ordering brisket, and a lot of it. Are you game?” Tom leaned on the worn vinyl counter top.

“I won’t embarrass myself by saying I’ve been known to eat nearly my weight in good brisket, but-” Alison winked at the man, and an amused expression spread across his face.

“Well, alright.” Turning to the cashier, Tom rattled off an order consisting of a pound of brisket, cream corn, a sliced dill pickle that Alison thought was easily the size of her forearm, and a rack of baby back ribs.

“I’m relieved you won’t go hungry, Tom.” Alison teased as they gathered their utensils, napkins, drinks, and three different barbeque sauces from a large wooden wagon that had been repurposed into a condiment bar.

Sitting down at one of the indoor booths, Alison unwrapped the silverware and took a drink of her lemonade, its crisp tartness causing her lips to pucker.

“I’ll cut to the chase. Are you interested in being a source for my series?” Tom took a drink of his ice tea.

Given the odd events of the past few weeks, and the horrible nature of the crimes Tom was featuring, Alison would have been within her rights to tell him no. In the end though, the project, and obviously the subject matter, interested her.

“I am.” A broad smile immediately spread across Tom’s face, and Alison couldn’t help but catch his enthusiasm. “But I have a few rules.”

Chewing a bite of brisket, Tom wiped his mouth. “Shoot.”

“First, I get to read each completed article before publication, and if I think you’ve gone Blair Witch on me, I won’t permit my name to be associated with the piece.” Alison watched Tom’s reaction carefully. He nodded his consent, so she continued. “Second, with my class schedule we will need to set up recurring meetings, and if possible have the option to Skype.”

The corner of Tom’s mouth turned up as he listened to Alison. “Easy enough.”

“Lastly – actually, that was it.” Alison took a bite of the pinto beans that tasted of bacon and garlic.

“All very reasonable requests.” Tom rubbed his hands together. “So, let’s get down to it. My editor has agreed to a three part series. The overarching theme is around cultural bias and how it influences perceptions, interpretations - and ultimately how a community responds to crisis as a result of superstitions and folklore. The draft of installment one is due to my editor in three weeks and parts two and three every subsequent two weeks.”

Alison was momentarily taken aback by Tom’s shift in tone. To that point, he had been a casual, plainly spoken, charming man, but when the topic of his writing came up, his professional acumen shone through.

“Sounds great. I can provide you with several links and books you might be interested in. Specifically, the Colonial era in Mexico.” Alison pulled the iPad from her mailbag, and finding Tom’s contact information, copied and pasted several hyperlinks before sending. “Many of the legends and superstitions unique to South Texas were created from a mix of religions and indigenous beliefs.”

Tom smiled. “Thank you. I’ll be pickin’ your brain as I get more information about the cases.” He sighed. “The main issue is I haven’t been able to find anyone in the SAPD that is willing to talk about the cases with me. It’s causing the whole project to move slower than a month of Sundays.”

Alison chuckled at the Southern colloquialism and immediately decided she wasn’t going to mention her ex-girlfriend was a homicide detective with the city. She had no idea if Ash could, or would, help. “Is there any flexibility on those deadlines?”

Tom drank the last of his iced tea. “I’ve never missed a deadline, and not to sound cliché, but I don’t intend to start now.”

Alison nodded. “I wish more of my students had that attitude.” She glanced at her watch. “Speaking of, I have to get going.” Tom stood as she slid out of the booth, and he eagerly reached for the strap of her bag, helping her pull it onto her shoulder. “Thanks, and I enjoyed dinner.”

Tom grinned. “Me too. Same time next week?”

Pulling her car keys out of her bag, Alison ran through her schedule in her head. “Yes, but let’s meet at the Starbucks across from campus. Does that work?”

“Perfect.” Tom smiled warmly, and Alison couldn’t help but return the gesture as she made her way toward the door. She was growing fonder of the man, and though the thought of asking Ash for a professional favor made her nervous, her desire to help Tom moved her past her usual comfort zone and ensured she would make the awkward phone call.

***

“Can you dumb that down a little for me, Ben?” Alison was driving home after dinner with Tom.

“It’s a crystalline-based rock.” After several seconds of silence, Ben sighed. “Are you familiar with the hot dry rock geothermal energy concept?

“Ben, assume silence is not golden, and that I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Alison turned into the faculty parking lot.

“Crystalline-based rock formations are nearly dry, and because of that, it’s been suggested their surface is ideal for heat exchange within a loop. A closed circuit if you will, one end pinging off the other.” Ben was over enunciating his words, and Alison was trying not to feel like a small child learning to read.

“Is that why the rock feels warm?” Alison hoped the question wasn’t too obvious.

“Exactly! But where’s the other end of the loop?” Ben’s enthusiasm did little to abate the tension growing in the pit of Alison’s stomach.

Pulling up in front of her house, Alison put her car in park, and felt a tightness pressing on her chest. “I have to go, Ben. Thanks for the information.” Moving the phone away from her ear, she heard Ben still speaking.

“Don’t you want the rock back?”

Alison hit the end button. She did not want the rock back, and if she understood the crash course in geothermal theory her colleague had just given her, she didn’t want to be near the rock. As impossible as it sounded, and as ridiculous as Alison felt even contemplating the possibility, she believed Christine was the other end of the loop.

Chapter 6

Alison walked into Picnikins, an upscale bistro near midtown, to meet her ex Ash for lunch. She had come directly from her morning classes and was wearing a pair of Anne Klein black boot cut slacks, a charcoal gray colored short sleeve cotton button-up blouse, and a pair of gray patent leather heels.

In spite of the fact the two women had stayed in touch over the years through mutual friends and eventually on Facebook, Alison had not actually seen her ex since she attended Ash’s mother’s funeral over three years ago.

If she were honest with herself, she was nervous. She and Ash had met at the University of Texas in Austin while she was working on her Masters and Ash was finishing her Bachelors of Science. They had dated for over three years and each considered the other their first serious relationship.

Their break-up had been amicable as both women agreed they had grown apart romantically, even if they still cared for each other very much as friends. Ultimately, Alison had struggled with Ash’s professional choices and knew she wouldn’t be able to manage the emotional ups and downs of being with a police officer. Danger and intrigue had never interested her. She had always thought life - on its own - could provide enough heartache and disaster without cultivating it into a thirty year career.

“Ali.” Ash’s voice had a mezzo-soprano pitch that had always brought a rush of heat to Alison’s stomach. The effect hadn’t lessened over the years, nor had Ash’s beauty. Nearly six feet tall in her black Cole Haan heels, Ash’s olive tone skin was flawless and complemented her angular features. Her long brown hair hung loosely down her back and, in typical fashion, the detective was dressed impeccably in a black Kenneth Cole pant suit.

“Hi.” Alison couldn’t help but smile as the two women hugged.

Keeping her arms around Alison’s waist, Ash leaned back, a huge grin on her full lips. “You cut your hair.”

Alison shrugged. “It was an impulse during the summer when it hit a hundred and five.”

Ash nodded, a look of admiration on her face. “Good impulse.”

The two women sat down at the narrow two-top table. “How the hell have you been, Ali?”

Alison smiled as she hung her purse over the back of the chair. “Busy. The new semester started. I agreed to teach a night course on top of the three courses I’ve got during the day, and I’m considering a third book and whether I want to take on a doctoral candidate next spring.” She poured herself a glass of San Pellegrino that she assumed Ash had ordered while she waited.

“Are you still swimming?” Ash took a drink of her mineral water.

“Yes.” Ali opened the menu, a chill running up her arms as the memory of Christine in the empty locker room ran through her mind. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Alison managed a smile. “Three times a week. Let’s add that to the list.”

Ash frowned. “Clearly not happily, by the look on your face.”

Shaking her head. “Oh, no I love swimming. You know - it clears my head.” Wanting to steer the conversation onto a more pleasant track because she had never been any good at masking her feelings around Ash, Alison put the menu down. “How are you? I was horrified when I saw you had been involved in those motel killings last spring.” Alison shuddered. “You can’t imagine the relief when you responded to my text that you were okay.”

Ash winced. “You were one of many. My phone lit up for three days.”

Alison instinctively reached for Ash’s hand. “People who know you tend to be fond of you, friend, and I’m very sorry about your partner Cris.”

Ash squeezed Alison’s hand affectionately, the memory of her dead partner pushing tears to the back of her eyes. “You’re sweet.”

Sensing Ash needed a different topic of conversation as well, Alison released her hand with a reassuring smile. “Speaking of people that know you - are you seeing anyone?” Over the years, Ash and Alison had spoken openly about their relationships, and Alison had always been grateful for their candor.

Before Ash could answer, the waitress returned. “Have you ladies decided?”

Alison flipped the menu open. “Let me have the Greek salad, no olives, dressing on the side, please.”

“And for you, ma’am?” The twenty-something brunette gave Ash a generous smile.

“I’ll start with a bowl of chicken tortilla soup, and then the bleu cheese bacon burger, with fries.” Ash skimmed the menu. “And can you bring me a slice of rum cake for after, please?”

The waitress smiled, picked up the menus, and left an open mouthed Alison staring at Ash. “What?” Ash smirked.

Managing to close her mouth, Alison's brow furrowed. “You always had the nutritional sense of a prepubescent boy, but are you going to be able to walk out of here?”

Ash laughed. “Thanks, Ali, a fat joke. Neat.”

Ali shook her head. “Not even - a diabetic coma joke, actually.”

Shifting in her seat, Ash leaned back and crossed her long legs. “I missed breakfast.”

“Ah, okay.” Alison looked suspiciously at her friend. “So, seeing anyone?”

Ash grinned and folded her napkin twice before laying it back in her lap. “Yes.”

Alison knew from the slight blush and her usually confident friend’s sudden shyness, that whoever the woman was, Ash was smitten. “And?”

Ash chewed nervously on the inside of her lower lip. “She’s one of the deputy medical examiners. We met about nine months ago, and - wait for it - we’re living together.” A broad smile had found its way to Ash’s mouth.

Alison chuckled at Ash’s turn of phrase and could see from the way her face had lit up that she clearly cared for the woman. “What’s her name?”

“Emma, Dr. Emma Atman.” Ash beamed.

Alison leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “You’re so gay for her, aren’t you?”

Ash nodded enthusiastically. “I really am.”

Leaning back, Alison smiled. “That’s awesome, Ash.”

“What about you? Any luck with happily ever after?”

Alison sighed. “A few dates here and there, but nothing even close to a U-Haul rental.” She was tempted to get Ash’s perspective on the Bryce situation, but thought better of it since she hardly knew how to define it, much less have a conversation about it. “Jules managed to set me up with a married straight woman awhile back, and that was special.”

Ash nearly spit her water out. “Your sister is special.”

Ash and Julia had not enjoyed each other’s company when Alison and she were dating. The two women by their very natures were competitive, and that made for some intense outings that usually left Alison feeling emotionally drained and wedged between defending her sister or her girlfriend.

Ash and Alison looked at each other. The years they were together and the subsequent friendship had left them familiar and comfortable with each other, regardless of the time that passed between visits. Alison had always been impressed with both of them for how they had managed the break-up and the friendship. She considered her and Ash’s relationship to be one of the more adult things she had done in her personal life.

“Here you are.” The waitress returned with a tray of food, most of which belonged to Ash. “Can I get you anything else?”

“We’re good.” Alison nodded as she began cutting up her salad.

After eating a spoonful of soup, Ash wiped her mouth. “So, your messages were cryptic, and though I’m thrilled to see you - let’s get to it.”

“You’re so smooth, Haines.” Alison teased. “You really know how to charm the ladies.” Ash took a bite of her burger and gave Alison an exaggerated, closed-mouth grin.

Clearing her throat, Alison took a deep breath. “I was approached a few weeks ago by a journalist for Texas Monthly. He’s doing a series on South Texas superstitions, how communities and cultures interpret killings, death - all of that - in the context of legend, folklore, et cetera.”

Ash wiped her mouth and took a drink of mineral water. “Seems right up your alley.”

Alison nodded. “It is, but evidently the details of the killings he is interested in using as the main focus of the series have been locked down.” Taking a bite of her salad, Alison looked intently at Ash.

“Are you referencing the three murders on the Southside over the past couple months?” Ash put her burger down and gave Alison her undivided attention.

“I am. According to Tom - the journalist - the details of how the victims were killed have been vague at best.” Alison watched Ash closely to see if she was hitting a nerve. She didn’t want her friend getting defensive about her colleagues or her work.

“I don’t know what to tell you. They’re not my cases, and short of the few details presented in the weekly debriefs by the assigned detectives, I probably don’t know much more than you.” Ash picked her burger back up, a piece of bleu cheese falling to her plate.

Alison didn’t speak, but looked earnestly at Ash, who was mid bite when she stopped. “What?” Alison’s eyebrow arched. “Oh, come on, Ali. I can’t go digging around in another detective’s case. I wouldn’t appreciate someone snooping around in mine, and not when it’s for an article.”

“Tom said the killings were very ritualistic in nature and incredibly brutal.” Alison laid her fork down, just the idea of such brutality turned her stomach.

Ash looked at the half eaten salad, and then the worried expression on her friend’s face. “I - I guess I could ask around, but don’t expect much.”

Alison smiled. “I appreciate that.” Unable to eat anything else, she slid her plate back. “So where are you living?”

Ash finished the last of her burger and held her index finger up, indicating she needed a second to finish chewing. “The Stone Oak area. Are you still over near Huebner?”

“I am. Finally finished all the work on the house and able to enjoy the space instead of being in constant renovation mode.” In spite of some of the pitfalls of buying a fixer upper, Alison had enjoyed the last few years of remodeling and decorating her home to exactly her tastes.

“Send me photos. I would love to see it.” Ash took a long drink and looked around for the waitress. “Where’s that rum cake?”

Alison laughed as she reached for her purse. “Sadly, I have to get going. I have a class in thirty minutes I’m already going to be late for.”

Ash frowned. “This was too short.”

Alison grinned. “We should do drinks sometime. I would love to meet Emma.” She laid a twenty dollar bill on the table. “Have you seen Al lately?”

Ash nodded. “How could I not see Alan?”

Alison laughed. Alan Martelli had been Ash’s best friend since they met their freshman year at the University of Texas. Alison had met him when Ash and she started dating, and by proxy, Alan and she had become friends. He had an Italian father and Chinese mother. That combination had afforded him the best of both worlds aesthetically, gifting him with thick black hair, pale smooth skin, a lean frame, and slightly elongated light brown eyes. All of that, and an incredibly quick and intelligent wit, made him a must have in any social circle.

“Is he seeing anyone?” Alison couldn’t imagine the handsome man wasn’t.

“Several anyones, but I think he’s getting serious with a gentleman who’s a buyer for the shop.” Ash smiled at the waitress as she removed the empty plates and slid a generous slice of rum cake in front of Ash.

Alison got up, sorry she had to cut the lunch short. Seeing Ash always made her happy. “Drinks then, the four of us?”

“Absolutely.” Ash stood and the two women hugged. “I’ll get back with you by the weekend on the case.”

“I appreciate that.” Alison squeezed Ash’s shoulder and walked out of the restaurant.

***

Ash watched through the restaurant’s large windows as her friend walked to her car. She had forgotten how beautiful the professor was, and how easy it was for the two of them to pick-up where they left off. Alison had been the first woman Ash had loved, and even though she knew their break-up was the right choice, it had been one of the more difficult ones in Ash’s life.

Pulling her phone from her back pocket as she took a bite of the rum cake, Ash pressed the call button.

“I was just thinking about you.” Emma Atman’s light voice brought an immediate smile to Ash’s face.

“So, I’m on your mind?” Ash teased.

“Always.” Emma’s tone was suggestive, and Ash felt a rush of heat to her cheeks.

“Man, how do you do that?” Ash put her fork down.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Emma feigned ignorance. “How did your lunch go with Alison?”

“That’s why I called you, actually.” Ash took another bite of cake.

“What are you eating?” Emma asked, clearly amused by her girlfriend’s attempt to multi-task.

“Sorry for the chewing, but I’m running late and still have half a piece of cake to get through.” She took a quick sip of water and continued eating. “Anyway, have you worked on any of the bodies from those Southside killings?”

“No, I think all three of those went to Dr. Westin.” The sound of typing followed the doctor’s answer. “Let me look - yes, Westin. Why?”

Ash finished the last of the cake, wedged the phone between her ear and shoulder, and dug around in her purse for her wallet. “Alison is working with a Texas Monthly reporter on a series about the killings, and I really don’t know much, but thought you might.”

“Have you talked to the department’s PR representative about this or submitted the necessary forms for release of information regarding active cases?” Emma asked matter-of-factly.

Ash smiled. “You mean form eleven dash I’m-helping-out-a-friend dash six? That form?”

There was a long pause. “You’re making fun of me, but the last thing we need is an investigation.”

Ash frowned and knew Emma was right to be cautious. “I’ll take care of it, and will you do the same on your end, and let me know what you find out?”

“I can. Was it nice seeing her again?” Emma asked casually.

Ash laid two twenty dollar bills on the table and walked toward the door. “It was. She wants to get together with you, Al, and me for drinks sometime.”

“That would be fun, just let me know when.” There was a knock in the background. “Have to go, see you at home later?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Ash and Emma said their goodbyes as Ash slid into the driver’s seat of her hardtop, silver Jeep Freedom.

Though she had downplayed it, the conversation with Alison had piqued Ash’s curiosity. Her own case load was relatively light while her lieutenant decided who she would be partnered with, given her current partner Alfred Lopez was retiring in a little over a week. With the extra time, Ash didn’t see any harm in discreetly checking into the cases. If she had learned anything in the past year, she knew things were rarely what they appeared to be.

***

True to her word, Ash had called Alison over the weekend and given her additional information about the cases. Alison was grateful for the follow-up and hadn’t pushed her friend for more details, even though it seemed to Alison the detective was holding something back.

Alison took a sip of her grande Americano as she and Tom sat at a narrow table near the entrance of a Starbucks. They agreed to have their recurring meetings at the coffee shop because it was near campus, and Tom was apparently a dedicated coffee drinker, as was evident by the quad espresso he had ordered.

“Is this accurate?” Tom read through Alison’s notes.

Nodding Alison put her coffee down. “Gruesome, but true. The bodies were beheaded, burned, and then buried with the heads placed on top of the graves.”

“I knew from my other sources the bodies had been burned and buried, but I didn’t know about the beheadings.” Tom shook his head as he drank the last of his espresso in a single gulp.

“Tom, does anyone else know I’m helping you with the series?” Alison hadn’t intended to ask the question, but as she did, she flashed back to the eerie interactions she had with Christine.  Her throat tightened, and the hair on her arms stood up at the very thought of the woman’s wide slash of a grin.

“Just my editor. Why?” The man looked concerned.

“It’s nothing.” Alison reached into her leather mailbag and pulled out her iPad. “I’m going to send you several sites I found that speak to the ritual of beheading.” She slid her index finger across the touch screen to unlock the device. “You’re familiar with "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow"?”

Tom nodded, his brow furrowed as Alison continued. “A slightly less well known tale by a Scot-Irish novelist named Thomas Mayne Reid called The Headless Horseman, was published in 1865. Though it’s sourced from multiple Texas tall tales, it is based mostly on one called El Muerto.”

“What is that? Dead or the dead one?” Tom was writing quickly in his blue Mead binder.

“Either. So, the story goes that the headless horseman is a thief that was hunted down and brutally murdered. He’s then cursed to ride the prairies forever, haunting and chasing other thieves.” Alison took a drink of her coffee. “It’s a cautionary tale, clearly meant to discourage thieves as the horseman’s curse is a warning to would-be criminals. Given the context of what’s happened more recently, the three beheadings may be warnings to - let’s say, members of a rival crime family.”

Tom stopped writing. “Are you thinking the Mexican Mafia?”

Alison shrugged. “Not my department, but three headless men would be a pretty loud message.”

Alison watched as Tom continued writing. A movement out of the corner of her eye, and that second when she realized she knew the person standing in front of the coffee shop, pulled her attention away from the man.

Bryce was sitting down on a concrete bench in front of the Starbucks, removing several books from her black backpack. To both Alison’s dismay and delight, the woman was stunning. Though it was an overcast day, she was wearing a pair of black RayBan Wayfarers sunglasses.  A pair of slim cut Gap jeans hugged her thighs, and a form fitting long sleeve forest green t-shirt accentuated her narrow waist. Her long, auburn hair was pulled back in a loose bun, with several wayward strands tucked behind her right ear.

“Where’d ya go, professor?” Tom interrupted Alison’s admiring.

“What? Sorry.” Alison turned her iPad off and slid it back in her bag.

Looking out the window, Tom smiled as his eyes came to rest on Bryce. “No need to apologize, she’s distracting as hell if you ask me.”

Alison blushed and shifted nervously in her chair. “I wouldn’t know.”

Tom snickered. “The hell you don’t. I might not know much, but I know women, and I’ve been fortunate to be on the receiving end of a few looks like that over the years.”

Alison looked back at Bryce to find her now talking with a petite, early twenty-something brunette woman who was laughing at something Bryce had said. Alison felt an unfamiliar twinge of jealousy and immediately hated herself for it. Bryce was beautiful, and though she was a little awkward, clearly intelligent. It made sense that people would want to be around her. But do those people have to be so damn attractive?

“Are we good, Tom?” Alison gulped the last of her coffee, the hot liquid burning the roof of her mouth. Wincing, she picked her bag up and laid it across her lap. Alison suddenly felt impatient and wanted the meeting to end. If she were honest, she wanted it to end before Bryce left.

Sighing heavily, Tom stacked his cup in Alison’s now empty cup. “That feels like a rhetorical question to me.” He stood up and taking a few steps toward the door, tossed the cups into the trash before pushing the glass door open. “Come on. We’re done.”

Alison grinned shyly at Tom, and thanked him as she exited the Starbucks. Having said their goodbyes, Alison turned toward where Bryce was sitting. To her utter delight, the woman was now alone. Summoning her nerve, Alison crossed the short distance between her and the woman, standing awkwardly in front of Bryce for several seconds before the woman looked up.

Shielding her eyes with her right hand, Bryce smiled when she looked up and saw Alison. “Ali- sorry - Professor Bailey. How are you?”

Alison exhaled, the blood returning to her arms and legs. “You can call me Alison outside of class.” She glanced at the empty spot next to the redhead. “May I?”

“Of course.” Bryce slid a stack of books over to make room for Alison.

Alison picked up a thick, blue book that lay on top of the stack. “Personal Identity?” She opened the textbook and began thumbing through it. “Another class?”

Bryce pushed her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose with her middle finger. “Existentialist Metaphysics. I’m only a few weeks in, but I’m very interested in memory as the defining characteristic of personality and how as we make new memories, we become different people.”

“Do you want to be a different person?” The question had been more direct than Alison had intended. Bryce lowered her head, and even with the sunglasses, Alison could see her brow was furrowed. “Hey, sorry - stupid and ridiculously personal question.” She squelched the urge to take the woman’s hand and comfort her, knowing that would only lead to more awkwardness.

“No. It’s fine.” Bryce began gathering her books into her backpack.

Alison chewed nervously on the inside of her cheek. She was making a fool out of herself and embarrassing Bryce in the process. “Do you have to go?”

Zipping her bag, Bryce looked at Alison for what seemed an eternity before answering. “No, but I’m sure you have better things to do.”

Alison internally cringed at the uncertainty in Bryce’s tone and words, but managed a smile when she spoke. “I am remarkably unattached for the afternoon and thought we might have another go at that drink.”

The corner of Bryce’s mouth turned up slightly. “That would be nice, but I walked over, so can I meet you somewhere?”

Alison laughed before she could think better of it. “Ha! I’ve heard that one before, and you’ll forgive me, but I think I’ll drive us both this time.”

Sighing heavily, Bryce rubbed the back of her neck nervously. “Right. Perfectly understandable.”

The two women stood up, and Alison had to stifle the urge to skip as a sudden wave of euphoria washed over her at the prospect of spending the afternoon with the beautiful woman. “Consider me a built in DD.”

Bryce stopped, her backpack slung over her right shoulder, and cocked her head to the left. “DD?”

Alison nodded. “You know, designated driver. I’m your gal if you decide to tie one on this afternoon.”

Bryce pulled the other backpack strap over her left shoulder. “Are you making fun of the Irish thing again?”

“Oh, god, no. I was just-” Alison felt heat rise to her cheeks as she stumbled to explain, but seeing the smirk on Bryce’s face, smiled. “I guess I had that coming.”

Bryce shrugged. “Glad I’m not the only one keeping score.”

Alison grinned. “Let’s go. We can check out Esquire for real this time?”

Bryce nodded, and as the two women walked, Alison wondered now that she finally had her date with Bryce, what in the hell they were going to talk about.

***

The awkward silences were starting to wear on Alison.

“So, ah, you’re originally from Galway County? Am I remembering that correctly?” Alison took a drink of her Jameson whiskey double, the ice clinking against the glass as the smoky wood and nut flavors coated her tongue and throat.

Bryce nodded as she repeatedly rotated the half empty glass of Bushmill whiskey around between her hands. “Yes. Good memory.”

Alison smiled. “I’ve never been to Ireland, but it’s on my bucket list.”

Bryce took a drink and after a few seconds, nodded. “It’s lovely.”

The long pauses in their conversation were accentuated by the fact it was the middle of the afternoon on a weekday, and with the exception of two men sitting near the back of the bar, the place was empty and quiet.

Alison leaned back in the booth. The worn, wooded benches reminded her of church pews circa 1890, and she wondered if, in spite of her atheism, she should pray - or maybe chant and burn incense - for an easier ebb and flow of conversation with the woman across from her.

“How long have you been in the States?” Alison finished the last of her whiskey double, and feeling she might need another to get her through what was rapidly starting to feel like a job interview, she waved the bartender over for another round.

“A few years, and you?” Bryce flinched. “I mean, how long have you lived in San Antonio?”

Alison handed the bartender, an Asian gentleman in his late thirties with what looked like a barcode tattooed on the right side of his neck, her empty glass. “Would you like another?”

Bryce refused to make eye contact as she threw back the last of her Bushmill and handed the glass to the amused bartender, who clearly was enjoying the awkward exchange. “Yes, please.”

“To answer your question, all of my life. Except for college, and when I was ten we lived in Houston for a few years.” Though Bryce’s slip a moment ago tickled Alison, she managed not to laugh because the woman was clearly embarrassed.

Bryce hesitantly looked up at Alison. “Did you like Houston?”

“I’ll tell you Houston is a great city to be from.” Alison grinned. “And that’s all I have to say about that.”

The bartender returned with the drinks. Alison picked up her glass and raised it. “Know any good Irish toasts?”

Bryce’s eyes narrowed and she pursed her lips as she raised her glass. “May you live to be a hundred years, with one extra year to repent.”

Alison chuckled as she took a drink. The toast had triggered a question regarding Bryce’s religious background, and though Alison usually considered such topics taboo, particularly when she hardly knew someone, she was getting desperate and couldn’t imagine things going any worse.

“Repent? Are you Catholic?” Alison watched Bryce’s face carefully for signs the question had offended her.

“I’m Irish.” Bryce stared intently at Alison, a subtle smile slowly forming on her lips.

Shaking her head, Alison took another drink. “Nope, I’m not being suckered into another Irish stereotype. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me.”

Bryce laughed, and the melodic sound filled the bar. Alison couldn’t decide how she felt about this woman. Even though she was guarded, and sometimes she seemed uncomfortable in her own skin, she had interested Alison at first sight.

“I am not Catholic.” Bryce was still smiling as she looked at Alison.

“Religious at all then?” Alison felt a shift in the conversation, an easing into it that she hoped would continue.

Shaking her head, Bryce emptied her glass. “No. I’m an atheist.”

“Hey, like speaks to like.” Alison raised her glass and grinned. “Cheers.”

“How did you decide?” Bryce asked earnestly.

“When I was thirteen, I had a friend named Hunter.” Alison was surprised she was telling this story to a practical stranger. “He was a year older than me, but we knew each other from the neighborhood. In fact, he had been one of the first friends I made when we moved back from Houston.” She took a deep breath. “He was sweet, and I liked him. Thinking about it now, I guess he might have been gay.” Her friend’s sexuality hadn’t occurred to her until she was imagining him, in this moment, from an adult’s perspective.

“Anyway, I came home from school, and there was an ambulance in Hunter’s driveway.” Alison swallowed the lump in her throat. “It would seem Hunter and a friend of his had found his father’s rifle and thought it wasn’t loaded. His friend accidently shot Hunter in the head, and that was it - he was dead.”

Alison wiped at her eyes, the tears catching her off-guard. “Crap. Sorry. Total downer.” She grabbed her napkin. “I don’t know why that story occurred to me.”

“Because since then you haven’t been able to reconcile the infinite contradictions of a God who loves you, but punishes you at the slightest provocation.” Bryce unexpectedly laid her cool hand on top of Alison’s warm one. “An omnipotent God who either can’t, or simply doesn’t choose to, stop the death of a child. How can you make sense of that - or worse, condone it?”

“Exactly.” Alison was acutely aware of Bryce touching her and fought the urge to turn her hand over and entwine their fingers. “Not godlike at all, but more like a sociopathic, bipolar ex-girlfriend who loses her shit, burns all your jeans, and then blames you for making her do it.”

For the second time Bryce laughed. “I hope you’re not speaking from experience.” She leaned back and took the reassurance of her hand with her, leaving Alison feeling sad again for an altogether different reason.

“I’m happy to say I am not speaking from experience.” Alison waved the bartender over for another round. Handing the man her and Bryce’s empty glasses, she frowned. “Oh, maybe I shouldn’t. What is that, two or three?”

Bryce shrugged. “I usually keep the glasses. That way I don’t lose count.”

The bartender chuckled. “That was round three, ladies.”

Alison felt relaxed and didn’t want the outing to end. “No fair, you keep a tab.” She laughed at her own joke and thought she might be getting drunk.

“Maybe you should eat something?” Bryce suggested, an amused look on her face. “May we have a menu, please?”

“Sure.” The bartender smirked as he left the table.

“Are you going to eat?” Alison looked worried.

“I ate earlier.” Bryce shifted in the booth.

“Let’s share an appetizer then. I’m not really that hungry.” Alison was starting to get the tunnel vision she knew proceeded her being full on drunk, and Bryce looked like she was at the farthest end, but the idea of food made her stomach sour.

“I’m a vegan, so I’m not sure there’s anything for me to eat here.” Bryce took the menu from the bartender and began looking over it.

“Really? Vegan?” Alison was intrigued. “Was that a moral decision for you, or something to do with your health?”

Without looking up from the menu, Bryce answered matter-of-factly. “Both.”

Alison sat back and realized she was practically lying down in the booth. Forcing herself upright, she leaned her elbows on the table to help steady herself. “I can’t believe this.”

Bryce put the menu down. “Believe what?”

“I’m drunk and you’re - well, you’re fine.” Alison opened her eyes wide in an effort to focus them.

“So much for you being my designated driver.” Bryce spun the menu around and slid it over to Alison. “What do you feel like?”

The rectangular shaped, laminated menu was a blur of words and pictures to Alison, but she managed to focus long enough to read the first item on the appetizer list. “Fried pickles, please.” She turned to hand the menu back to the bartender, pleased with her order, but confused where the man went.

“He’ll be back, and then you place your order.” Bryce was clearly trying not to laugh at her friend.

“Of course, that’s how it works.” Alison rubbed her face.

Bryce frowned. “Hawareya doing?”

Alison grinned. “I love your accent. Very sexy.” A twinge of embarrassment washed over her. Was that out loud?

“Thanks.” Bryce bit her lower lip nervously as the bartender returned.

“Ladies, have we decided?”

Realizing Alison wasn’t going to answer, Bryce handed the bartender the menu. “Fried pickles, and water - no ice.”

Turning her head side to side, Alison took several deep breaths. “Christ, how did this sneak up on me so fast?”

“You weigh what, one thirty, you’re maybe 5’6”?” Bryce glanced down and then back up at Alison. “Three whiskies in the span of an hour - and you get what we’ve got here.”

“A failure to communicate.” Alison randomly rattled off the famous line from the film Cool Hand Luke.

Resting her chin on her hand, Bryce looked confused. “I don’t understand.”

Alison waved her hand dismissively. “Movie reference, and I know - you don’t watch a lot of movies.”

A broad smile spread across Bryce’s lips. “No, I don’t, but look.” She reached into her back pocket and pulled a black iPhone out. “I purchased a phone.”

Alison clapped, got up, pulled her phone out of her back pocket and quickly slid into the booth next to Bryce. Their thighs touching, Alison leaned in to look at the shocked redhead’s phone. “What’s your number, so I can put you in my contacts?”

When Bryce didn’t answer, Alison looked up from the phone. In her drunken state, she couldn’t interpret the expression on her friend’s face. Bryce was sitting perfectly still, her jaw set, and her eyes seemed to be glowing in the dim light of the bar.

“What?” Alison asked. “Don’t you know the number?” After several seconds, Bryce cleared her throat, and quickly spoke the nine digit number. Alison’s fingers weren’t working properly. “Hold on. One more time.”

Bryce repeated the numbers, her voice strained and flat. Alison smiled. “Okay, I’ll text you and then you can add me to your contacts.”

Alison was concentrating on her phone and didn’t realize the bartender had brought the fried pickles and water until she had a small plate slid in front of her by Bryce. “Here, eat this.”

Looking at the food, Alison winced. “I don’t know if I should. My stomach.”

“Then please drink the water.” Bryce slid the pint glass in front of her inebriated friend.

Taking several long drinks, Alison felt her stomach begin to settle. “I don’t think I should drive home.”

Bryce had shifted, so their legs were no longer touching, and now sat turned, facing Alison. “Should we get you a cab then?”

Alison considered her options. “I don’t want to leave my car downtown, and then I have to get a way back to the car tomorrow.”

Bryce frowned and tapped the index finger of her right hand nervously on the table. “I - I could drive you home. I guess that would be okay.”

Oblivious to the obvious discomfort Bryce was in, Alison nodded. “Perfect. Wait - how will you get from my house back to yours?”

“I can call a cab.” Bryce’s shoulders slouched and the grimace on her face made clear her displeasure with the arrangement.

Alison reached for Bryce’s hand, taking it between both of hers. “I really appreciate it, and I promise this is not a normal thing for me.”

Bryce pulled her hand back. “I understand. Happens to the best of us.” She signaled for the check from the bartender.

“Let me get this. It sort of makes up for the cab. And the inconvenience.” Alison got up and returning to her side of the booth, began digging around in her purse for her credit card.

“Excuse me a minute, I need to use the loo.” Bryce got up and walked toward the back of the restaurant.

The bartender took Alison’s credit card and a few minutes later, returned with her copy of the receipt to sign. “I hope you have a good afternoon. You and your friend.” The man grinned and left Alison to attempt to calculate the gratuity with only half her brain working.

“Ready?” Bryce was standing next to the booth with an expectant look on her face.

Alison slid out of the booth, and handed Bryce her keys. “I am.” Without thinking, and because she was feeling a little unsteady on her feet, Alison looped her arm through Bryce’s and leaned on the woman as they exited the bar.

“Good god, it’s bright out here.” Alison shielded her eyes from the afternoon sun. The clouds from earlier in the day had disappeared.

Bryce had already put her sunglasses on and was maneuvering Alison in the direction of the car. “My father used to say there’s nothing like an afternoon drunk. Makes for one hell of a midday and a bitch of a night.”

Alison laid her head on Bryce’s shoulder. She felt the woman tense, but feared lifting it back up too quickly would give her an even worse case of the spins. “I think I would like your father. Is he still alive?”

Bryce gently shifted Alison away from her and slid her arm around the blonde woman’s waist. “No.”

“Do you know you have a habit of answering questions with a very nondescript yes or no?” Alison charged.

Shaking her head, Bryce leaned Alison against the passenger side of the car. “Do you know you have a habit of asking closed-ended questions?” Bryce took a deep breath in through her nose, and even with the sunglasses on, she was standing close enough that Alison thought her eyes flashed an intense green.

“Something is rarely black or white.” Bryce’s voice was low and intimate.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Alison willed herself not to step back even though the nearness of Bryce was making her even more lightheaded. “True. Lots of gray out there.” Why am I using my bedroom voice in the middle of a parking lot?

The coolness of Bryce’s lips pressed to Alison’s cheek and too quickly disappeared as the woman stepped back. Opening the door, Bryce moved to the side so Alison could get in the car. Closing the door, she walked around to the driver’s side.

Alison laid her head back against the head rest and even though her eyes wanted to slam shut, she forced them to stay open for fear she would get motion sickness from the spinning. Reaching across the center console, she put her hand on Bryce’s firm thigh. “Drive slow and try to avoid any sharp turns.” She pulled her hand back and leaned against the door.

Without a word, Bryce started the car and put it in drive. “Are you going to be able to direct me to your house or should I figure out how to use the GPS on my phone?”

“I can get us there.” Looking at the woman next to her, Alison felt a surge of tenderness, but had sobered enough to know a hug was completely inappropriate. “I really want to hug you right now.”

Bryce didn’t flinch as she pulled the car forward. “You’re drunk; otherwise, you wouldn’t be saying that.”

Alison turned to face Bryce. “Not true. I’ve liked you from the start.”

Bryce glanced in the rear view mirror, but still wouldn’t look at Alison. “Impossible.”

“What’s impossible?” Alison’s seatbelt was digging into her neck, and she pulled on it nervously. She hadn’t intended to have this conversation - ever - much less when she had been drinking, but now she couldn’t see a way out of it.

“You’re a nice woman, Alison. More importantly, you’re a good person.” Bryce’s tone was hard to read, but Alison felt the dreaded I’m just not attracted to you like that speech beginning, and she suddenly wished she had taken that cab.

“Forget I said anything. It’s nothing.” Alison moved as far away from Bryce as she could without opening the car door and flinging herself out, though the thought crossed her mind.

After nearly a minute of uncomfortable silence, Bryce finally spoke. “Where am I going?”

Forcing herself to sit up in the seat, and not slump against the door like a pouty child, Alison gave Bryce general directions to her neighborhood. “Once we exit Huebner, I’ll give you the cross street.”

The remainder of the ride home was silent except for Alison giving Bryce the last of the directions to her house. “This is a nice neighborhood.” Bryce commented as they pulled up in front of Alison’s three bedroom garden home.

“I like it. It’s quiet and not too far from the university once I get on the highway.” Alison unhooked her seatbelt and opened the door. “Come inside while you wait for your cab.”

Bryce turned the car off, grabbed her backpack from the back seat, and followed Alison into the house. “I should be out of your hair in no time.” The woman stood awkwardly in Alison’s tiled entryway, refusing to come any further into the house.

“It’s no trouble. You did me the favor. Come in and sit while you wait.” Alison had walked toward the back of the house where her kitchen was for a glass of water. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, thank you.” Bryce’s voice was still coming from the entryway.

Alison was starting to feel more like herself as she held her glass under the kitchen faucet. She was mortified by her behavior over the past hour, and Bryce’s unexpected visit to her home was also making her uneasy. Returning to the front of the house, Alison didn’t want to be pushy, but she also didn’t want the awkwardness of having Bryce hovering in her walkway. “Let’s wait in the living room.”

Without a word, Bryce followed her. Alison had always been fond of this room in particular. She had decorated her house in tans and olive tones as they were her favorite, and this room was accented nicely by the walnut wood floors and the chocolate colored sofa and love seat.

Alison sat on the sofa. Bryce sat on the farthest end of the love seat, put her bag down on the floor, and leaned back, resting her hands on her thighs.

Is she going to say something? Alison took a sip of her water as she looked at the woman across from her. “You seem tense?” Clearly I’m still drunk.

Bryce’s eyes widened. “Not at all. I just don’t want to be a bother.”

Alison felt a surge of irritation and before she could think better of it, her mouth was moving. “I wish you would stop that. That’s not the first time you’ve implied that somehow I’m doing you a favor by associating with you.” Alison leaned forward and put the glass of water down on the oak coffee table. “Because you should know, I don’t spend time with people I don’t like.”

Bryce crossed her legs, her back perfectly straight. “Would you like to go bowling with me sometime?”

Blinking several times in an attempt to clear her head, and try to figure out what direction the conversation was now taking, Alison stammered. “What? Oh, yeah - that would be - good.” Confused at how what she thought was going to be a discussion about their relationship had turned into a bowling night invite, Alison nodded. “Let me know when and where.”

Bryce rested her elbow on the arm of the love seat. “Friday night. You can pick me up at my apartment, around seven?”

Alison’s breath caught. “Your apartment?”

Frowning, Bryce’s posture stiffened again. “Or - I mean, we don’t have to.”

Alison’s mouth felt dry and she couldn’t tell if it was dehydration from drinking or nerves. “Your place is great. I’m just surprised is all.”

Bryce looked down at her hands. “Is that not what people do?”

Cocking her head to the side, Alison was perplexed by the question. “I - well, yes. That is what people do.”

Grinning, Bryce leaned forward. “Good. I live at 67 Cadence Street, number three.” Patting at her pockets, Bryce pursed her lips. “Should I text it to you? Because I can do that now.”

Retrieving her cell phone from the back pocket of her pants, Alison held it up triumphantly. “Technology for the win. I’ll add it to your contact info.”

Nodding, Bryce began typing just as her phone buzzed. “My cab is here.” She got up and grabbed her bag. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow?”

Alison’s shoulders tensed. She had forgotten that aspect of her and Bryce’s relationship, and the candor of her behavior over the past few hours suddenly felt like a repressive weight on her chest. “I’ll be there.” Her cheeks felt tight as she forced a smile.

Bryce’s face lit up with a broad smile. “That’s - that’s great.”

Alison followed Bryce to the front door, and they stepped around each other, both trying to open the door. “Sorry, just - I’ll get that.” Alison practically lunged toward the door.

Bryce took a decisive step to the side and waited. “Thank you.” Putting her sunglasses on, she stepped out onto the porch.

Alison waved as her friend walked to the waiting cab. The day had certainly not turned out as she had imagined, but minus her impersonation of a college student on a drinking binge, Alison couldn’t complain.

***

“If you don’t like her, then you don’t have to date her.” Julia took a drink of the 14 Hands Cabernet Sauvignon she had insisted on ordering a bottle of, even though Alison had been emphatic that she would not be drinking during their lunch at Arcade Midtown Kitchen. She didn’t see the point in telling her sister she was still hung over from her whiskey binge the day before with Bryce.

“Easy for you to say. I’m the one that has to sit through an awkward two hours of my life I’ll never get back.” Alison pushed the half eaten chicken breast around on her plate. She knew eating something would alleviate the constant drum roll going in her head, but her stomach felt tight and a little sour.

“You’re so dramatic, Ali. Dating is like car shopping; you have to test drive a few lemons before you settle on the keeper.” Julia waved the waiter over. “Can we see a dessert menu, please?”

The middle aged Hispanic man smiled, reached into his crisp, white apron, and pulled out two 3x5 cards. “Here you ladies are. If you have any questions let me know.”

“Can I have some black coffee, please?” Alison didn’t bother to look at the dessert menu. The man nodded and left the table.

“What’s wrong with you today?” Julia’s tone was accusatory as she finished the last of the wine in her glass. “And why haven’t you drunk any of the wine?”

Alison was done with this outing. She had only agreed to it last minute because Julia had begged her to let her make amends for their tiff at their parents’ house, but now all Alison wanted was to leave, finish her afternoon class, and go home to bed.

“I have to get back to campus. My class starts in less than an hour.” Alison dropped her phone in her purse and took her wallet out.

“You’re five minutes from campus. And besides, you just ordered coffee.” Julia didn’t make eye contact with Alison as she read over the menu. “Should I have the chocolate pudding cake or the banana caramel stack?” Alison glared at her sister, a litany of insults streaming through her head.

“Alison? I thought that was you.” Annabel Putnam was standing next to Alison and Julia’s table. She was wearing a flowing navy blue cotton skirt and a tight pale blue t-shirt that accentuated her slim build. Her long black hair hung loose over her shoulders.

“Oh, hi, Annabel. This is my sister Julia. Julia, this is Dr. Annabel Putnam - a colleague.” Alison’s hopes of escape were fading as Julia smiled up at the professor while offering her a seat.

“We were just going to have dessert, but please join us. I love meeting friends of Alison’s.” Sales person Julia had just kicked in.

“Oh, I can’t. I’m meeting someone for a late lunch, and I try to avoid dessert, given the empty calories.” Annabel casually scanned the restaurant for her date.

Alison smirked. Even outside of work, Annabel had a way of jabbing at someone without seeming any the wiser for it. She could see from her sister’s expression that Julia was not impressed. “I’m happy to report I can spare an empty calorie here or there.” Julia’s smile was forced and taut.

Annabel looked down at Julia and smiled. “Good for you.” She then turned her attention to an amused Alison. “Do you have classes this afternoon?”

Alison nodded, noting the frown on her sister’s face out of the corner of her eye. “Yes. Just one, and then I am heading home for a quiet evening in.”

“Have you been out a lot lately?” The woman asked casually.

“I wouldn’t say a lot, but-” Alison wasn’t sure where the conversation was headed and waited for Annabel’s obligatory insult.

“Perhaps with that student of yours, what was her name again?” Just then, the woman looked up and a broad smile spread across her lips. “Excuse me, I see my lunch date.” Not waiting for a response from Julia or Alison, the woman walked toward a blonde woman in her early thirties sitting at a table near the back of the restaurant.

“I hope you two aren’t friends.” Julia whispered as the waiter returned with Alison’s coffee.

“No. Just colleagues.” Alison had a knot in her stomach that had nothing to do with her hangover. She couldn’t imagine why Annabel would have even remembered their brief exchange about Bryce nearly four weeks ago, much less referenced it now.

“She was rude.” Julia handed the waiter her desert menu. “I’ll skip dessert. Can you please bring the check?”

Alison took a sip of her coffee and leaned back in her chair. She hoped Julia hadn’t caught Annabel’s reference to Bryce, and they could forgo a continuation of an already uncomfortable lunch.

“So who’s the student rudeness was referencing?” Julia pulled her Platinum American Express card out of her gray Miu Miu wallet.

“I’m not sure.” In spite of her best efforts, Alison couldn’t hold eye contact with her sister long enough to execute an effective lie.

Julia paused, her hand hovering an inch above the table, the American Express card pinched between her thumb and forefinger. “Do you sometimes wish you could lie better, Ali?”

Nearly spitting her coffee out, Alison wiped at her mouth with the white linen napkin. “What? I mean it; I don’t know what she was talking about.”

“God. Terrible effort, Ali, terrible.” Julia sat back in her chair and crossed her legs. “This explains your lack of interest in my candidates.”

“No, Jules, your candidates are crap, and I would run screaming regardless of my relationship status.” Alison slid the half empty coffee cup toward the center of the table and laid her credit card down next to Julia’s.

“You have a relationship status?” Julia smirked at her younger sister.

“Now who’s rude?” Alison jabbed.

“Suit yourself. God knows I have enough going on without babysitting your love life.” The waiter picked the check and credit cards up as Alison literally bit her tongue.

Several awkward minutes later Julia was signing her credit card receipt and gathering her cell phone and purse. “This was fun.”

Alison couldn’t tell if her sister was being ironic, but was afraid this debacle of a meal might actually constitute a good time in Julia’s mind, and that was the worst part of the entire lunch. “It was nice to see you, Jules. Take care.” Alison leaned across the table and gave the woman a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Absolutely, Ali, and good luck with that student.” Julia pulled her Range Rover keys out of her purse, a faint smile on her face.

Alison took a deep breath. “Lovely, Jules. Bye.” Without looking back, she left her amused sister, and one of the worst lunches of her life, behind.

Chapter 7

Alison had been staring at herself in the rectangle shaped mirror in her bathroom for nearly two minutes. She hated how nervous she was. She was a successful professor at a respected university. Grant you, she hadn’t been on hundreds of dates, but she had managed her fair share over the years.

Now, with the prospect of an evening with Bryce - not even an actual date - she felt like she was twelve again, waiting for Samuel Mercer and his mom to pick her up for the school dance.

Taking her lime green colored toothbrush from the white ceramic jar, Alison picked up the tube of Colgate and squeezed the white paste liberally on the brush’s head. Vigorously brushing along her teeth and gum line, she then stuck her tongue out and brushed back and forth for several seconds.

She turned the tap on, rinsed the toothbrush, and put it back in its holder, before tossing the used string of floss into the metal trashcan next to her bathroom sink. Cupping her hands under the cool water, she brought it to her mouth and rinsed. She thought her brother would be pleased that she had flossed in addition to brushing and made a mental note to call and check in with him the following day.

Looking back in the mirror, Alison managed a weak smile. It’s now or never.

Her blonde hair looked stylishly messy, and she managed to find a suitable outfit on her first try. The evening was casual, so she wore a pair of Ralph Lauren tapered jeans, brown leather flats, and a short sleeve gray t-shirt. She had contemplated a white lace bra and matching panties, but thought better of it, and went with a plain , light blue cotton bra and underwear. No reason to get your hopes up.

Knowing she had delayed as long as possible, and not wanting to be late, Alison grabbed her wallet, keys, and phone from the round wooden table next to the front door. Locking the door behind her, she walked to her car.

Bryce’s street consisted of apartments that at one time had been private residences. The houses had been built on large lots near the southern most part of Alamo Heights and were on average fifty years old. Some were run down, but Bryce lived in one of the newer apartments that had clearly been renovated within the past ten years. In fact, her apartment building was eye-catching, with its fresh white paint, black trim, modern windows, and lighting fixtures.

Alison maneuvered her Honda into a narrow parking space across the street from the duplex. She loathed parallel parking, and luckily, given San Antonio’s penchant for urban sprawl, she had very few occasions in which she had to utilize the underdeveloped skill.

Taking her phone from the center console, Alison felt her stomach twist slightly with nerves. This was the first time she had been to Bryce’s apartment, and she wanted the evening to go smoothly. The relationship wasn’t developing as quickly, and certainly not as smoothly, as Alison had hoped, but any time with the beautiful redhead was time well spent.

Unlocking her door, Alison glanced over her shoulder to make sure no cars were coming up the street before getting out of her car. She then crossed the street, and walked through a narrow breezeway. Alison followed the small brass plaques engraved with a range of apartment numbers.

Arriving at apartment number three, Alison took a steading breath and knocked. A few seconds later Bryce opened the door. She was wearing a pair of slim fit Gap khaki shorts that hit just above her knees, a light blue cap sleeve Ann Taylor blouse that fit her like a glove, and her hair cascaded loosely around her shoulders.

“You made it.” Bryce smiled as she stepped to the side so Alison could walk in.

Alison wondered if the woman ever had a bad hair day. “Drove here like I knew where I was going.” Stepping past Bryce, the familiar citrus and vanilla scent wafted over Alison, and she willed herself not to take a deeper breath.

Bryce shut the door and stood looking awkwardly at Alison. “I - ah - guess a tour is in order, so if you do a slow three sixty, that will about cover it.” The woman made a circular motion with her index finger.

Alison chuckled and turned around. The apartment was a small efficiency with a half wall dividing the living and bedroom area from the narrow, galley kitchen. It was sparsely decorated with a thirty inch flat screen television sitting atop a small oak cabinet, a dark blue Chesterfield style sofa, and a round-end table that matched the television cabinet. She assumed the door to the left of the kitchen was the bathroom.

The floor was a distressed light maple, with coordinated maple trim throughout the space. The walls were smooth and painted light beige. “I like the color, and the floor is gorgeous.”

Bryce walked around Alison and into the kitchen. “The leasing agent called it champagne beige, and evidently, the color in the bathroom is what they call Dresden blue.” The woman shook her head. “Whatever that means.”

Alison crossed the small space and leaned on the half wall. “It means someone in the marketing department was feeling creative that day.”

Bryce nodded. “It wouldn’t occur to me to name paint after a city in Germany.” Opening the cabinet to her right, the woman looked at Alison. “Would you like something to drink before we go out? I have Bushmill or red wine.”

“Considering our last outing - and the fact I don’t want to completely humiliate myself at the bowling alley - I’ll stick with wine.” An embarrassed flush spread across Alison’s cheeks at the memory of her untimely intoxication a few days prior.

Bryce frowned. “It wasn’t a big deal.” She retrieved a cork screw from a nearby drawer.

“It never is to the sober one.” Alison teased as she turned around to more fully inspect the apartment. “Sleeper sofa?”

A faint pop sounded as Bryce removed the cork from a bottle of Excelsior Cabernet Sauvignon. “What?”

Alison looked back at Bryce. “No bed. I assume the sofa folds out?” She wondered why she had chosen to talk about the woman’s bed within five minutes of arriving.

“Yes.” Bryce poured a generous glass of wine and handed it to Alison. “Feel free to have a seat.”

Alison walked to the sofa and sat down. Crossing her legs, she scanned the space. The walls were bare, but in the corner opposite the couch there were over fifty books stacked neatly against the wall and piles of magazines. “Do much reading?” She asked as Bryce joined her on the sofa, a glass of wine in her hand.

“I enjoy a good book.” Tucking her leg under her, she sat on the opposite end of the sofa from Alison.

Getting up, and placing her glass of wine on the short, round oak end table, Alison knelt down next to the stacks of books. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.” Her eyes scanned the small library. “I’m impressed. To Kill a Mockingbird, Gone with the Wind, Catch-22, Dracula, Of Mice and Men. Christ, Bryce, it’s a summer reading list.” She ran her index finger along the spine of each book as she read. “Oh, wait, what’s this? Bridget Jones’ Diary - not on a summer reading list.”

Next to the books was a stack of eclectic magazines. “The Economist, Entertainment Weekly, Popular Science, Wine Spectator, Southern Living.” Alison stopped as her eyes fell on the magazine near the bottom of the pile. “Maxim?” Still on her knees, Alison twisted around to look at an embarrassed Bryce.

“I thought it was a philosophy magazine. You understand, maxim, as in a general truth or rule of conduct.” Rubbing the back of her neck she kept her eyes averted. “Sadly scantily clad women are not a general rule of conduct.”

Alison laughed. “No, but they may constitute a general truth.” Bryce looked up and smiled, clearly pleased with their banter. “Do you have a favorite book?”

Shrugging, Bryce set her wine glass on the floor next to the sofa, walked over to Alison, and crouched down next to her. “The Picture of Dorian Gray.”

The two women’s eyes met, and Alison was nearly overwhelmed with the urge to kiss the beautiful redhead. Swallowing the tightness in her throat, she managed to refocus her attention back to the conversation at hand. “Why?”

Bryce was silent for several seconds, her eyes fixed on Alison. “His beauty is a mask, a lie. He’s rotten and tainted inside from years of sin.”

Alison was surprised by how adamant Bryce sounded. “Sin? I’m surprised you used that word.”

Bryce reached for the book, removing it from under a copy of A Room with a View. “I just mean the selfishness, the unchecked lust and greed.” Standing up, the woman looked down at Alison. “I don’t mean to assign a moral value to his actions, but he clearly thought only of himself and that hurt the people around him.”

Alison stood and faced Bryce, who was looking intently at the book in her hand. “There wasn’t a right or wrong answer. I was curious, that’s all.”

Bryce looked up, her brow furrowed, and Alison waited, thinking the woman was going to speak. But after a few awkward moments, Bryce laid the book back on the stack and walked to the sofa. “I’ve managed to get through a few movies since we first met.” Pointing to the cabinet the television sat on, Bryce picked up her glass of wine as she sat on the sofa. “They’re in there.”

Amazed at her friend’s ability to change conversation topics at will, Alison scooted on her knees the few feet to the cabinet. “A few movies?” The two shelves inside the cabinet were lined with DVDs, barely leaving room for the DVD player itself.

“I bought some I haven’t had a chance to watch yet.” Bryce took a drink of her wine.

“Cool Hand Luke? Did you get this because of my referencing it the other day?” Alison pulled the DVD out and examined the case.

“Yes.” Bryce said simply.

Alison pushed herself up to her feet, and carrying the DVD, walked back to the couch. “I should think of other ways to use that power.”

Bryce’s eyes narrowed. “What power?”

Sitting down next to the woman, Alison grinned. “The power of suggestion.” The nearness of Bryce, and the coziness of the space, made Alison not want to leave the apartment. She had a rush of contentment at the idea of simply sitting with the woman and talking or watching a movie. She handed the DVD to an amused Bryce. “Would you be disappointed if we stayed in and watched a movie instead of going out?”

Bryce frowned. “You want to skip the bowling?”

Alison shrugged. “I kinda suck at it, and hanging here with you would be far less damaging to my ego than humiliating myself in public.”

“But it’s league night.” Bryce looked very serious, and then a gradual smile began to form on her full lips.

Alison teasingly nudged her shoulder. “I’ll pass on the pitchers of beer and overweight, middle aged guys in ill-fitting bowling shirts.”

Bryce laughed and reached for the DVD. Their fingers touched as Bryce took the DVD case from Alison, who was reminded how cool the woman’s hands were, and how smooth they had felt the few times Bryce and she had touched. Bryce got up and inserted the DVD, after pressing several buttons on the remote. Alison was thrilled when Bryce sat back down next to her and not at the opposite end of the sofa.

“Would you like some popcorn?” Bryce’s eyes were focused on the screen as she spoke.

“Not now. Maybe later.” Alison settled in, resting her glass of wine on her knee.

As much as Alison enjoyed most anything Paul Newman was in, particularly a young Paul Newman, she was having difficulty focusing on the film. She wondered if she had miscalculated the out-and-about option as Bryce’s leg was just a few inches from hers, and the tension in her chest from wanting to touch the woman to her left was growing uncomfortable.

In contrast to Alison’s nervousness, Bryce seemed engrossed in the film as she casually sipped from her wine. This whole thing is entirely in my head. Tragic and desperate.

“Are you not enjoying the movie? Should we have gone bowling after all?” Bryce interrupted Alison’s mini pity party.

Realizing she must have been sitting there with a scowl on her face, Alison forced a smile. “I’m enjoying it.”

Bryce frowned and shifted so she was facing Alison on the couch. “You look unhappy. Have I done - or more than likely - not done something?”

Alison couldn’t help but grin at Bryce’s candor. “You’re fine.”

Bryce looked suspiciously at Alison as she put her wine down. “I don’t believe you.”

Alison’s eyes widened. She was fine with candor, but Bryce’s tone verged on accusatory. She could return the favor or actually tell the woman the truth. “Pause the film, please.”

Bryce reached for the remote to her left and hit the pause button. Putting the remote down, she turned her full attention to the anxious blonde next to her. “What’s wrong?”

Chewing nervously on the inside of her cheek, Alison took a deep breath. “I had really thought I was a better person than this. That I could be friends with you even though I’m really attracted to you.” Disappointment slapped Alison in the face as she watched Bryce visibly tense. Holding her hand up in front of her, Alison wanted to reassure the woman. “It’s fine. I’m not going to act the fool, but - I can’t be your friend. It doesn’t seem honest.”

Standing up, Alison walked to the kitchen and set her empty wine glass in the sink. She was angry with herself that she wasn’t able to strike a balance with Bryce between what she felt and what the redhead wanted. She needed to be alone to swim in the self-loathing. “I’m going to head out. Thank you for the wine.” Her frustration and embarrassment were pushing tears to the back of her eyes that she was trying desperately to abate. Bryce sitting silent and motionless on the sofa wasn’t helping Alison’s anxiety. “Right - so, I’ll see you around.”

She was halfway to the door before Bryce stood up and walked around the sofa. Grabbing Alison’s hand, the woman turned her around so the two were facing each other. “I - I don’t want you to go.” Bryce’s voice was low, and her cool hand wrapped firmly around Alison’s. Before she could respond, Bryce had pulled her into a full on hug, her arms wrapping tightly around Alison’s waist and her face buried in the side of the stunned woman’s neck.

Once the initial shock of having Bryce’s body pressed to hers wore off, Alison managed to bring her arms up and wrap them around the woman’s shoulders. The coolness of Bryce’s skin was evident through her thin blouse, as was her intoxicating scent.

Bryce leaned back so she and Alison’s lips were inches apart. Her eyes were a vivid green as she looked intently at Alison. “Stay - please.”

Bringing her hand up to the smoothness of Bryce’s cheek, Alison closed the remaining space between them and kissed the woman. Tentative at first, Bryce tensed under Alison’s touch; but seconds later, and to Alison’s delight, Bryce’s hand cupped the back of her neck, and the woman intensified the kiss.

At the first tentative touch of Bryce’s tongue to hers, a quiet moan escaped Alison. Her head was spinning as the sound of her drumming heart pulsed in her ears. Then it stopped.

Nearly falling forward as Bryce took a sudden step away from her, Alison’s eyes fluttered open. “What’s - what’s wrong?”

Bryce turned her back to the confused woman, her shoulders tense. “Nothing. That - that was amazing. I just can’t go so fast.”

Alison thought she must be a complete harlot, because she felt like they were moving at a snail’s pace. She wanted Bryce naked and under her on the sofa ten minutes ago. “Okay. We can take things slow.” She closed the space between her and Bryce, putting her hand on the beautiful woman’s surprisingly firm shoulder.

After a few seconds, Bryce turned around. “Thank you.” She reached for Alison’s hand and pulled the woman to her. “Everything you said about being attracted to me, I feel the same way about you.”

Unsure what the issue was if they both wanted to take the relationship to the next level, Alison suppressed the urge to question Bryce. Clearly, she would share whatever was causing her to hesitate in her own time, as she had eventually talked about other aspects of their relationship.

“I can be incredibly patient.” Alison smiled as she tucked a loose strand of Bryce’s auburn hair behind her ear.

Bryce cocked her head to the side and pursed her lips. “That word doesn’t come to mind when I think of you.”

Alison was poised to argue her point, but thought better of it, knowing Bryce was right. “Thanks. What words do come to mind when you think of me?” She had used her most flirtatious tone and could tell from the grin on Bryce’s face it had worked.

Looking up at the ceiling, Bryce took her lower lip between her teeth. “Let me see. Funny, beautiful, then there’s smart, and kind - and - ”

Alison’s kiss cut Bryce’s litany of compliments off. In spite of the pleasure and warmth Bryce’s kiss sent shooting through her body, Alison had heard the woman’s concerns about how quickly she wanted to develop the physical aspect of their relationship, and because of that, Alison did one of the hardest things she had ever had to do.

Pulling back from Bryce, she took a deep breath. “I’m going to go while I can still exercise free will.” She ran her thumb across Bryce’s full bottom lip. “Can we have dinner tomorrow night?”

Bryce nodded, her eyes fixed on Alison’s lips. “Yes.”

Forcing her feet to move, Alison took a step back toward the door. “I’ll text you details.”

Nodding, Bryce reached around Alison and opened the door. “We didn’t finish the movie, but I’m not complaining.” The woman smiled broadly before leaning in and giving Alison a quick kiss on the lips.

Alison knew she was grinning like a fool, but couldn’t help herself. She hadn’t expected the evening to take the turn it had, but she was thrilled that Bryce and she were finally on the same page about their relationship - even if they hadn’t agreed on how quickly they wanted to turn to the next page.

“I’ll see you later.” Alison hugged Bryce, feeling she would never get tired of being close to the beautiful woman.

Reluctantly turning away, Alison walked back toward her car. Sliding into the driver’s seat she started the engine. After nearly five minutes of contemplation and judging herself for being sappy, she decided she needed one last kiss to tide her over. As she opened the car door, she heard several loud women’s voices echoing from the apartment complex breezeway across the street.

Unable to understand what the women were saying, Alison hesitated. She had to go through the walkway to get back to Bryce’s apartment at the back of the complex, but the last thing she wanted was to be in the middle of a domestic altercation. Deciding to close the door, crack her window, and wait for the women to disperse, Alison leaned back in the driver’s seat and looked at her phone, thinking she would call Bryce instead. The battery icon was red and flipping the lid on the center console’s storage drawer, she remembered she had left her car charger in her mailbag. Shit.

“Do you have her or not?” A woman’s high pitched voice caused Alison to jump and turn her attention back to the apartment building. To her horror, she saw two women carrying an unconscious Bryce by the shoulders and feet.

Alison’s first instinct was to lunge from the car and demand to know what was going on. Her pragmatism kicked in as a third woman wearing sunglasses and an unseasonably warm trench coat, her head wrapped in a black scarf, emerged from the walkway, and Alison took stock of how outnumbered she was. To her dismay, Alison recognized one of Bryce’s assailants.  The woman holding her feet was Christine from the parking garage and locker room.

None of what she was seeing made any sense to her, but she had to do something or risk Bryce becoming a kidnapping statistic. Picking up her phone, Alison dialed 9-1-1 as the three women violently flung Bryce into the trunk of a black Lincoln Town Car. Alison gripped the steering wheel as shock and anger coursed through her.

“San Antonio 9-1-1. What’s your emergency?” The operator’s voice had a nasal quality that tickled Alison’s ear when she spoke.

“My name is Alison Bailey. I’m at 67 Cadence Street, and I am witnessing a kidnapping.” She took slow steady breaths, but her heart rate was ramping up as she watched the three women get in the car. She didn’t want them to leave with Bryce, but she didn’t have a way to stop them. Squinting, she tried to make out the car’s license plate, but it was too dark, and the plate wasn’t illuminated.

“Hello? Hello?” Alison pulled the phone away from her ear to find it had discharged. Alison felt heat and panic building at the base of her neck as the car pulled away. Alison put her car in drive and, leaving her lights off, slowly pulled out of the parking space. Performing a U-turn, she waited until the car took a right onto Broadway before she turned her headlights on.

Following the car as it turned off Broadway and onto Hildebrand, Alison was careful to maintain a safe distance to avoid being detected. Realizing she was still clutching the useless phone in her right hand, she dropped it onto the passenger seat and resigned herself to continue the pursuit. At least she would know where they had taken Bryce and could report the location to the police.

They wound their way onto Highway 281 and drove north for nearly an hour. Deep into the Texas Hill Country, Alison had only a vague sense of where they were as the car turned off the main road and onto a two lane flat top.

There was no other traffic on the road, so Alison had no choice but to allow the Town Car to pull nearly a half mile ahead of her for fear they would see her. She slowed at every side road, and looked for tail lights or plumes of dust.

Ten miles from the main road, Alison slammed on her breaks and backed up. A thin cloud of dust on a narrow dirt road to her right told her the three women had turned off the flat top.

Flipping her headlights off, and with only the illumination of her parking lights, Alison drove slowly down the deserted road. She heard branches scraping along the side of her car from the narrow Mesquite scrub and cactus lining the road. The darkness was broken by a faint light over the next ridge. Alison pulled her car off the road and behind several low-lying mesquite trees. Pulling the handbrake, she quietly got out. Her leather flats made a faint crunching sound on the pebbled ground as she gently pushed her car door shut. Hitting the trunk release on her remote, Alison slid the spare tire cover off and popped the metal rod used to raise and lower the jack out of its plastic clip.

Holding the rod firmly in her right hand, Alison realized her palms were sweating. Should I be doing this? She never considered herself a hero. The closest she ever came to a self-defense class was a Krav Maga course she took while finishing her doctorate. After two sessions, she pulled a tendon in her hip and had to forgo the remaining five sessions.

You have to do this. You care for Bryce and god only knows what they intend to do with her. Alison took a deep breath. The idea of Bryce being hurt, or worse, made her stomach cramp with fear. Just make sure this is their last stop, and then get your ass to a phone and report it. With a plan in place that didn’t involve the unrealistic expectation of Alison fending off three attackers, she made her way up the road.

With the exception of the faint glow coming from the other side of the hill, the night was pitch black. Her attention focused solely on the task ahead, Alison didn’t notice the quarter moon and kaleidoscope of stars overhead, their brilliance no longer cloaked by the city lights. She did notice the stillness of the country being broken repeatedly by her quick, nervous breathing.

Crouching behind a low shrub, Alison couldn’t make sense of what she was seeing. The three women stood in the glow of the Town Car’s headlights, the spans behind them cloaked in darkness. Christine and the two other women had tied Bryce’s hands and feet together with some sort of thin metal cord. Attached to the redhead’s hands with another cord was a large black metal box. What the hell are they doing?

The women’s voices were muffled by the distance. The apparent leader of the group, the woman dressed in the black trench coat with her face concealed by a black scarf, was pointing toward a slight rise ten feet to her right. Alison narrowed her eyes, trying to see what the woman was pointing at, but it was too dark.

Christine and the third woman picked Bryce’s limp body off the ground. The black haired woman took a handful of Bryce’s hair and twisted the woman’s head back. Leaning in, she whispered something to Bryce, and releasing her hair, nodded to the other two women.

Alison watched. Her blood ran cold with fear at Bryce’s stillness. She was clearly unconscious or so weak she was unable to respond. Either way, Alison fought the urge to charge forward and free her immediately.

Alison was frantically trying to think of her next move, when a loud splash broke the stillness of the night. Alison gasped, realizing the two women had flung Bryce into a body of water beyond the rise. The three women then stood in a line, holding hands, and staring into the night.

Come on! Alison felt panic prickling up the back of her neck, knowing the longer the women lingered, the longer her friend stayed under water.

After nearly a minute, the women walked back to the car. Backing up, the brake lights cast the road in a red hue. Fearing she would be discovered, Alison lay flat on her stomach. A wave of relief washed over her as she watched the car pull forward and leave the scene.

Dropping the metal rod, Alison bolted from the underbrush and charged into the darkness at a full run. Her eyes adjusting to the shadows and she skidded to a stop at the top of the rise. With only the muted light of the moon to guide her, Alison slid down an embankment and stood at the edge of a large, lifeless, black lake.

Tears streamed down Alison’s face as she kicked her leather flats to the side, her feet sinking into the soft, cool mud of the shore. Slipping out of her jeans for fear they would weigh her down, the woman took a deep breath and dove into the murky blackness.

The water was warmer than Alison had expected, but absolute darkness surrounded her. Kicking with her legs, powerful from years of swimming, she quickly descended into the void. By Alison’s estimate she had swam down nearly fifteen feet when her hand sank into a wet, cold, slimy substance. She had hit the soft, muddy bottom of the lake.

Alison’s lungs began a slow burn as she desperately grasped at the darkness. Unable to use the bottom of the lake as leverage to propel her back to the surface, Alison began long, powerful kicks with her legs while fully extending her arms as if reaching for the top of the water.

Breaking the surface of the lake, Alison took in three deep breaths. Holding the last one, she dove back under. Hope of finding Bryce in the vast darkness began to fade. Alison forced her lungs and body beyond their usual pain threshold, refusing to surface until she found her friend.

But feeling the blackness of the lake begin to strangle her, Alison had no choice but to return to the surface or risk joining Bryce. Kicking her right leg to the side so she could begin her ascent, she felt her foot strike something hard. Alison bent at the waist and reached towards the object. The only sound she could hear was the pounding of her heart as she suddenly grasped a handful of long hair.

A burst of energy surged through her, giving her additional endurance. Alison grabbed what she thought must be the collar of Bryce’s blouse and tried to pull the woman up. The fabric of the shirt tore and Alison lost her grip. She quickly propelled herself up; breaking the surface of the lake, she gasped at the air.

Her head throbbed and her stomach cramped. Her body felt heavy and weak as she struggled to tread water. Alone in the dark, staring up at the fullness of the night sky, her gasping the only sound for miles, her mind latched onto the oddest memory. If you are going through hell, keep going. The Winston Churchill quote had been one of her high school swim coach’s favorite. He would yell it from the side of the pool just at that moment when Alison thought she couldn’t take another stroke.

Directly below her, in the silent, pitch black water, Bryce needed her. Forcing her heavy legs to kick, Alison took as deep a breath as she could and dove under the water for what she hoped was her last time.

Relief washed over her like a reassuring embrace as she found Bryce within seconds. Surmising the metal box was not only anchoring Bryce to the bottom of the abyss, but was stopping Alison from being able to pull the woman to the surface, she felt along Bryce’s shoulders and down her arms. She found the thin metal cord that was restraining the woman’s hands and attaching her to the box.

With surprising ease, Alison snapped the cord, freeing Bryce’s hands and liberating her from the makeshift anchor. Wasting no time, Alison wrapped her arm around Bryce’s chest and began to kick furiously upward.

Grabbing the air in long gulps once she surfaced, Alison swam the ten feet to the shore with Bryce in tow. The redhead was limp and her body cold as Alison pulled her onto the embankment.

Wiping water from her face, Alison turned her attention to Bryce, who lay on her side, motionless, next to her. The woman’s legs were still submerged in the water, but her hands were free of the metal cord and the merciless metal box still lay at the bottom of the lake.

Turning Bryce on her back, Alison pushed the woman’s long, wet, auburn locks off her face. A loud gasp escaped Alison, and she covered her mouth in shock. Bryce’s usual paleness had taken on a faint blue hue and the veins along her neck and jaw line protruded, giving the appearance of a chaotic spider web.

The most shocking part was the long straw-like metal rod stuck deep in the side of Bryce’s neck. Blood dripped from the exposed end of the shaft. Reaching across Bryce, Alison took the protrusion between her thumb and forefinger, but before she could extract the implement, a sharp burning sensation shot up from her wrist and along her arm

Unable to stifle a scream, Alison tried to recoil away from the source of pain, only to realize she couldn’t move. Her eyes focused in the darkness and her body tensed with pain and fear as she saw Bryce’s mouth clamped down on her wrist, the muscles in her jaw bulging and flexing. The woman’s eyes flew open; their usual green was now an eerie iridescent green, the whites a vivid red.

Alison’s head began to spin, and she felt an aching cold creeping up her arm and into her chest. Just as quickly as it had started, the pain stopped. Alison’s eyes fluttered open, and she looked at Bryce. Her eyes shone in the darkness and nearly inch long incisors, covered in Alison’s blood, protruded from her mouth.

“Run.” A low, guttural growl came from deep in Bryce’s chest. Alison couldn’t understand what was happening, but her instinct for self-preservation kicked in, and she began to crawl backwards away from the creature that lay in front of her.

In a single, fluid motion, Bryce went from lying flat on her back to standing rigid. She towered over Alison, her ankles still bound. Turning her head slowly toward the terrified woman next to her, Bryce’s neck popped and snapped as she tilted her gaze skyward, her lips parted by her protruding incisors.

“Run, Alison.” The use of her name brought Alison back from the brink. She scrambled up the embankment. On dry, solid ground she found her footing and began running back toward her car. She didn’t remember grabbing her jeans, but found her car keys in the front pocket as she tumbled over the hood of the Honda and landed on her back near the driver’s door.

Stunned, the air knocked out of her lungs, it took Alison several seconds to right herself and get in the car. Covered in mud and blood, she started the car and, though she would have no memory of it, executed a three point turn on the narrow dirt road and sped off into the darkness, having begun as the rescuer and finishing as the victim.

***

“That will be a hundred and twenty two dollars, Ms. Bailey.” The young man at the front desk of the Hampton Inn smiled broadly has he looked at Alison.

Too scared to go home, and not wanting to involve any of her friends or family in something she didn’t fully understand herself, she stood in the hotel lobby in the pair of black sweat pants, a matching hoody, and her purple shower flip-flops she had in the gym bag in her back seat.

“Thank you.” She handed the man her credit card and leaned on the elevated desk, her legs feeling like jelly under her.

Taking the room key from the clerk, she made her way down the winding hallway of the hotel to the elevator. Relieved to see the elevator wouldn’t work without a room key being swiped, she leaned against the stainless steel wall and waited as she ascended to the fourth floor.

The room was cloaked in darkness and the air was stale. Alison felt along the wall and flipped the light switch on. The queen size bed took up most of the space, leaving just enough room for two nightstands and a dresser/desk combination. Alison flipped the large, wall mounted, flat screen television on, needing the comfort of background noise.

The heavy, brown curtains were already pulled closed, and Alison checked and re-checked the deadbolt on the door before taking her clothes off. The harsh fluorescent lights of the bathroom caused Alison to squint before her image came into focus in the large vanity mirror.

Tears pooled in her eyes as she took stock of the stranger in the mirror. Her short blonde hair was matted to her head with dirt and god only knew what other debris. Her face was streaked with mud and her chest and legs were covered in gashes and scratches from when she had run back to her car in nothing but a t-shirt and her underwear.

A sob escaped Alison when she looked down at her right forearm. Two angry, red bite marks sat in the middle of swollen, enflamed skin. The underside of her arm was cut, bruised, and swollen from where Bryce’s bottom teeth had sunk into her arm. Examining the wound more closely, Alison was surprised it wasn’t worse given the horrific pain when the bite occurred.

Should I call the police? Should I call Ash? This was the usual reaction to getting attacked, but this hadn’t been a usual attack. Bryce’s face and voice had been something akin to a monster’s, and Alison didn’t even know what she would tell the police.

Alison’s shoulders ached as she turned the shower on and stepped under the jet of water. Watching as the brownish water ran down the drain, she didn’t know what she should do. Sleep on it.

Just thinking about sleep caused Alison’s eyes to close. The shock and trauma of earlier had left her exhausted and barely able to think straight. Drying off, she hung the damp towel on the hook on the back of the bathroom door and walked into the room.

Turning the bed back, she laid down on the coarse, over bleached sheets and pulled the beige, polyester-blend blanket up to her chin. Closing her eyes, she could see Bryce’s face, angry, rage filled. But she stopped. She didn’t kill me. That was the first time Alison had acknowledged her death had been a very real possibility. Her mind raced, and she felt the gradual realization of the truth - no matter how horrific and unbelievable - creeping into the corners of her mind. Bryce is a vampire.

Chapter 8

Bryce’s fingers were cold and stiff as she frantically tried to untie the thin silver cord wrapped around her ankles. Luckily the restraint had been loosened by the struggling, and she managed to slip free of the cord.

The sweet, metallic taste of Alison’s blood tickled the back of her throat, and she was grateful the cord had held until the woman’s heartbeat had faded into the darkness; otherwise, Bryce knew she would have killed her.

Imagining Alison dead by her hand brought bloodstained tears to Bryce’s eyes. She released the cord and took several deep breaths, trying to steady her nerves. She hadn’t had human blood in nearly a decade and was feeling lightheaded from the strength just the small amount of Alison’s had given her.

Focusing her attention back on the silver cord, Bryce managed to untie the loose knot and free her ankles. She got to her knees, but the momentary surge of energy the human blood had afforded her was quickly fading, and her legs felt stiff and unstable.

A twisting, burning pain shot through her neck. Reaching up, Bryce ran her fingers along the length of a thin silver rod protruding from the left side of her neck. Clenching her jaw, a wet, tearing sound echoed through her head as she ripped the rod out of her neck.

Stumbling to her feet, Bryce closed her eyes and listened carefully. To her dismay, the draining of so much of her blood had left her senses impaired, and the heartbeats of nearby wildlife she had hoped to hear were absent.

Scanning the darkness, Bryce began breathing deeply through her nose. Within seconds she caught the scent of an animal. Unable to see or hear the animal, she walked slowly toward the smell she guessed was a hundred yards to the west. The burning in the back of her throat roared into a full on fire and spread through her chest and stomach.

Doubling over, the weakened vampire clutched her stomach as a series of cramps grabbed at her midsection. Grinding her teeth in pain as her incisors pushed past her top lip, Bryce thought she might vomit. Get up. You’re not going to come to an end in the middle of nowhere, alone in the dark. Get up!

Forcing all her concentration to her legs, she got back on her feet and walked toward the animal, having no idea what she was going to do once she found the beast as she was far too weak to hunt. Knowing she would need whatever speed she had left once she found the animal, she paced herself, walking slowly through the sparsely wooded wilderness.

A low rustling came from Bryce’s left. She crouched onto her haunches, squinting her eyes to see through the murkiness of the night; the shape of a small four point buck came into focus. Knowing she only had enough strength for a single burst of speed, Bryce channeled all of her energy into her legs and a split second later bounded across the twenty yards between her and the deer in three powerful strides.

Tackling the startled animal to the ground, Bryce felt her shoulder pop and then dislocate from the impact. Sinking her teeth into the deer’s neck, a low growl escaped the vampire as the thick, chalky, mineral tasting blood gushed into her mouth. Sucking the blood down in large gulps, Bryce felt her shoulder align and pop back into the socket.

Her heightened sight and hearing began to return as she drank from the now dying animal. Still clutching the deer to her, Bryce stood and, hearing the buck’s heart slow, dropped the limp carcass to the ground. Wiping at her mouth, she lapped up the last of the blood. The world was alive around her again, and she could hear twenty different heartbeats, some faster than others, sounding from the darkness.

Sprinting into the distance, Bryce focused on one of the slower heartbeats, knowing that would be a larger mammal. She was still starving.

***

“You look like shit, Bryce. What the hell happened?” An ornate wooden door opened as Bryce approached the front entryway of a large stone house surrounded by elaborate xeriscaping. A woman dressed in a pair of brown slacks and an olive colored three quarter length sleeve blouse stood to greet her. Her pale skin contrasted with her black eyes and long black hair.

“Thanks, Rayven.” Bryce caught sight of her reflection in the large, brass framed wall mirror to her right as she entered the house. Rayven was right. Her hair and face were matted and streaked with dirt and blood. Her t-shirt was nothing more than a torn and tattered rag draped over her shoulders, and her jeans, still damp from her unwelcome swim several hours earlier, were frayed and torn in too many places to count.

Bryce stood barefoot on red terracotta tile, her feet encrusted with mud, leaves, and debris. The tile’s smoothness was a welcome change from the coarse, rocky terrain she had been traversing the better part of the night. “Is she here?”

“I’m here, and Christ, you reek.” A woman in her mid-thirties with long black hair that resembled strands of silk walked into the room. She was wearing a long, gray, cotton pencil skirt that stopped just above her bare feet and accentuated her perfectly proportioned hips and legs. The blue-green, spaghetti strap bikini top she wore left little to the imagination and enhanced her cobalt blue eyes.

“I got that, Coleen. Thanks.” Bryce was relieved to see her friend and fought the urge to hug her.

“Are you injured?” Coleen took Bryce’s hand and cringed as she examined her dirt encrusted nails. “What happened? You smell of human blood, animal blood, and mildew.” Coleen covered her nose.

“Can I get a shower, and then we can talk?” Bryce suggested.

Coleen looked past Bryce to Rayven. “Can you please get her set up in one of the guest rooms?”

Rayven nodded. “Come on, we might have enough soap.”

Bryce followed Rayven through a series of ornately decorate halls. Coleen was nearly three thousand years old and had accumulated paintings, sculptures, and furniture from numerous eras, all seamlessly integrated into the vampire’s large Hill Country home.

“I’ll get you some clothes; otherwise, everything you need is in the bathroom.” Rayven stood in the doorway of the large bedroom. A king size mahogany four poster bed was positioned in the middle of the room, with large Oriental rugs surrounding it.

“Thanks.” Bryce walked past the woman and into the bathroom. Closing the door behind her, she took a deep breath. The scent of musk and patchouli filled her senses, along with the smell of stagnant water. Peeling her wet clothes off, Bryce tossed them in the corner of the bathroom so they could be thrown away later.

The walk-in tile shower was massive, with three shower heads and a large glass door. Turning all of the heads on full blast and the water as hot as it would go, Bryce stepped into the scalding jets. Watching as the brownish water ran down the drain, she didn’t know what she should do. She had nearly killed a woman she cared very much for, and worse, put her life at further risk, now that she clearly knew the truth about what Bryce was.

Bryce knew once she told Coleen everything, her friend would want to intervene and either have Alison killed, or insist she be turned to ensure their secrets were kept. Neither option was viable for Bryce. She cared too much for Alison to wish an eternity of bloodlust and lies on her, and the idea of a world without the thoughtful professor brought blood-tinged tears to Bryce’s eyes. On the other hand, she badly needed Coleen’s help.

Turning the shower off, the redheaded vampire reached for a plush beige bath towel and wrapped it around her narrow frame before stepping out of the shower. Steam billowed into the bedroom as Bryce opened the bathroom door and came face-to-face with Coleen.

“Now that you don’t smell like a swamp, care to enlighten me as to what the hell is going on?” The tall dark haired woman crossed the room and sat down in a brown leather chair.

Bryce sighed, dropped the towel to the floor and slipped into the dark blue jeans and navy sweater Rayven had left on the bed. Tying her damp hair back in a knot, she sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m loathe to tell you for fear of what you might do.”

Coleen leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. “Well, now you have to tell me.”

“I’ve met someone.” Bryce started with what she felt was the most important part of the story.

Coleen’s eyes narrowed, and she ran her tongue quickly over her lower lip. “Let me venture a guess. Human?”

Bryce didn’t answer, and her silence spoke volumes. Coleen huffed and pushed herself up out of the chair. “This is getting ridiculous with you people.”

Bryce cocked her head to the side. “Sorry?”

Coleen crossed her arms over her chest. “In the past year, I’ve had this conversation with two of your counterparts and without exception, things have deteriorated quickly afterward.”

“There’s something else.” Bryce picked nervously at the burgundy silk bedspread.

“Naturally.” Coleen sat down on the arm of the chair.

“When I was first turned, I made a very powerful enemy and she’s found me.” Bryce swallowed the lump in her throat. “She’s what happened to me.”

A concerned expression shot across Coleen’s face. Her perfect features distorted into a frown. “A vampire?”

Bryce shook her head. “Worse.” Coleen didn’t speak, her expression going flat. Summoning her courage, Bryce continued. “A witch. Specifically, a Necromancer.”

Coleen’s eyes flashed a brilliant blue as she stood. “You’ve crossed a Necromancer?”

Bryce had known Coleen for nearly forty years, and she had never - until that moment - seen even a hint of fear on the woman’s face. “Yes, and she’s formed a coven of three.”

“Jesus Christ, Bryce, when you piss someone off, you do it right.” Coleen turned and began pacing. “How old is she?”

“I would guess around three hundred and seventy years old.” Bryce knew the older the witch the more powerful she was.

“I’ve dealt with older, but not by much.” Coleen turned to face Bryce. “You know the danger? You know the history?”

Bryce shook her head. “I know her and I’s history, but I -”

Coleen laughed. “You think this is entirely about you? Her kind and ours have been at odds for millennia. The zealots in our ranks, hungry for power and knowing witches are our only true threats, set out to exterminate them.” The black-haired vampire looked pensively at the floor as she spoke. “Entire families - covens - were murdered. The Inquisition, the Salem witch trials - all vampires hunting and ending entire covens.”

“I understand the covens, but why kill families?” Bryce had hoped Coleen would console and advise her, not add to her dread.

“Because a witch’s ability is inherited. Passed down from parent to child. The witch’s talents are often hybrids or variations of their parents’ and grandparents’.” Coleen’s eyes now glowed an eerie iridescent blue as she paced. “There’s incestuous relationships to ensure the bloodlines are preserved.” Stopping, she looked directly at Bryce. “What did you do to this woman?”

“It’s silly, really; I mean, given everything that’s happened since, it's silly that she should hold onto this.” Bryce frowned as she remembered. “It’s not like we were in love, it was just physical.”

Coleen shook her head suspiciously. “The truth now. No witch puts centuries into the hunt over a broken heart.”

Bryce slid off the bed and wrapped her long fingers around the bedpost, her back to Coleen. “I outed her - and her coven at the time - to my maker, and I killed the witch’s child.” A quiet gasp escaped Coleen and Bryce turned to face the woman.

“You committed the worst sin a witch could contemplate. You ended her bloodline.” Coleen stood still, her body ridged, her voice low.

Bryce’s brow furrowed. “She ended my maker. Left me fumbling around in the dark for nearly a century. I would think that made us even.”

Coleen laughed. “Hardly, given her kind’s natural disdain for us. Whatever she may have felt for you - once you became vampire - you were literally and figuratively dead to her.” Coleen took several steps toward Bryce and laid her cool hand on the woman’s shoulder. “I won’t bullshit you, my friend. This is very bad.”

Bryce chewed nervously on the inside of her lower lip. “How bad?”

Coleen took a deep breath. “There have been three killings on the south side of the city. Until just a few days ago, I hadn’t given them much thought, but considering recent details I’ve received, the three bodies were vampires.”

Bryce frowned. “Vampires? How?”

Coleen sighed. “Isn’t it obvious? Your witch and her coven have been hunting.”

“Who told you this?” Bryce didn’t know that it mattered, but she felt somehow responsible and needed to know.

Coleen looked down, and without making eye contact with Bryce, turned toward the door. “It doesn’t matter.”

Bryce’s indifference toward the details vanished with Coleen’s secretiveness, and she walked after the woman. “Then it shouldn’t be an issue for you to tell me.”

Spinning around to face Bryce, Coleen looked intently at the woman as if sizing her up. “Emma.”

Bryce’s eyes widened, and she took a step back. “She’s here?”

Nodding, Coleen shrugged. “I didn’t think you were ready.”

A spark of vivid green shot across Bryce’s eyes. “That’s not your decision.”

Coleen rolled her eyes. “And yet I made it.”

“You know what I’ve been doing. You know how important it is that I - I make things right.” Bryce’s voice verged on a growl, and she struggled not to lunge at the woman across from her.

“I know you’re on this whole self-discovery, twelve-step thing. I support you. I really do, but Emma - she’s a different matter.” The woman opened the bedroom door. “But since the cat is out of the bag so to speak, why don’t you pay her a visit.” Looking down, Coleen smirked. “I would love to see the look on Ash’s face when you pop up.”

Bryce’s eyes narrowed. “Is this a game to you, then?”

After a few seconds, Coleen looked directly at Bryce. “Everything is a game. Just because you’ve lost the stomach for the adult version, doesn’t mean we all have. And I assure you, your witch will be a fierce competitor.”

Turning her back to Bryce, Coleen took a step toward the door, and then hesitated. Without looking back, she spoke. “I encourage you to find that monster you’ve spent the better part of forty years reining in, and be prepared to take it for a spin.” Without another word, the woman left Bryce standing in stunned silence, her choices growing more difficult by the second.

***

Bryce stood outside a large, two story brick house, a crumpled piece of paper with Emma’s address clutched in her hand. She nervously clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, willing herself to press the pewter doorbell. Though nearly a hundred and fifty years had passed since she had seen Emma Atman, the night she viciously attacked and nearly killed the blonde woman was still vivid in Bryce’s memory.

That night had stood out in a barrage of carnage filled nights because Bryce had also nearly died in the cold, dark mountains of West Virginia. Unbeknownst to Bryce, Emma had a protector. Another vampire named Lewis had been shadowing the woman and had nearly taken Bryce’s head off in her defense.

She didn’t even know Emma’s name until she and Coleen’s paths had crossed in Vietnam over a hundred years later. Even then, the older vampire had been vague, almost protective of Emma. Bryce recalled she had been more comfortable talking about Lewis, and his whereabouts, then the beautiful blonde’s.

Now, moments away from coming face-to-face with a woman who was involuntarily turned because of Bryce’s viciousness, the rage and savagery of who she had been came flooding back.  Disgust swelled in her chest, as it had so many times over the years. She wished the disgust immediately lessened the desire to hunt, kill, and feed, but her nature would not allow it.

Bryce knew the desire would never completely leave her; she could hit the ground because of it - a proverbial bottom - and she would simply go right through it. Her throat and blood was burning with hunger as it had the other night with Alison. She had no control over her desires, only responsibility for her actions and attitudes.

Finally, Bryce pressed the pewter button and a series of chimes came from inside the house. Then the strangest sound made its way to the vampire’s ears. A heartbeat that was fluttering so rapidly, Bryce knew it wasn’t human and certainly not vampire. She lives with a shifter.

The door opened and the scent of burnt leaves mixed with an earthy musk washed over Bryce. She took a step back. She had not been around a shifter in decades, and this one in particular smelled delicious.

“Can I help you?” The tall, dark haired woman smiled at Bryce. She was wearing boot cut gray slacks and a burgundy button-up blouse that hugged her lithe frame.

No longer breathing, Bryce cleared her throat and realized this must be Ash, the woman Coleen casually referenced earlier. “I’m Bryce. Is Emma in, please?”

Ash looked confused. “Ah, may I ask what this is about?”

Bryce felt the tips of her incisors extending as the shifter’s heart beat hummed in her ears. “I’m an old acquaintance.”

The shifter’s nostrils flared and her eyes narrowed. “I see.”

Bryce’s attention was pulled from the beautiful shifter to a stunning blonde coming into sight behind Ash. Her hair looked like wheat-colored silk, her skin was flawless, and the sapphire blue dress she wore matched her vivid blue eyes.

Her gaze still fixed on Bryce, Ash spoke to the blonde. “Em, you have a visitor.”

Emma stopped, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“Hello, Emma.” Bryce managed to sound casual in spite of the lump in her throat.

Ash looked at Bryce, and then back at Emma who was clearly shocked. Stepping back from the door, Ash reached for Emma’s hand. “Em? Who is this?”

Emma shook her head, forcing the words from her mouth. “My murderer.”

Bryce winced at the word. “It’s true.” She stood perfectly still, uncertain what either woman might do.

Ash was the first to speak after what seemed an eternity of silence. “Why are you here?”

“Coleen sent me.” Bryce knew that wasn’t entirely true, but the nuance seemed pointless.

Ash and Emma looked at each other and then back at Bryce. “That’s who, not why.” Ash stated flatly.

Bryce couldn’t help but smile at the woman’s candor. “Right. May I come in and explain?”

Emma finally spoke as she clutched Ash’s hand. “You know she’s a shifter?”

Bryce nodded. “Yes, and I can control the hunger.”

Ash looked back and forth between the two women. “Em, maybe we should -”

A faint smile found its way to Emma’s full lips. “It’s fine, but be cautious.” Her eyes settled on Ash. “You know where we keep the good silver.”

Ash nodded. “Come in, Bryce.” She stepped to the side and the redhead slowly walked into the house.

Ash closed the door and Bryce turned to face the two women. “If you would be more comfortable, I would have no issue with you restraining me before we talk.”

Emma shook her head. “There’s no reason to be rude as long as you - behave.”

“I assure you I’ll be on my best behavior.” Bryce raised her right hand. “Swear. The last thing I need is another enemy.”

Emma gestured toward the study to the left of the main entryway. “Let’s have a seat. We were on our way out to a dinner, but we can stand to be fashionably late.”

Bryce took a seat on a brown leather sofa that sat on the far side of the room. The room’s walls were lined with floor to ceiling bookshelves, and numerous books were stacked and opened on a large mahogany desk that sat opposite the couch. “You clearly do a lot of reading.” Her voice sounded shaky and the uncertainty caught her off guard.

Emma looked around the room. “What else can someone do with an eternity of days and nights?”

Ash and Emma leaned against the edge of the large desk. Ash intentionally crossed her arms over her chest, wanting Bryce to know she did not feel inordinately hospitable.

Leaning back on the sofa, Bryce crossed her legs. “I’ve only just learned to read, actually.”

Emma’s eyebrow shot up. “What?”

Bryce nodded. “It’s true. I was born in 1744 Ireland. The last thing on anyone’s mind was teaching a girl to read, and then once I was turned - well -” The redhead looked down at her hands. “I had other things on my mind.”

“How long ago did you learn?” Ash asked.

Bryce looked up at the ceiling, calculating the time in her head. “About ten years ago.”

Ash huffed. “So you didn’t just learn?”

Emma put her hand on Ash’s forearm. “Considering she’s two hundred and sixty seven years old - she did just learn.”

Ash's expression softened. “Sorry. Look, can I get you a drink? We have a really nice Glenlivet 18.”

Bryce didn’t feel like a drink, but thought she should take advantage of what was clearly a lessening of the tension between the three women. “That would be great. Thanks.”

Ash looked at Emma to ensure she was okay being left alone with the other vampire. “It’s fine.” The blonde leaned in and quickly kissed the worried woman’s cheek.

After Ash left the room, Emma walked over and sat next to Bryce. “Ireland? I thought your accent sounded brogue.” She hesitated. The doctor had never been particularly adept at small talk. “Why have you found me?”

Bryce turned to face the blonde. “Did Coleen never tell you our paths crossed over forty years ago?”

“Coleen tends to pace herself with those sorts of tidbits.” Emma smiled. “She’s very careful in how she wields her information.” Emma shifted so her arm was along the back of the sofa. “You met her in Vietnam then?”

Bryce nodded. “Yes. We were hunting some of the same grounds when our paths crossed. After talking we realized we had some things in common.”

Emma smiled. “Small world.”

Bryce tapped her index finger nervously on the arm of the sofa. “Are you happy?”

Emma leaned back, the question clearly taking her by surprise. After a few seconds, the blonde nodded. “I am now. I haven’t always been - but no one is.”

Bryce frowned. “When you weren’t - may I ask why?”

Before Emma could respond, Ash came back in the room with two glasses of scotch in her hands. “I brought you a pour too, Em.”

The two vampires took the glasses from Ash. Emma inhaled deeply before sipping the maple colored liquid. “Ash, maybe you should go on without me? Alfred won’t miss me, but if his partner doesn’t show up for his retirement dinner, he may never get over it.”

“I don’t want to leave you and -” Ash stopped. She looked at Emma and then back at Bryce. “I’ll have my phone if you need anything.”

Emma got up and, setting her glass on the end table, followed Ash toward the front door. “I’ll walk you out.”

“Are you crazy?” Ash whispered once the two women were standing on the front porch.

Emma cupped Ash’s cheek with her hand. “Sweetie, she can hear you anyway, so just speak normally.”

Ash blushed and took Emma’s hand in hers. “Well, shit, Em, this is coming out of nowhere.” Shaking her head, she pulled Emma into her arms. “If she does anything - I swear.”

Emma leaned back and brushed a stray strand of Ash’s hair off her forehead. “We’re a little more evenly matched than when we first met.” She kissed Ash, enjoying the warmth and smoothness of the woman’s lips. “I’ll be fine.”

“The entire thing reeks of suspicious.” Ash stepped back, her arms still wrapped around Emma’s waist. “Anytime Coleen’s involved, it can’t be on the up-and-up.”

“Odds are good you’re right.” A worried expression moved across Emma’s face. “This and the dead vampires -”

“And what about that?” Ash couldn’t help but whisper. “I don’t believe Coleen was clueless until you called her.”

“Again, odds are good you’re right, but I’m not precognitive, so I can only know what I know.” The doctor leaned in and kissed Ash again. “Now, go. If I can, I’ll join you; otherwise, hurry home after.”

“I’m doing this against my better judgment.” Ash frowned as she pulled her car keys from the small gray handbag she was carrying.

“I appreciate you deferring to mine.” Emma reluctantly let her arms drop from around Ash’s shoulders. “Drive safe.”

Emma walked back into the house to find Bryce standing in front of the bookshelves scanning the myriad of titles. “What do you like to read?” The doctor sat back down on the sofa and took a drink of her scotch.

Bryce glanced back at the woman, amazed at how beautiful she was. “Everything really. I’ve not spent a lot of time with humans since I was turned, so books help me remember - and learn - what to do.” The redhead pulled a copy of One Hundred Years of Solitude from the shelf and began thumbing through it. “Time was not passing, it was turning in a circle.”

Emma smiled. “That’s one of my favorites.”

The two women looked at each other for a long while, neither feeling the need to speak. Bryce finally turned and put the book back on the shelf. “Do you hate me? Are you stomaching this interaction to avoid a scene?”

Emma looked earnestly at the woman in front of her. The symmetrical planes of her face, the flawless, porcelain like skin, the thick mane of auburn hair cascading down her back. She was perfect in every way until you looked into her eyes. The piercing, vivid green was muddied by centuries of violence, fear, and rage. Emma, of all people, knew everyone was capable of doing a great wrong, a seemingly unforgivable evil, and not themselves being inherently evil.

“I haven’t thought of you much over the years. Lewis is truly my maker, and I love him for the life he gave me.” Emma stood up and walked across the room so she was standing in front of Bryce. “I don’t know anything about you really, except for the brief moment our lives intersected.” The blonde took Bryce’s hand in hers. “Please know, whatever you think you took from me that night, I’ve found tenfold since.”

Looking down at their joined hands, Bryce felt immeasurable gratitude toward the woman in front of her. She was amazed Emma could give her the one thing she struggled to give herself - forgiveness. “Thank you.”

A warm smile spread across Emma’s lips as she wrapped her arms around Bryce. “You’re welcome.”

***

Ash entered the code into the keypad on the front door and heard the melodic tones of Emma’s laughter coming from the kitchen near the back of the house. Putting her purse down on the table near the door, Ash made her way through the house.

Emma had texted her a little over an hour ago to let her know she would not make Alfred’s dinner, and that she and Bryce were at the house talking. Rounding the corner and walking into the kitchen, Ash was struck by the casualness of the scene in front of her. The two vampires sat on stools at the granite-top island in the middle of the kitchen, each woman with a tumbler of Glenlivet in her hand.

“Hi.” Ash hesitated at the doorway.

Emma looked up and smiled warmly. “You’re home.” The blonde got up and walked across the kitchen toward Ash. Wrapping her arms around her waist, Emma kissed Ash on her full lips. “I missed you.”

Simultaneously relieved to see the love of her life was unharmed, but confused by the sorority sister vibe the two women were exuding, Ash managed a weak smile. “Glad to be home. How’s everything going with you two?”

Emma stepped back and turned toward Bryce. “We’ve been having a very productive talk. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Bryce nodded and took a drink of her scotch. “Absolutely. You’ve both been wonderful to me considering the circumstances.”

Ash walked to the stainless steel refrigerator and took a bottle of Dogfish 90 IPA from the door. “What are the circumstances exactly?” She looked directly at Bryce as she opened the bottle of beer. She was willing to defer to Emma on most of this, but the cop in her wouldn’t let her follow along blindly. She had questions.

Bryce looked nervously at Emma, and then back at Ash. “Well, it’s a great relief to me that Emma doesn’t hate me.”

Ash grinned. There were many things she loved about the doctor; her warmth and compassion were chief among them. The fact Emma sincerely had no animosity toward a woman who had, for all intents and purposes, savagely killed her didn’t surprise Ash in the least.

“I understand struggling with actions driven less by the substance of your character and more by the necessity of your biology.” Emma spoke quietly as she sat back down next to Bryce.

“My character hasn’t always been stellar either.” Bryce emptied the glass of scotch.

Ash frowned. “What does that mean?” She wasn’t altogether convinced of Bryce’s intentions, and her suspicions made her feel on edge around the woman.

Bryce looked down at her empty glass and took a deep breath. “A few days ago I was kidnapped by a witch and her coven.”

Ash and Emma’s eyes widened in unison, but it was Emma who managed to speak. “A witch? Why would she do that?”

Ash looked back and forth from a shocked Emma to a nervous Bryce. “Wait - what? Didn’t you forget the more pertinent question, honey? Like - what the hell do you mean a figment of a fairytale kidnapped you?”

Emma reached for Ash’s hand and squeezed it gently. “They’re real. Very real.” She looked reassuringly at Ash. “It hadn’t occurred to me to tell you about them since I personally have never encountered one.” Emma looked at Bryce. “I thought the bloodlines had all but dried up?”

Bryce reached for the bottle of Glenlivet and poured herself another glass. “The witch I’ve managed to piss off is over three hundred years old.” Taking a long drink, Bryce glanced up at Ash and Emma. Both women were staring intently at the redhead.

“Pissed off may be an understatement.” Bryce wished she could disappear and avoid what was about to take an already strained conversation to an entirely worse level.

Ash sat on the stool across from Bryce. In spite of her age and power, the vampire was verging on timid; but that wasn’t going to deter Ash from interrogating the woman. “How do you know her?”

Bryce grimaced at the harshness of Ash’s tone, but knew she had this coming. “We met when I was still human and living in Boston.” Taking a deep breath, Bryce looked up and seeing the suspicious look on Ash’s face, the vampire swallowed. “We were lovers.”

Ash leaned back on the stool and crossed her arms. Glancing to her right, she saw Emma standing perfectly still as Bryce continued. “I was turned, and then we were enemies.”

Shaking her head, Ash pursed her lips. “Bullshit.” Emma looked at her lover and frowned. “I’m sorry, Em, but she needs to be honest with us.”

Bryce cleared her throat. “She’s right. I’m sorry. In spite of decades of trying to be a better - ah, person, old habits die hard, and there’s nothing I’m proud of in this story.”

Emma looked at Bryce for several seconds before sitting on the stool next to her. “I’ve never found much use for being comforted by a lie.” She made eye contact with Ash and smiled, remembering how her own dishonesty had nearly cost her the love of her life. “The truth is best.”

Bryce kept her eyes averted as she spoke. “I killed her son after I was turned, to avenge her killing my maker. This and the inherently bad blood between our kind is why she wants me dead.”

Feeling the guilt and shame of admitting to the murder building in her chest, Bryce got up and began to pace. “She and two others restrained me with silver and threw me in a remote lake north of the city. They had already drained me. That, along with being weighted down, ensured I would live out eternity at the bottom of a bog.”

Bryce remembered her first conversation with Alison about the bog bodies, and the many reasons someone would be relegated to that fate. Humiliation washed over her, knowing her transgressions - both past and present - warranted the witch’s revenge.

Emma got up and gently turned Bryce around. Their eyes met and Emma saw in Bryce’s the same self-loathing and hate she had once had. “Less than four hours after I was turned, I murdered my ten year old half-sister.”

“Emma!” Ash’s startled voice filled the kitchen. “You don’t have to tell -”

Emma smiled and held her hand up toward Ash. “I do. She needs to know we’re all sinners.” Looking back at Bryce, Emma placed her hand on the woman’s cheek. “In a manner of speaking.” Her tone was low and reassuring as she spoke. “You have to be able to look at your mistakes, face them - and ultimately accept they exist. Then you can move forward.”

Bryce’s eyes filled with tears as she placed her hand over Emma’s. “Thank you - again.”

Ash looked at the two vampires. In that moment, everything that bound her to Emma - love, respect, pride, trust - filled her heart until she felt it might burst. Then a frown replaced the smile on her face as a nagging thought bounced around her mind. “Bryce, how did you get out of the lake?”

Taking a step back from Emma, Bryce looked at Ash for several seconds. She willed herself past the impulse to lie and into an honest space where she could own her actions. “A woman I’ve befriended - a human - she dove in and saved me.”

“What woman? Did you feed on her?” Ash resented having to prod Bryce for information when the woman claimed she wanted to tell the truth.

“I did, but only for a moment, and then I drove her off.” Bryce cringed at the memory of a terrified Alison running off into the darkness.

“So now she knows about you? Or had you already told her?” Emma asked the next obvious questions.

“She didn’t know. I had no intention of telling her, but now -” Bryce sat back down, her shoulders slumped. “I - I care for her very much, and I can’t bear the thought -”

“How do you know her?” Ash’s mind raced as she was now more concerned with who Bryce’s friend might tell and how it may compromise Emma and her.

“I’m taking classes at the University of the Incarnate Word. She’s one of my professors.” Bryce stated matter-of-factly. “I’ve told Coleen, and she -”

“What class? What’s the woman’s name?” Ash stood perfectly straight, her fists clenched at her sides.

Bryce was confused at Ash’s sudden interest in the details of her relationship with Alison and looked back and forth between her and Emma. “I - ah, her name is Alison Bailey, she teaches -”

In a blink of an eye, Ash lunged at Bryce. Clearing the island in a single bound, she tackled the vampire to the floor. Her jaw had instantly extended as her head took on the characteristics of a large black wolf. Her hands had morphed into talons with long black nails protruding from each of the eight claws.

Bryce held the woman off as razor sharp teeth and claws snapped and scratched at her face and neck. As quickly as the attack had begun, it was over. Emma grabbed Ash by the scruff of the neck and pulled her off of Bryce. Wrapping her arms around the shifter’s shoulders, the stronger vampire restrained her girlfriend.

In a single motion, Bryce pushed herself off the floor and stood in front of Ash and Emma. Her teeth were fully extended as her iridescent green eyes glared at the two women.

“Enough!” Emma’s voice was a low, menacing growl. “Ash, stop!”

“What? What did I say?” Bryce was seething and pouring all of her self-restraint into not attacking the shifter.

A moment later, Ash’s head and hands reemerged. The kitchen filled with the scent of burning leaves and damp earth. Both vampires stopped breathing to avoid the inevitable allure of the shifter’s scent. “I know Alison. We were together once, and I swear to god if you’ve hurt her I’ll put you back in that lake myself!”

In spite of the look of utter embarrassment and guilt that consumed Bryce’s face, Ash still wanted to punch the woman in the throat. The image of Alison scared and hurt in the dark sent a rush of rage through the detective.

“Ash, let Bryce explain.” Emma’s voice was low and soothing just behind Ash’s ear.

Her girlfriend’s voice pulled Ash back from the brink, and she pushed the anger down until she felt some semblance of control returning. “Fine. Explain.”

Emma continued to hold Ash as Bryce took a tentative step toward her. “My blood loss was massive. I only have a foggy memory of what happened, but once I realized I was feeding on her, I stopped.” Bryce’s eyes pleaded with Emma.

“Ash, she stopped. Alison is fine.” Emma looked at Bryce. “Right?”

Bryce nodded quickly. “Yes. The bite was to her forearm, and she ran away on her own.”

“But now she’s in the middle of your crap.” Ash relaxed enough that Emma thought it safe to release her. “She didn’t ask for that.”

Bryce looked down, her brow furrowed. “You’re right. I never should have talked to her. Or become friends with her.” Chewing nervously on the inside of her lower lip, the redhead closed her eyes. “I can’t do this right, no matter how much I want to.”

Emma shook her head as she stepped around Ash. “Enough with the self-pity. You mentioned Coleen. She knows about all this?”

Bryce nodded. “Yes. That’s how I found out you were here.”

Ash laughed and looked at Emma. “I told you Coleen was up to no good. I can’t imagine she will let Alison go merrily on her way, knowing what she knows.”

“She wants her turned. I refused, and honestly she seemed to lose interest when I explained about the Necromancer.”

Emma gasped. “You hadn’t said the woman was a Necromancer.”

Bryce sighed. “A very powerful one.”

Emma looked at Ash, who, given the deep frown she wore, was clearly confused. “Necromancers have appeared in literature as far back as Homer’s Odyssey with varying powers.” The doctor began to pace. “They were thought to be able to raise the dead either in spirit or body through incantations or rituals.” She frowned. “Clearly, they can control life and death by bringing a vampire back to life, only to kill them minutes later.”

“Jesus.” Ash eyes widened. “The bodies on the south side?”

Emma nodded. Ash reached for the doctor’s hand. She had rarely been worried for Emma’s physical safety given her strength and speed, but knowing there was someone out there that could simply end Emma, the weight of worry bore down on Ash.

Sensing her concern, Emma squeezed Ash’s hand. “It’s fine. Don’t worry.”

Shaking her head, Ash pulled Emma to her side. “How can you say that? This Necromancer could kill you in a second and there’s nothing to be done about it.”

Emma wrapped her arm around Ash’s waist. “There is no her and I.” Glancing at Bryce, the blonde frowned. “I’m sorry to say this, but I’m sure her energies and efforts are focused - for the most part - on you.”

“Lucky me.” Bryce poured another glass of scotch.

“You can’t be this casual about it?” Ash took a step away from Emma, her eyes narrowed as she looked back and forth between the two vampires. “Has it been so long since either of you had the proverbial specter of death hanging over your heads that you’ve forgotten to fear it?”

Ash felt the frustration surging through her and was struggling to articulate her point. Looking at Emma, who stood with a concerned expression on her face, Ash rolled her eyes. “Don’t look worried for me, Em. Worry for yourself.”

Reaching for Ash, Emma pulled the frazzled woman to her. “I am worried, but what’s to be done about it at this point? It’s Bryce that’s truly in danger.” She kissed Ash’s forehead. “I would imagine those other three vampires were a warm-up.”

“How do you know they were vampires?” Bryce asked.

Emma leaned back and looked at Bryce. “I pulled the files from the autopsies. There were trace amounts of the fibrinolytic enzyme found during the oral cavity exam, and when the dental x-rays were taken for purposes of identification -” The doctor hesitated before continuing. “There were channels in the skull - just above the incisors. Clearly facilitating the extension and retraction of the teeth. An interesting anomaly to the attending M.E., but nothing to do with the cause of death; so noted but not investigated.”

The three women fell silent. Bryce cleared her throat and finally spoke. “What should I do about Alison?”

Ash started to speak, but stopped when Emma grabbed her hand and interrupted. “You said you care for her. Then you should be honest with her.” Emma glanced to her left as Ash dropped her hand and turned her back. “Ash, what is it?”

Shrugging, the detective hung her head. “That’s good advice, Em, and I should take it myself.”

“You mean tell Alison about us? About you?” Emma’s voice shook as she spoke.

Turning to face Emma, Ash nodded. “Yeah. I’m a lot of things, but a hypocrite isn’t one of them.” She looked at Bryce. “I’ll pave the way for you, but then it’s on you. Got it?”

The redhead nodded, grateful for the assistance, and hopeful that Ash and Alison’s history together would allow for her to forge a future with the professor.

Chapter 9

“Well at least you’re not dead.” Lydia’s voice boomed from Alison’s cell phone.

“Hey, Lydia.” Alison’s head was pounding as she put the phone to her ear. She felt sick to her stomach and hadn’t been able to keep very much food down since the incident with Bryce nearly three days ago.

“Hey yourself. Are you okay?” Lydia’s usual garishness was replaced with genuine concern.

Happy to hear from Lydia, Alison slowly sat up in bed. “Yeah, just a little under the weather.” The fact she hadn’t left her house for two days after stumbling back from the hotel didn’t seem worth mentioning. Nor did the fact she had phoned her department head to let him know her teaching assistant would be facilitating her classes for the next week. She wasn’t prepared to tell Lydia that her melancholy stemmed from an encounter with a vampire.

“Can I bring you something? Soup? Scotch?” Lydia joked.

Alison smiled for the first time in days. “No, I should be back Monday, but thank you.” Her phone beeped. Looking at the caller ID, she saw it was Ash. “I have another call. Thanks for checking in.”

“Okay, hon. You take care of yourself and call me if you need anything.” Lydia said reassuringly.

“Will do.” Alison tapped her phone. “Hello?”

“Ali, hi. It’s Ash.” The voice on the other end was tentative. “Are you okay?”

Alison was confused by Ash’s concern. They hadn’t spoken since she had called with the information on the unsolved murders, and their social circles didn’t overlap, so she wouldn’t have heard about Alison’s sudden withdrawal from the world.

“Actually, I’ve been sick the last few days; so just taking it easy. How are you?” The long silence caused Alison to move her phone away from her ear to see if the call was still connected. “Hello?”

“I thought we could get that drink.” Ash’s voice was tight.

“Ash, I’d love to but like I said -”

“Alison, I really think we need to talk.” Ash was rarely inconsiderate, so her persistence in meeting with Alison in spite of her not feeling well set off alarms in Alison’s head.

“Why the urgency?” Alison pulled the navy blue quilt back and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

“We need to talk is all.” There was a long pause and for a second Alison thought again that they might have been disconnected.

“Ash?” Alison slid to the edge of her bed.

“I’m here. Are you available to meet?”

“What’s going on?” Alison stood up and ran her fingers through her tousled hair.

After another long pause, Ash cleared her throat. “Have you taken any late night swims lately, Ali?”

The room began to spin, and Alison sat back on the bed. “What did you ask me?” She felt a wave of nausea rise up from her stomach and settle in her throat.

“Can we talk now?” Ash’s breathing was audible even over the phone.

“When and where?”

***

It was a little after four in the afternoon as Alison walked across the parking lot of the renovated Pearl Brewery complex to Blue Box Bar. She had read reviews on the bar since its opening over two years ago, but had not found the occasion to patronize the establishment. She had not imagined her first visit would be to discuss a vampire bite with her ex-girlfriend.

Seeing her reflection in the large, tinted, plate glass windows of the bar, Alison was relieved to see the hot shower and lunch she had managed before leaving to meet Ash had greatly improved her appearance. Wearing a pair of black boot cut slacks and a cranberry-colored long sleeve wrap blouse, Alison pulled the large, black, swinging metal door to the bar open.

The ambiance of the bar was modern industrial, with exposed brick and iron throughout an intimate space, and in spite of the purpose of her being there, she immediately liked it. Scanning the space for Ash, she looked up to see her friend, clad in a charcoal gray pant suit, waving from a second story balcony that looked out over the main floor of the bar.

The bar was relatively empty as Alison made her way up the winding, wrought iron staircase. As she approached the table, she realized Ash wasn’t alone. Her breath caught as she assessed the beautiful blonde woman sitting next to the detective.

The woman had a lean athletic build and pale, flawless skin that complimented her angular jaw and perfectly proportioned pink lips. Even in the dim light of the bar, her hair looked like strands of silk cascading over her shoulders. She was wearing a navy colored, short sleeve, silk blouse and a dark brown pencil skirt that hit just above her knees, accentuating her perfectly toned legs.

“Ali. Glad you came.” Ash hugged Alison tightly to her, clearly happy to see her.

“Given the apparent topic of conversation, I could hardly resist.” Alison tried to keep the suspicion out of her voice. “Who’s this?”

Ash stepped back and turned toward the blonde woman. “Sorry. Alison, this is my partner, Dr. Emma Atman. I mentioned her at lunch.”

The woman’s face lit up with a genuine smile as she extended her hand to Alison. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

Taking the doctor’s hand, Alison gasped and her eyes shot down to where she and Emma’s hands were joined. “Your hand is -”

Emma’s eyebrow arched. “Cold?” She slowly extracted her hand from Alison’s and looked at Ash.

“Not a great segue, but it will have to do.” Ash pulled one of the wood and metal stools out for Alison. “Please have a seat. Are you still a Jameson on the rocks?”

Alison was having trouble keeping up, but managed a slight nod and then watched as Ash disappeared downstairs to get drinks.

“That’s the only drawback of this place: no table service.” Emma tapped her fingers on the table. “Ash tells me you’re a professor of American folklore at the University of the Incarnate Word.” Alison felt like her tongue had gone numb, and she had trouble doing much more than nodding. “I read one of your books when I realized Ash knew you. Beyond Salem - Heresy and Hysterics is a wonderful study on mass hysteria. It reminded me of the dancing plague of 1518 in Strasbourg, which, as I’m sure you know, was part of the Holy Roman Empire at the time. It began with a woman named Frau Troffea, who danced in the streets of the city for what has been reported to be over a week, until -”

“Are you boring her with the details, honey?” Ash stood next to Alison, balancing three glasses in her hands.

Emma quickly reached for the pint glass that held Ash’s Dogfish 90 IPA, allowing the dark haired woman to slide the two remaining glasses onto the table. “I was trying to.”

Ash grinned. “Can she have her drink first?”

Emma shook her head. “Don’t you think she will need it after?”

“And during, please.” Alison finally managed to speak before emptying the glass of whiskey.

The two women laughed, and Ash sat down between Emma and Alison. Taking a long drink of her beer, she wiped the foam from her upper lip before speaking. “Where were we?”

“The cold hand segue.” Alison wanted another drink.

Ash looked sympathetically at Alison. “You look absolutely miserable, Ali.”

“Ash. That’s hardly the tone to strike.” Emma interrupted and reached across the table, taking Alison’s hand in hers. “My hand is like Bryce’s, yes?”

Alison’s eyes widened. “You know Bryce?”

Emma nodded and quickly squeezed the startled woman’s hand before releasing it. “I do. How isn’t important now, but I imagine - given your area of study and the peculiar nature of recent events - you have a question to ask me.”

Alison looked at Ash, who had already emptied her pint of beer. Between the whiskey, and the fact she trusted Ash implicitly, Alison found she had the courage needed to continue the conversation. “Are you a vampire?” She cringed at the word.

Emma leaned back, gently swirling the half empty glass of Glenlivet. “Yes.”

An audible exhale escaped Alison, and she grabbed the corners of the table to steady herself. Ash’s warm hand was on her forearm, rubbing it gently for reassurance. “Are you okay?”

Alison tilted her head back and took a deep breath. “I need another drink, and then I can let you know.”

Without a word, Ash hopped off the stool and disappeared downstairs. Emma remained perfectly still, her blue eyes studying Alison closely as she tried to gauge her reaction. Alison was having trouble making eye contact with the woman, much less conversation. The silence was verging on unbearable by the time Ash returned with another round of drinks.

“I figured we could all use another.” She slid Alison’s glass over to her. “I got you a double.”

Alison sighed, taking a long drink, the whiskey burning the back of her throat. “Perfect.”

Ash cleared her throat. “Before we go any further, do you believe Emma?”

Alison didn’t know Emma, but what she did know, what was undeniable, was what had happened between her and Bryce, next to a dark lake, three nights earlier. “Yes.”

Ash’s shoulders relaxed, and she took Alison’s hand in both of hers. “There’s more.”

Alison closed her eyes, the back of her neck and shoulders were throbbing from the stress. “Of course there is.”

“I could try to explain it, but it might be easier if I just show you.” Ash looked nervously back and forth from Alison to Emma. The doctor gave her a quick smile and nod. “Look down, Ali.”

Alison hesitated as her eyes slowly fell to where her and Ash’s hands were joined. She felt a wave of nausea wash over her as the room began to shrink around her. “What - what’s that?” Her voice was small and she wasn’t sure she had managed to speak at all, the tightness in her chest making it nearly impossible to breathe.

“It’s a panda paw.” Ash stated matter-of-factly.

“What’s it doing on the end of your arm?” Alison’s neck and face felt like they were on fire as blood surged through her.

“A little less than a year ago I was attacked by a woman. She was a shifter.” Ash paused as she watched Alison closely. “She bit me and without going into too much detail, I can now shift into pretty much any animal of my choosing.”

Alison’s eyes widened as she struggled to process the information. Looking down at the massive black paw that covered her right hand, she followed the line of coarse black fur until it faded into Ash’s tanned arm. “That’s impossible.”

Emma cleared her throat. “It’s easiest to process if you consider it a type of genetic mutation or manifestation of abnormal cell growth. Over the centuries, vampires for example, have come to realize our - ah, condition - is most likely a virus with very specific symptoms and really nothing to be -” The horrified expression on Alison’s face caused Emma to stop the biology lesson. “I can imagine, though, how shocking it must be to see it up close for the first time.”

Ash smiled as she reached for Emma’s hand with her human one. “Too much, too soon, sweetie.” Lifting the large black paw from Alison’s hand, the muscles in Ash’s forearm flexed and bulged slightly, the skin taking on a red flush as the black paw began to quickly fold in on itself. Within a few seconds, Ash’s long tapered fingers reemerged and the scent of burning leaves and dirt filled the space.

Alison gasped and instinctively pulled back. She felt as if she had been suddenly and violently plunged into a twisted, warped fairytale. “I don’t think - I can’t.” She grabbed her purse and got up; her legs felt loose and weak as she stood.

“Ali, wait.” Ash got up and quickly stepped in front of the frightened woman. “Nothing’s changed, you just know now.”

Alison shook her head, unable to make eye contact with Ash. “Everything has changed.” Finally, looking up at the woman, Alison swallowed the lump in her throat. “How can you think otherwise?”

Ash looked pleadingly at Emma, who remained seated. “Em?”

The vampire slid off the wooden stool, her brown suede Cole Haan heels clicking on the wood floor as she stood next to Ash. “Alison, I’ve only just met you, but from what Ash has told me, you’re an intelligent and kind person. I trust that hasn’t changed in the past five minutes?” Emma took Ash’s hand in hers, a quick smile crossing her full lips. “Ash is exactly the same person you knew five minutes ago, and she’ll continue to be the same person you have loved and trusted for the better part of your life.” The doctor’s gaze was steady and intent.

Alison looked at the beautiful woman in front of her. The sincerity and warmth in her blue eyes resonating with her. She did know Ash, and she knew the woman would never do anything to hurt her. Tears filled Alison’s eyes as she reached for Ash’s hand. “You know I’m not built for this.”

Ash pulled Alison into a tight hug. “No one is built for this.”

The tears flowed freely as Alison found some comfort in Ash’s embrace. A cool hand gently rubbed her back, and she knew it was Emma attempting to console her as well. “I think you’re more equipped than you might imagine, considering what Bryce said you did at the lake.”

Alison leaned away from Ash and looked at Emma. “That was different. I-” She didn’t know why it was different, but in the moment, and in the countless minutes she spent thinking about that night, she had never thought of her actions as brave or extraordinary. “I was scared - not brave. Bryce needed help and I-” Her heart was pounding in her ears, and she couldn’t find the words.

“You care for her.” Emma stated the obvious.

Alison stepped back from Ash and wiped her face with the back of her hand. “Yes.” In the end, it was simple. Bryce mattered to her; she didn’t know if she loved the woman, but she had cared enough for her to dive into a dark, lifeless lake to save her, and she would do it again in spite of what she now knew.

“Why don’t I get everyone another drink, and we can continue this conversation.” Ash looked hopeful.

Alison didn’t think she had the strength to continue, but her natural curiosity pushed her forward. “Okay, but no more doubles. My head is spinning just fine without the added assistance of alcohol.”

***

Alison sat cross legged, nervously strumming her fingers on the arm of her chocolate colored sofa. She had been unsure what to wear for her and Bryce’s meeting. What’s the etiquette for seeing a woman I’m attracted to but who also happens to be a two-hundred-and-sixty-year-old vampire who’s friends with my ex-girlfriend - who’s apparently a shifter now and living with a hundred-and-fifty-year-old vampire doctor? Emily Post missed this one.

Standing up, Alison rubbed her sweaty palms down the front of her jean clad thighs and began pacing back and forth in her living room. She had opted for casual and after showering, had slipped into a pair of faded Gap jeans, a v-neck navy blue cable knit sweater, and a pair of brown leather Coach driving shoes.

The professor had hesitated when Ash suggested she and Bryce meet and discuss the situation. Ultimately, Alison put her faith in Ash’s good judgment, and Emma’s reassurances that Bryce wouldn’t turn her into a midnight snack.

The knock on the door halted Alison’s pacing. A moment’s courage.

Alison walked toward the door and taking a deep breath opened it. “It’s you.”

Bryce was standing on her front porch in a pair of dark slim cut blue jeans, an olive colored button-up cotton utility shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and the brown leather Skechers Alison remembered her wearing when they first met at the museum. Her auburn locks hung loosely around her shoulders.

“Did you have someone else coming over?” Bryce’s eyes narrowed as she was clearly confused.

“No - I just thought - I mean-” Alison exhaled. “You look like-”

Bryce frowned. “Like?”

Alison rolled her eyes, irritated by her inability to articulate. “Shit. You look like you.”

Bryce nodded. “I would think so.” She looked past Alison into the empty house. “May I come in?”

“Right. God, sorry.” Alison quickly stepped aside. “Come in.”

Bryce hesitated before taking the step across the threshold. Once inside, Alison shut the door and leaned against it as Bryce turned to face her. “If you would prefer to be out in public, we could-”

Alison waved her hand in between her and Bryce. “No. This is - this is fine.” Stepping around Bryce, Alison walked toward the living room, trying to ignore the flush of heat to her chest as she inhaled and caught the scent of oranges and vanilla. “Can I get you something? I don’t have Bushmill, but I have some Jameson.”

Bryce followed Alison into the living room and looked around the space, unclear where she should sit. “That would be fine.”

Alison recognized the uncertainty on Bryce’s face and pointed to the love seat. “Have a seat while I get that.” The two women each took a step forward at the same time and nearly ran into each other.

Bryce placed her hand on Alison’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “I can go. You seem really nervous.”

Unable to make eye contact with Bryce, Alison shook her head. “I’ll be okay.” Not waiting for the woman’s response, Alison stepped around her and walked to her kitchen.

I can do better than this. Pouring Bryce and her two generous glasses of whiskey, Alison silently chastised herself for being so awkward.

Carrying the drinks into the living room, Alison handed the glass tumbler to Bryce who now sat stiffly on the love seat.

“Thank you.” The redhead took the drink and smiled.

“You’re welcome.” Alison made a point of not sitting at the farthest end of the sofa, so she and Bryce were only a couple feet apart.

After nearly a minute of uncomfortable silence, Bryce cleared her throat. “Don’t people usually talk about the weather when they don’t have anything else to talk about?”

Alison grinned as she took a drink of her whiskey. “Yes, but we actually have a lot to talk about.”

Bryce nodded. “True.”

“Is that why you would ask me if that’s what people do?” Alison looked at the woman across from her. “Like when you asked me to go bowling and all the books and magazines in your apartment?”

Bryce shrugged. “I’m not always sure what the right thing is or what the expected thing is. I’ve read so many books and magazines to learn what to say and not to say.” Shaking her head she frowned. “I must seem ridiculous to you.”

Alison shook her head quickly. “Not at all. I don’t really know anything about it, so why would I judge?”

Bryce smiled. “I appreciate that.” Running her long tapered finger along the rim of her glass, she chewed nervously on her lower lip. “I think I should start by thanking you for saving my life.”

Alison’s mind had been awhirl with the vampire, shifter, the world is nothing like she had imagined situation that she had forgotten she had actually saved a person’s life. “I couldn’t let them - I mean you were in trouble -” Shaking her head, the blonde sighed. “You’re welcome.”

Sensing her nervousness, Bryce transitioned the conversation. “Maybe you should just start asking me questions? You know, about…”

Alison looked at the beautiful woman across from her and was pleasantly surprised that in spite of what she did know, she still liked Bryce. “Okay, are there any rules?”

“How do you mean?” Bryce put the half empty glass of whiskey on the wooden end table between her and Alison.

“Any topics off limits? Things you won’t talk about?” Alison shifted so she was facing Bryce.

Looking toward the ceiling with a pensive expression on her face, Bryce shook her head. “Not that I can think of. And you?”

Alison’s eyes widened. “And me what?”

“Anything I can’t ask you?” A mischievous glint shot across Bryce’s green eyes.

Alison swallowed. “I didn’t think you would have any questions for me.”

Bryce turned and tucked her right leg under her so she was facing Alison. “I have lots.”

Alison hadn’t imagined Bryce would be curious about her, but she knew it was only fair to be as open with her as Alison hoped she would be. “Do your worst.”

“Speaking of worst, I want to start by telling you how sorry I am for what happened the other night.” Bryce nervously looked at Alison’s arm. “Have the scars faded yet?”

Alison instinctively reached for her arm. “Actually, yes. I was surprised.”

“There are enzymes in my saliva that both speed up the healing process and also aid in the flow of blood during – well, during the bite.” Bryce hesitated. “Anyway, I’m sorry and can never forgive myself for -”

Alison shook her head. “Stop. I won’t lie and tell you I’m thrilled with what happened, but Ash and Emma explained it to me and I understand why it happened; so don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Bryce looked down at the floor. “Thank you.”

Relieved that part of the exchange was over, Alison pursed her lips. “Now, questions? Go.”

Bryce chuckled. “You first.”

Alison took a long drink of the Jameson and a deep breath. She had so many questions that she was drawing a complete blank on where to start. She went with the one that mattered the most to her. “How long has it been since you killed a human?”

Bryce sat back as if Alison had punched her. “You get right to the point.” Alison didn’t say anything as she looked intently at the woman.

Bryce picked at a loose thread on the love seat’s arm. “Nearly thirty years, and before - well, before what happened with you and I the other night, it had been nearly ten years since I drank human blood.”

Pushing past the chill that ran up her spine thinking about that night, Alison continued. “Why did you stop killing people?”

Leaning back on the love seat, Bryce rubbed the back of her neck. “Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?”

Alison smiled reassuringly as she nodded. “It’s kind of a big deal.”

“I had been - well, behaving badly, for the better part of two hundred years when I arrived in North Vietnam.” Bryce watched Alison’s face carefully. “I had always found wars and conflicts to be the easiest way of hiding my own carnage.”

Alison’s eyes narrowed. “So, what you did could be shuffled in with the atrocities the humans were committing?”

Bryce nodded. “Exactly.”

Alison sighed. “Ironic that we’re capable of the exact same horrific acts and manage it in mass.”

Bryce cleared her throat. “It’s been like that for millennium.”

Alison shook her head and took another drink of whiskey. Somehow, she was feeling more comfortable. “I’m getting another drink, and maybe a couple of Girl Scout cookies. Would you like more?” Bryce nodded and handed Alison her nearly empty glass. “Keep talking.” Alison instructed over her shoulder as she left the living room.

“I’ve seen many wars throughout my lifetime. The American Revolutionary War, the American Civil War, the Russian Civil War, the two World Wars.” Bryce took the now full glass of whiskey, along with a plate of Trefoil shortbread cookies, from Alison as she sat back down on the sofa. “I’ve seen the various types of war. Infantry, naval, cavalry, trench, chemical - and the list goes on.”

“What happened in Vietnam then?” Alison could see Bryce was providing context, but was also stalling in getting to the point.

“The intimacy of the killing.” Bryce looked down at her hands as she nervously rubbed her thumb and forefinger together.

“I don’t understand.” Alison could see Bryce was distressed, and she fought the urge to take her hand and reassure her.

“To that point, what I had seen was the masses being killed by the masses. Yes, there was hand-to-hand, but still in groups and for some purpose - rightly or wrongly.” Bryce closed her eyes and swallowed. “I had clearly been sheltered without even realizing it.”

Alison couldn’t stop herself. She reached for Bryce’s cool hand and took it in hers. Looking down Bryce managed a weak smile. “This war was savage and encouraged the savagery. Children raped, men cutting other men’s heads off, blown up bodies, civilians hunted and massacred, dogs and cattle shot for fun. And that was before the bombings that wiped out entire villages.”

Alison wiped at an errant tear as it trickled down her cheek. “You don't write about the horrors of war. You write about a kid's burnt sock lying in the road.”

Bryce turned her head to the side and looked at Alison. “Who said that?”

Alison grinned. “Richard Price. I listen to a lot of NPR.”

Bryce nodded. “It was horrific. It brought into very sharp focus the entirety of my life and the pointlessness of it.” Bryce got up and turned her back to Alison as she spoke. “I couldn’t begin to tell you the things I’ve done. I was wicked, conniving, and vicious. My power was unchecked and brutal.”

Alison feared she would say the wrong thing to the clearly vulnerable woman in front of her, but the truth found its voice. “I believe you, and I don’t want the details. Not because I couldn’t forgive you - that’s not my place anyway - but because there’s nothing to be done about it.”

Bryce’s face was streaked with blood as she turned around, tears flowing freely from her eyes. Forcibly stifling a gasp, Alison refused to look away. “Clearly at some point you figured out other people mattered and were as real as you; so you changed.” Pulling several tissues from the box on the coffee table, Alison took a step toward Bryce. “Here.”

Taking the tissue, Bryce wiped at her eyes, managing to remove most of the blood. “Thank you. I know this looks awful.”

Alison smiled. “No one looks good when they cry; you’ve just mastered it.”

A quick laugh escaped Bryce. “Thanks.”

Sitting back down on the sofa, Alison patted the space next to her with her hand. “Sit down. I have lots more questions.”

Chapter 10

It took several seconds for Bryce’s eyes to adjust to the pre-dawn darkness. She lay under a coarse, thin, beige wool blanket that barely covered her torso and legs. Her neck was stiff as the nearly flat, straw filled burlap pillow offered little support for her head.

Sitting up, she threw her legs over the side of the narrow cot she had been sleeping on for the past eight months. She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and shuddered when her bare feet touched the cold wood plank floor. An icy breeze made its way through the gaps between the slats of wood lining the outside of her servant’s shack, sending a chill up Bryce’s spine that her threadbare, white linen shift did little to diminish.

Looking toward the corner of the room, she could see her mother’s cot was empty and the small, black iron stove next to it was barely warm, as the meager allotment of coal they were given the day before had all but burnt out.

Taking the iron poker that rested in the empty coal bucket next to the stove, Bryce tried to stir some life into the stove. A faint, reddish glow began to radiate from the bed of coals and the woman held her hands in front of the open stove door to warm herself.

After several minutes, with still only moderate warmth coming from the stove, Bryce turned to the small wooden table next to her cot. Pouring water from a clay pitcher into the basin that sat on the table, she quickly stripped off her shift and braced herself for the ice cold sting of the water as she splashed her face.

Reaching for the scrap of cloth next to the basin, she wetted it and wiped her face, the back of her neck, and underarms before pulling the shift back over her head. Her petticoat, skirt, and stockings hung along the wall on several wooden pegs. Sliding her shapely legs into the off-white wool stockings, she quickly secured the garments with a black cotton cord around each of her thighs.

The chill of the air sent shivers along Bryce’s body and she hurriedly finished dressing, some semblance of warmth finding her as she fastened the last wooden button on her brown cotton jacket. With no mirror, Bryce ran her hands along the front of her gray skirt, smoothing the coarse cotton fabric flat, before using three metal hair clips to pin her long, thick auburn hair up.

A faint knock came from the tattered door of the shack. Unlatching the leather strap that secured the door, Bryce peered into the darkness. “You’re early.” Her voice was thin, her throat sore when she spoke, and she wondered if she was getting a cold.

“Hardly.” A young man, nearly six feet tall, stood at Bryce’s door. He had a thick mane of red hair that grew to just past his collar. Blowing into his bare hands to warm them, he shifted from foot to foot.

“It can’t be five yet, Aeden.” Bryce rolled her eyes at her younger brother as she walked back toward her cot. She pulled a pair of black leather shoes from under the bed and frowned as she slipped the shoes onto her feet, noticing how worn the leather was and that the soles were nearly gone.

Standing in the doorway, Aeden Whelan had his arms crossed tightly over his chest, the thin coat he wore doing very little to stay off the frigid March air. “Quarter past.”

“Damn.” Bryce had never been a morning person and the harsh Massachusetts winters did very little to rouse her out of bed.

“Watch your tongue or I’ll tell Mother.” Aeden teased.

Wrapping the same blanket she slept with around her head and shoulders, Bryce playfully pinched her brother’s arm. “Then I’ll tell her how you’ve been gettin’ on with Nora.”

Aeden’s eyes widened and even in the dim light, Bryce could see she had struck a chord. “You wouldn’t.” The man had been casually courting the house maid from an adjacent farm. He had confided in Bryce that the two had not always bothered with a chaperone when taking their evening walks.

Walking past her brother, the remnants of snow from a storm two weeks ago crunched under Bryce’s feet. “Never can tell.”

Aeden stopped, his breath visible in the frigid air. “I love her, and I want to marry her.”

Looking closely at her brother, Bryce could see the concern on his face. His jaw was set and his brow furrowed. “You know that’s not possible until our contract is over.”

Indentured to a small farmer near Boston, the Whelan family had fled the Connacht Province in western Ireland. The province, which was part of Galway county, had been struggling for nearly a generation to recover from the famines that ravished the country throughout the eighteenth century.

Without discussing the move with his family, Colman Whelan had announced on a Tuesday afternoon that within the week his wife and two children were leaving their small plot of land for the Colonies. The land had been handed down for over five generations, but Colman had been unable to maintain the taxes and the local authority was going to seize the two acre plot.

“We can’t pay our way.” Noleen Whelan had pointed out to her husband as they all sat around a small wooden table in their two room cottage.

“We won’t have to.” Colman smiled. “Passage will be paid when we arrive.”

“How’s that?” Aeden asked.

Frowning at his family’s questions, Colman got up and warmed his hands in front of the narrow fireplace. “The captain will contract with a local land owner for our services.”

Bryce gasped. “You can’t mean to do this. I’ve heard of people losing their entire lives in service.” She looked at her mother. “You can’t want this.”

Noleen was a slender woman. Her light blonde hair had thinned over the years and her once vivid blue eyes were sunken and dull from years of work and worry. “I - we’ll do as your father says.”

Bryce shook her head. “I’m nearly thirty, I don’t have to do what he says.”

A sharp pain shot across Bryce’s cheek and she found herself on the floor, her father looming over her. “You’re not married. That means I’m still responsible for you.” The man’s hands were balled into fists at his sides.

Aeden pulled Bryce to her feet, scowling at his father. “You’re an arse!”

Colman glared at his two children. “Ungrateful dossers! I’ve kept you fed and clothed and this is how you repay me.”

Aeden helped the still stunned Bryce back into her chair. “We’ve worked since we could walk, so you shut your mouth!”

Taking a step toward his father, Aeden felt a hand around his arm. His mother’s eyes pleading with him. “Please. Let it be.”

Aeden’s eyes darted between his mother and father. His entire life had been spent conceding his point of view to his father’s. Not out of respect for the man - his father was a vicious drunk - but rather for the unfaltering love he had for his mother. His mother was like most women, living with choices that were not entirely her own.

Leaning down, Aeden quickly kissed Noleen’s cheek. “For you.” Glaring at his father, the blood rising to his face, the man practically snarled at Colman. “Never for him.” Looking at Bryce, Aeden put his hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Bryce rubbed her burning cheek and nodded. “Yes.” She looked at her father. “I’m going for Mother and Aeden.” She stood. “You can go to hell.”

The Whelans had made the nearly two month long journey across the Atlantic. Arriving in Boston in the summer of 1773, they had been quickly contracted with a farmer who owned a hundred acre plot of land northwest of the city, near Lexington.

Bryce had been assigned as a house maid and realized quickly that in spite of the circumstances, her living conditions were better than what she had in Ireland. She told herself at least they always had food and a place to sleep. Aeden and her father worked in the fields and her mother helped in the kitchen. Bryce felt fortunate the family had managed to stay together and had not been contracted to different families.

“Did you hear me?” Aeden’s voice broke into Bryce’s remembrances.

“What?” She forced her attention back to her brother.

“I said I don’t give a damn about the contract.” Aeden began walking again, his sister following close behind.

“Well, you should. We are clearly forbidden to marry while under contract and the penalty for breaking the rules can be death.” The pair stopped at the split in the walking path. One direction lead to the main house and the other to the stables were Aeden would ready the plow horses.

“Aren’t you tired of other people’s rules?” Aeden took Bryce’s cold hand. “Don’t you want something that’s your own?”

Bryce pulled her hand away. “You’re talking nonsense. Nothing is ours until we pay our debt.”

Aeden sighed heavily. “You mean Father’s debt.” The man looked off into the distance. The sky was beginning to take on a pinkish glow in the east. “Five years. It may as well be a hundred.”

Bryce didn’t know what to say. She wished she could comfort her brother, who seemed, as of late, increasingly restless and agitated. “I’m sorry.” It was true, but she knew the truth was of little solace to a man who wanted his life to begin in earnest.

Managing a weak smile, Aeden hugged Bryce. “I’m sorry for you, too.” He kissed the top of her head. “You must want more. A husband, children.”

Bryce stepped back and though her heart shouted at her to correct her brother, to tell him she didn’t want any of that, she nodded. “I do.”

Looking at the sky, Aeden turned toward the stable. “We’re very late. I’ll see you tonight.” He left her standing in the dark, wondering how she could love him so much, trust him with her life, but not be able to share her most secret thoughts and desires with him.

Walking toward the large, two story stone house that sat atop a slight hill, Bryce had been shocked by recent revelations about who she wanted to spend her life with and feared her brother would be, too.

Hope Atherson was the only daughter of James Atherson. His wife Claire had died in child birth and the man adored his daughter, while wielding a heavy hand with his oldest child and only son, Thaddeus. The second day Bryce had been working in the Atherson house she had seen a large portrait of a woman in her thirties, with dark, chestnut colored hair and intense light brown eyes. She had learned this was the late Mrs. Atherson, and her daughter could pass as her younger self.

Based on her experience with wealthy families in Ireland, Bryce had assumed the Athersons would pay her little attention, short of instructing her on their preferences for how the silver should be polished and when they wanted their beds turned down at night.

“Your name is Bryce?” Hope Atherson had asked while Bryce was hanging washed sheets along the clothes line behind the house.

“Yes, miss.” Bryce stopped what she was doing and holding the damp sheet in front of her, looked at the ground. Her mother had taught her never to make eye contact with the masters.

“I like it. It’s different.” Bryce could hear the smile in the woman’s voice and worked up the courage to make eye contact with her.

Bryce’s green eyes were met by intense brown ones that seemed to swirl as flecks of light skittered across the irises. “It was my great grandfather’s. He fought in the Irish Rebellion.” She couldn’t hide the pride in her voice and, feeling self-conscious, blushed as she looked back down.

“That’s fascinating. I don’t have any interesting family stories. My grandfather came over from England, bought the land our house is built on, and then he bought more land, and - well -” Looking across the fields she shrugged. “Here we are.”

Bryce knew there must be more skill to amassing the sort of wealth the Atherson family had and found Hope’s casualness about her station in life odd. Bryce had nothing and couldn’t imagine being so flippant about having every need and want met.

“It’s lovely, miss.” Bryce managed through a tight throat. She hadn’t spoken to anyone but her family and a few of the other servants since she had arrived nearly a month ago. The last person she thought would be interested in talking to her was the mistress of the house.

“It truly is.” Hope’s response came barely above a whisper and when Bryce looked up at the woman, there was a glint in her eyes that Bryce didn’t understand, but she felt her heart pounding in her chest because of it.

***

Entering through the servant’s entrance at the back of the house, Bryce was greeted by Mrs. Bradley,  the head housekeeper. She managed Bryce, two other girls, and Bryce’s mother in their daily chores.

“Miss Whelan, you’re late.” Even though the woman was two inches shorter than Bryce, and nearly as round as she was tall, her attitude commanded respect.

“It won’t happen again, ma’am.” Bryce hung her makeshift shawl on a wooden peg just inside the door and stomped her feet on the stone floor to remove any loose snow and mud. Catching her mother’s disapproving look from across the kitchen, the redhead mouthed she was sorry and knew she would hear from her mother on the topic later.

“See that it doesn’t, Miss Whelan, or I shall have to tell Mr. Atherson.” The plump woman resumed her work in the kitchen as she and another woman named Gladys went about meal preparation. “Miss Atherson left a note that you’re to take her breakfast up this morning. She likes the tray waiting for her, so you will take it up at half past the hour.” The woman looked at Bryce, her eyes narrowing. “Do you understand?”

Bryce nodded, left the kitchen, and began making her way through the house. Every morning, she would open the thick curtains she had closed the night before. Mr. Atherson insisted on this exercise every night in the winter. It kept the house warmer as the dense upholstery of the chocolate colored drapes blocked the drafts that seeped through the window panes.

It took Bryce nearly a half hour to finish with the drapes, and by the time she returned to the kitchen it was time to take Hope her breakfast. Without a word, she picked the silver tray up from the wood block at the center of the kitchen and began walking toward the back stairway.

Looking over the contents of the tray, Bryce smiled. Hope was a creature of habit, and Bryce had never known her to eat anything but dried apricots, one poached egg, and two toast points for breakfast. She liked her tea at room temperature with a teaspoon of sugar.

Pushing the latch on the door to Hope’s room with her elbow, Bryce balanced the tray as she used her hip to open and then close the large wooden door. The sun had been up for almost an hour, but the bedroom was still cloaked in relative darkness because the heavy drapes were still drawn.

The room was larger than the entire Whelan house in Ireland. Its walls were painted a robin’s egg blue with raspberry trim along the edges of the wall paneling. Hope’s bed was large, with a thick down stuffed mattress and mahogany headboard. Placing the tray on the light oak vanity nearest the bed, Bryce crossed the room and pulled the drapes open.

“Oh, I’m still so tired.” Hope’s voice was low and sleepy as she pulled the white duvet over her head.

“It’s seven thirty, miss.” The few times Hope had asked for her to bring her breakfast, this had always been the greeting she received. “You don’t want to sleep the day away.”

Hope pushed the duvet down so only her legs were covered, revealing the thin white sleeveless shift she wore. She rubbed her hands over her face and sitting up, looked closely at Bryce. “Please don’t call me miss.”

Bryce blushed. “Sorry. Habit.”

Hope slid to the edge of the bed and took the tray from Bryce. Putting it on the end of the bed, she took Bryce’s hands in hers. Bring the redhead’s fingers to her lips, she gently sucked on the tip of Bryce’s index finger. A quiet moan escaped the woman as she slid the entirety of Bryce’s finger into the warmth of her mouth.

Bryce’s knees felt wobbly, as if they might give out on her. She closed her eyes in an effort to stop the room from spinning. Seconds later, Hope was pulling her forward and down on top of her as they fell back on the bed. Hope took Bryce’s face in her hands and pressed her lips to Bryce’s, her tongue slipping past the woman’s full lips.

“You’re amazing.” The brunette murmured as her mouth made its way to Bryce’s neck.

The sound of a door slamming down the hall brought Bryce to her senses. This had been the way of it for Hope and her for the past three months. What had started as titillating and confusing flirtations had escalated to stolen kisses and intimate touches.

Bryce had kissed women before. Innocent girlhood crushes when she was still a teenager, but she had never known the longing and want Hope triggered in her. She was in love for the first time in her life, and she wanted more, though she scarcely knew what that meant.

“Why are you stopping?” Hope looked at Bryce, her brown eyes unfocused by desire.

“Someone might come.” Bryce mustered all her will and pushed away from the beautiful woman. Standing up, she straightened her skirt and smoothed her hair.

With an expression akin to a pout, Hope got out of bed. “You always stop.”

She was right. As much as Bryce wanted her, her upbringing forced her to be cautious and untrusting of anything that might be a source of happiness for her. Hope and she could never be together. Besides being two women, they inhabited two entirely different worlds.

“I’m sorry, miss.” Bryce forced back tears as she walked toward the door.

Grabbing her wrist, Hope spun Bryce around and pulled the woman to her. “Don’t call me miss and don’t apologize for wanting - this.” She roughly pressed Bryce’s hand to her breast.

In a rare unguarded moment, Bryce initiated a kiss. Her lips brushing lightly across Hope’s, her tongue teasing the woman. A knock on the bedroom door drove both women away from each other and Bryce quickly stepped toward the door. Hope turned her attention toward the otherwise forgotten breakfast tray.

“Come in.” Her voice was calm, Bryce was amazed at how easily she slipped back into her mistress role.

Mrs. Bradley entered the room, a disapproving look on her face as she eyed Bryce. “Forgive the intrusion, ma’am , but if you aren’t needing her any longer, Miss Whelan has chores to attend to.”

Without looking back, Hope popped a dried apricot in her mouth and nodded. “That’s fine.”

Bryce turned and followed Mrs. Bradley out of the room. Once down the hall, the stout woman turned to Bryce. “I don’t know what about delivering a breakfast tray takes fifteen minutes, but whatever it is, stop.”

A surge of blood rushed to Bryce’s neck and face as she felt a wave of fear and embarrassment wash over her. Luckily, Mrs. Bradley had already turned and was walking toward the back stairway, so she didn’t witness the mortification.

Leaning against the wall, Bryce’s heart pounded in her ears. She knows. Sweat formed on her forehead and she lifted her head, taking several deep breaths before she trusted herself to walk without fainting.

“Miss Whelan? Are you okay?” Thaddeus Atherson was standing near the front stairway, looking curiously at Bryce.

“Yes. Yes, sir.” Bryce wiped at her forehead and turned to walk toward the back stairway.

“Wait.” The man closed the space between them in several long strides. He was over six feet tall, with broad shoulders and the same light brown eyes as his sister. “You don’t seem well. Should I get someone?”

Bryce shook her head. “That’s very kind, sir, but I’m fine.”

Before she could leave, the man grabbed her forearm and stepped to within inches of Bryce. “Perhaps you need to lie down? My room is right here.” He nodded toward his bedroom door.

Bryce’s earlier humiliation was replaced with fear. She had noticed Thaddeus looking at her from time to time, but hadn’t imagined this. “No thank you, sir. Mrs. Bradley would have my hide.”

Stepping back, Bryce looked at the man’s hand still wrapped around her arm. Just before he released her, he squeezed her arm to the point of pain and Bryce winced. “Some other time perhaps.” Backing down the hall, a broad smile spread across his lips. “You take care of yourself, Miss Whelan.”

Wanting nothing more than to run down the hall, Bryce forced a polite smile, and then slowly walked toward the stairs, her heart pounding as tears streamed down her face.

***

It was the middle of July. The frigidness of the winter and the chill of spring had long since passed, and the Atherson farm was teeming with activity as the last crop of cherries were being harvested.

James Atherson had been hosting the area’s largest harvest celebration for the past five seasons, and this year would be no different. Mrs. Bradley was preparing the house staff for the upcoming gala and every servant was enlisted to decorate the large estate in a variety of floral and pine garlands accented with opulent blue and red cotton ribbons.

Bryce was walking up the main path toward the house when she spotted Aeden placing a series of brass lanterns along an adjacent walkway. Glancing toward the house and calculating she had another five minutes before Mrs. Bradley came looking for her, the woman trotted toward her brother.

“Can you believe all this?” Bryce smiled as she greeted Aeden.

Rising from his knees, the man wiped at the sweat on his brow and, shielding his eyes against the midday sun, chuckled. “I spent the better part of last week gathering all the pine, berries, and branches for the garland. At one point I thought the foreman was going to ask me to arrange it.”

Bryce smiled. “I’m sure you could have worked it out.”

Taking the handles of the two wheel wooden cart that still had five lanterns sitting on it, Aeden pushed it further down the walkway. “To be clear, I didn’t want to work it out. I would have preferred the work in the fields to feeling like a Miss Molly with all those flowers and ribbons.”

Bryce frowned. “Miss Molly?”

Aeden pulled another lantern from the cart. “Yeah, you know - boys that like boys.”

Bryce’s cheeks flushed with color. She had never heard anyone speak of such a thing, much less her brother. “Oh. I didn’t know.” Her heart was racing and she swallowed several times to rid herself of the lump that was suddenly forming in her throat.

“Well, why would you?” Aeden moved further down the walkway.

“Why do you know about that?” Bryce feigned interest in the cart’s faded and warn wooden handle, picking at it with her nail. She didn’t have the courage to make eye contact with her brother.

Shaking his head, Aeden sighed. “I live in a room with ten other men. You’re bound to run into one every once in a while.” Lifting the cart again, the four remaining lanterns clattered. “His name is Abner, and he’s got his comeuppance more than once.”

“But you haven’t hit him, have you?” Bryce needed her brother to be understanding, even if that understanding was once removed from her and toward a practical stranger.

“Nah, I just steer clear of him.” Aeden turned his full attention to his sister. “Why are you asking me about this?”

Bryce focused so her tone would be as casual as possible, less it betray the turmoil swirling inside her. “Like I said, I hadn’t heard that word before.” Looking over her shoulder at the house, she was suddenly grateful for the threat of Mrs. Bradley coming after her. “I have to go, or I’ll get it.”

Aeden cocked his head to the side and studied his sister for a second. “Well go on, then.”

Without a word, Bryce turned and hurried toward the house. Entering the coolness of the front parlor, she felt a thin hand grab her wrist and pull her toward the cloak room. She was being inundated with a series of urgent kisses and caresses, each sending shots of heat to her stomach.

“Where have you been?” Hope’s voice was strained as she sucked on Bryce’s earlobe.

Barely able to catch her breath, Bryce managed a response. “The party. Mrs. Bradley has us all working from -”

Her response was cut short when Hope crushed her mouth to Bryce’s. Her hand found the redhead’s firm breast and palmed it roughly through her blouse. Hissing at the raw arousal coursing through her, it was all Bryce could do to stay on her feet.

“Come to my chambers tonight, after you pull the drapes.” Hope panted the words against Bryce’s neck.

“I can’t.” Bryce whispered. “My mother and I leave the house together.”

Taking Bryce’s lower lip between her teeth, the brunette bit down gently, a soft moan escaping Bryce. “Find a way.”

As suddenly as she was there, Hope was gone. Leaving Bryce near collapse with want and wondering how she could fulfill Hope's, and her, desires.

***

Bryce had never left her room after lights out and the stillness of the late night air sent a shiver down her spine. She had managed to slip back into her clothes, while listening carefully to her mother’s quiet snores to ensure the woman was asleep. Now, in near darkness, she hurried toward the Atherson house, and Hope.

Slowly pulling the iron door latch on the servant’s entrance up, Bryce carefully pushed the wooden door open just enough to allow her to enter the house. Once inside, she waited several seconds for her eyes to adjust. Without the ambient light of the quarter moon, the house was pitch black.

Feeling her way along the stucco wall, Bryce found the banister of the back stairway and began her ascent, careful to skip the fourth step up as she remembered it creaked loudly when any sort of weight was put on it.

A single candle sat perched in a brass wall sconce, dimly illuminating the hallway. Coming to Hope’s door, Bryce scratched on the hard wood with the tip of her finger, holding her breath with both fear and anticipation.

After nearly a minute, the door opened, a faint light spilling out into the hallway. Without a word, Hope took Bryce by the hand, pulling her into to room and into her arms.

“You came. It was getting late and I thought you -”

Determined not to waste a second of their time together with conversation, Bryce kissed Hope. Her tongue moved into the warmth of the woman’s mouth, eliciting a quiet gasp from the brunette. Turning, the two women walked back toward Hope’s bed and collapsed onto the soft down mattress.

In only her sleeping shift, the warmth of Hope’s skin burned Bryce’s hands as she greedily ran them up and down the woman’s body. Hope tugged at Bryce’s skirts, trying to liberate her from the layers of clothing.

“I want you.” Hope gasped, her mouth sucking and biting at Bryce’s neck.

The pleasure coursing through Bryce’s body was suddenly replaced with a sharp pain at the back of her neck as if her head had been placed in a large metal vise. Pulled off of Hope, Bryce found herself being flung across the room, her bones jarred by the impact with the floor.

“What the hell is this?!” Thaddeus Atherson’s imposing frame towered over Bryce. Managing to get herself to her knees, she looked pleadingly at Hope, who was still sitting on the bed, her eyes darting nervously from Bryce to her brother.

The man’s hands were like claws at his sides, his face a deep red as he seethed with anger. “Answer me!” He swung, the back of his right hand striking Bryce along her jaw, setting a ringing off in her ears.

Bryce scrambled backwards on her hands and heels until the stone hearth of the fireplace pushed into her shoulders. “Please, I-”

“She forced her way in, Thad. I didn’t know what it was about until she had me trapped.” Hope was standing next to her brother, her arm hooked through his as she looked accusedly at the cowering woman on the floor.

Bryce’s eyes filled with tears as the shock of Hope’s assertion stabbed at her. “Hope, why?”

Wrenching his arm away from his sister’s, Thaddeus shoved the woman to the side. “Spare me your excuses, sister. This isn’t the first time you’ve indulged in these perversions!”

Hope grabbed for her brother’s hand. “Please, Thad, I’m innocent this time.”

Bryce’s mind was racing at the revelation Hope had been with other women. Her heart ached to know she clearly cared more for the woman than was returned. These thoughts became distant echoes as Thaddeus grabbed her by the ankle and pulled her across the room toward the bed.

“You’d do best to leave, sister, while I correct this Irish slut.” The man’s massive hand came down on top of Bryce’s head and, grabbing a handful of her hair, pulled her to her feet.

Reaching for his hand, Bryce dug her nails into the man’s wrist. A split second later, Thaddeus punched Bryce squarely in the stomach. The room began to spin as the woman was pushed onto the bed, a series of dry heaves racking her body.

“Stop this!” Hope’s voice seemed a thousand miles away as a heavy weight settled over Bryce. Her skirts were pushed up to her waist and rough hands scratched and clutched at her bare legs.

A low thud came from the back of the man’s head and his weight was suddenly gone. Rolling to her side, Bryce gasped for breath. Struggling to focus, she saw Hope standing with her back to the fireplace, a black iron poker in her hand.

With what sounded like a growl, Thaddeus charged his sister, his girth obscuring Bryce’s view of the woman. After several seconds, the man stumbled toward the door rubbing the back of his head.

Bryce slid from the bed onto the floor, her legs limp and lifeless. Desperate to escape, she clutched the mahogany bed post and pulled herself up. She couldn’t process what she was seeing. Hope’s sagging body lay in front of the fireplace, her head at an awkward angle against the stone hearth, a trickle of blood coming from her left ear.

Bryce’s emotions skittered and tumbled. Her stomach curdled with grief and shock at seeing the woman she loved lifeless. Her mind snapped at her heart to remember Hope’s coldness and the cunning in her voice as she denied Bryce meant anything to her. The all too brief happiness Bryce had known with the beautiful woman was poisoned by her betrayal.

“Father!” Thaddeus’ voice filled the house. “Father! Come quickly! A servant has murdered Hope!”

Bryce’s eyes shot from Hope’s motionless body to the bellowing man. He meant to blame her for this, and there was little she could do to stop him. She would end up in the gallows.

With little thought to the consequences, Bryce grabbed the fireplace poker from next to Hope and with all her strength she ran toward Thaddeus, striking him on the back of the head.

Crying out in pain and shock, the man stumbled into the hallway. Bryce seized the opportunity and bolted past him. In a full run, she didn’t recall how she navigated the stairway, but she was now sprinting through the field toward the men’s dormitory. She had to find her brother.

Nearly collapsing against the side of the wooden shack that housed the men, Bryce’s lungs burned from the nearly quarter mile sprint. Looking back toward the house, she could see light coming from nearly every window as the house was coming alive with the news of Hope’s death.

Pushing propriety aside, Bryce flung open the thin wood door of the dormitory and walked quickly down the narrow walkway lined with sleeping men. The smell of pungent sweat and musk tickled her nostrils and panic washed over her as the image of Thaddeus on top of her flashed across her mind.

“Bryce?” A groggy Aeden was getting out of his narrow cot. The grumblings of the other men filling the small room.

“Aeden! I didn’t - but he’s said I -” Her eyes burned with tears.

Taking her by the shoulders, Aeden guided her toward the door and back out into the night air. “Breathe. Just breathe. What’s happened?”

Bryce felt like she was drowning; no matter how much air she took in, she couldn’t catch her breath. Starting to feel lightheaded, she was grateful when Aeden managed to get her over to a small wooden bench and sit her down.

Squatting in front of her on his haunches, her brother was bare chested with a thin, off-white pair of knee-length underwear on. Gently wiping at Bryce’s tear streaked face, Aeden’s voice was low and soothing. “Relax. What’s this about?”

Bryce didn’t have the strength to lie, and she couldn’t image her brother’s reaction being any worse than what she had just been through. “Hope and I were sweethearts, but mister - Thaddeus - found us together, and he’s killed her in a rage and blamed me.”

Aeden’s mouth hung open in shock. Standing up, he looked down at Bryce and then towards the house. “When did this happen?”

Standing, Bryce reached for her brother’s hand and was overjoyed that he didn’t pull away from her. “Just now. I have to run.”

Aeden nodded. “We need to get you out of here. Hurry. Once they realize you’re not in your room, they’ll head this way.” He turned and held his hand up in front of him. “Wait here. You shouldn’t be traipsing through a men’s room.”

Ringing her hands together, Bryce waited along the side of the dormitory as Aeden had instructed. After a few minutes, her brother emerged, fully dressed with a small cloth sack in his hand. “Let’s get to the stable.”

Without a word, the two siblings ran through the darkness. Opening one of the stalls, Aeden led a chestnut mare toward the tack room and buckled a halter around her head. Handing Bryce the cloth bag, he easily mounted the horse and reached for Bryce. “Come on.”

Grabbing her brother’s hand, Bryce leapt up and with Aeden’s help, was secured behind him on the horse. “Where are we going?” She wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Don’t worry about that now, just hang on!” A series of lunges and Aeden was guiding the horse out of the barn and away from the Atherson house.

After nearly an hour, and with her back and arm muscles aching from clinging to both the horse and her brother, Bryce was relieved when Aeden slowed the mare to a walk. Guiding the horse off the road, the man dismounted and helped Bryce down.

Her legs were shaking from both fear and fatigue, and she was having trouble staying upright. “Can I sit?”

Shaking his head, Aeden took the cloth bag from his sister. “No. There isn’t time. There are some provisions and two schillings in the bag.”

Bryce’s brow arched. “Where did you get two schillings?”

“This isn’t the time.” Aeden handed the mare’s reins to Bryce and seeing the confused look on her face, rolled his eyes. “I might have gambled a bit here and there.”

Hardly in a position to take the moral high road, Bryce didn’t say anything as her brother helped her back onto the horse. “Now, you just follow this road for another hour and you’ll be in Boston.” He rested his hand on Bryce’s knee. “You should be able to sell the horse and find a place to stay in one of the boarding houses. I’ll come find you when things blow over.”

Even in the pale moonlight, Bryce could see the tears in her brother’s eyes. “What if things don’t blow over?”

Looking up at his sister, a woman he had known his entire life, Aeden wanted nothing more than to protect her from the world, not send her unattended and alone into its clutches. “I’ll find you no matter what.” Stepping back from the horse, Aeden and Bryce looked at each other, knowing how much they meant to each other.

“I love you.” Bryce couldn’t remember the last time she had said this to her brother. The business of their days and the unhappiness with their circumstances had always been hanging over them, never leaving time for sentimental moments. Now, with their separation imminent and her death a real possibility, she wished she had told him every day how much he meant to her.

A smile spread across Aeden’s lips as he squeezed Bryce’s knee. “I love you, too. Now, get out of here.” He slapped the mare’s rear flank, sending Bryce running into the night and an uncertain future.

Chapter 11

It had been ten months since Bryce fled the Atherson farm in the dead of night. She had arrived in Boston in the predawn hours and after two failed attempts, had managed to find a livery stable that was willing to buy a horse from a woman.

She had no choice but to accept the five pounds the merchant offered, as she was desperate for money and had no real idea what the value of a horse was. Boston was a strange and chaotic place for Bryce. Her family had only briefly resided in the city while waiting for placement when they first arrived in the Colonies. Without the familiarity of her parents and brother to console her, she had wandered the streets feeling more alone than she could have imagined.

Resolved not to spend another night on the streets of Boston, Bryce had found a home in a local boarding house and managed to find work in the Green Dragon Pub. Spirits were high as talk of revolution filled the city and Bryce felt energized by the hope and courage that surrounded her.

“What do you mean I have to leave?” Bryce stood with her shoulders squared as she glared at Mrs. Smead. The woman was nearly sixty, her hair thin wisps of gray that she wore pulled back in a tight knot at the base of her neck. Her skin had a leathery texture to it and clearly the woman had spent extensive time outside at some point in her life.

“What I said then. I won’t have any trouble here, and with that place you work, I can’t be sure you aren’t bringing that rebel riffraff home with ya. The Green Dragon, what a name.” The woman’s lips were tinted a dark brown from the tobacco sticks she frequently chewed. Bryce found it ironic a woman who ran a glorified brothel was worried about political dissenters mucking up her house.

“I’ve paid through the end of the week.” Bryce asserted.

“Right, here you are.” The woman reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled three schillings out, dropping them in Bryce’s outstretched hand.

“This isn’t fair.” Bryce looked at the coins in the palm of her hand.

“Fair or not, you’re out. My house. My rules.” The woman turned and walked back up her stoop. “Collect your things and be gone before supper.” The leathery woman shut the door behind her and Bryce stood, stunned, in the middle of the street. After gathering the few possessions she had, the redhead made her way down Union Street looking for new accommodations. It was nearly dark and the last thing she wanted was to spend a night on the streets.

Near dusk, she saw a small board with the words Rooms for Ladies propped up against a narrow row house a few blocks over from Union Street. Though Bryce couldn’t read, she had managed to memorize the visual appearance of several words and phrases. Knowing what to look for when seeking a place to stay had been one of the first things she had learned when arriving in Boston.

Walking up to the stone stoop, she climbed the four steps and knocked firmly on a faded green door. After nearly a minute, a series of clicks came from the other side of the door and then it opened. A woman in her late thirties stood in front of Bryce. She was wearing a light blue skirt and brown jacket. Her long raven colored hair was pulled up in a bun that rested on top of her head. Bryce marveled at the smoothness of her olive toned skin and the intensity of the brown eyes studying her.

“Can I help you?” The woman’s voice was light and breathy when she spoke.

“I - I came about your rooms.” Bryce cleared her throat, unsure why the woman made her nervous.

“You’re Irish?” The woman’s brow furrowed.

“Aye.” Bryce had encountered issues with her lineage when she was initially looking for housing. The stereotypes painting the Irish as disorderly drunks, although entirely untrue in her case, were alive and well throughout Boston.

“Are you alone? Husband? Family?” The dark haired woman pressed.

Shaking her head, Bryce looked passed the woman and into the darkened house. “My people are all dead.” She lied. “But I have a job and can pay ahead.”

The dark haired woman ran her eyes from Bryce’s mud encrusted shoes up to her head as the two women stood in an awkward silence for several seconds.

“Fine. A pound, due the first day of the month - no exceptions.” Turning her back to Bryce, the woman walked back inside, leaving the door ajar.

Clutching her small cloth bag to her chest, Bryce followed the woman inside. The house was unimpressive. It consisted of a single hallway with numerous rooms shooting off to the right and left and what looked like a small kitchen at the back of the house. There were very few windows; the ones there had bubbled and muddied panes, so that the light was fractured and dim. The stairway to the left of the door had a badly warped and scarred banister.

“Follow me.” The woman walked up the stairs, each step creaking as she and Bryce ascended. The remnants of white paint was cracked and peeling from the walls and there was a faint floral scent in the air that Bryce couldn’t identify. “I have one room left as there are two other boarders. You share a bathroom, which is at the end of the hall. The privy is through the kitchen, behind the house.”

Stopping in front of a faded wooden door, the woman turned to Bryce, her hand extended. The redhead frowned. Realizing the purpose of the gesture after a moment, she reached into her bag and produced a pound.

“I’m Abitha Lanson.” The woman opened the bedroom door.

“Bryce Whelan.”

Without a word, the woman walked past Bryce and back down the stairs. Confused by how aloof her new landlord was, Bryce resolved to keep a low profile, pay her rent on time, and avoid unwanted attention. Her commitment to blending in had kept her out of prison thus far, and she still held out hope Aeden would come find her if her name was cleared.

***

“We will not stand for these outrages against our property and our person!” Duncan Alcock pounded his fist into the wooden table that ran the length of the Green Dragon’s basement. He was nearly six feet tall. His skin was pale and smooth, highlighting his light brown hair and piercing blue eyes.

Bryce thought he was more beautiful than handsome. She had heard rumors he was courting several women at once, something his wealth and charm afforded him. He was one of six wealthy land owners gathered in the basement of the Green Dragon pub.

It was common knowledge the pub was owned by the Freemasons and was frequently the site of rousing meetings to discuss the Colonies’ continued strife with England.

Duncan was one of the more vocal members of the Masons and frequently stirred his brethren into fits of indignation and ire over recent acts passed by the British government. This particular evening, the men were discussing their recourse with regards to the Quartering Act.

“I returned from the fields and found ten British soldiers in my home. My wife was beside herself and my children were terrified.” James Lawson’s voice boomed from the back of the room as Bryce navigated the narrow space with a ceramic pitcher of ginger beer.

Bryce sat the heavy pitcher on the end of the table and meant to turn around and go back upstairs to the main room of the pub, but Duncan took her wrist in his cold hand. “Miss.” His smile was broad and his teeth the whitest Bryce had ever seen. “Can you bring us something a little stronger? I’m settlin’ in for some whiskey.”

A flush of heat rose to Bryce’s neck and she averted her eyes. “Yes, sir.”

Hurrying back up the stairs, the hustle and low hum of the patrons on the main floor of the Dragon washed over her. She had grown fond of the pub since starting work there shortly after arriving in Boston.

The establishment was divided into five smaller rooms, with the bar in the back. The walls were adorned with numerous landscape paintings, animal trophies, and weaponry. The dark elm floors and low ceiling could seem claustrophobic at first, but the energy of the place made Bryce feel alive.

Once back upstairs, Bryce removed an unlabeled bottle of liquor from the shelf behind the oak bar and stacked six glasses on a wooden tray.

“Where’s that going?” Angus Daily was a short, round man with a pock-marked face. His red hair was dull, oily, and matted against his head. He had been the barkeep at the Green Dragon for nearly a decade, and Bryce could count on one hand the number of times he actually spoke. His usual method of communicating was a series of eye rolls and exasperated sighs.

“Mr. Alcock has asked for it, sir.” Bryce responded, confident this was a sufficient response given Mr. Alcock’s standing.

Looking at Bryce, and then toward the basement stairs, the heavy set man nodded. Bryce hurried down the stairs, nearly dropping the tray of glasses as she ran into Duncan Alcock near the bottom of the steps.

With a single fluid motion, the statuesque man balanced the tray in his left hand and Bryce with his right arm around her narrow waist. “Careful, that’s good whiskey you were about to waste.” He winked at the flustered woman, and she was shocked when her heartbeat sped up.

“I’d never forgive myself, sir.” Bryce had no idea where the comment came from, or why it sounded like flirting, but she was relieved when the man released her.

“Clever girl.” A look of admiration crossed Duncan’s face as a smile found his perfect lips. “What’s your name?”

Swallowing hard in hopes she could find her voice, Bryce managed to sound more confident than she felt. “Bryce Whelan.”

“Bryce. Lovely name.”

“Duncan, stop it with that girl. We have real business here.” A thin, short man with black hair called after his colleague from across the room.

Handing Bryce the tray, Duncan turned his attentions back to the group of men. Bryce quickly distributed the glasses and the whiskey before dashing back up to the main floor. She had only a few minutes left of work and wanted to get home before curfew.

Boston had been inundated with British troops over the past six months, and moving around the city without being stopped and asked for papers was becoming increasingly more difficult. She had never made the connections needed for forged papers and had left the Athersons without her own.

It was clear from the discourse in the pub, and the increasingly hostile attitudes on the streets, that war was coming. She remembered clearly her father’s story of the Irish Rebellion, when Catholics feared the invasion of anti-Catholic forces from Britain and Scotland. Like the Irish then, the Colonists were feeling the tightening grip of an unfair, authoritative Parliament and King.

“I’m leavin’ then.” Bryce grabbed her shawl from a shelf under the bar. Not expecting a response from Mr. Daily, she didn’t look back as she exited the pub.

It was nearly dark and the street lamps had not been lit yet as Bryce made her way through the streets. Nearing the corner of Union, she stopped when she spotted five British soldiers checking random people for their identification papers.

Turning around, Bryce decided to cut through the alley that ran between the Green Dragon and a neighboring dry goods shop. The ground was uneven and the surrounding buildings blocked the waning light, so Bryce was struggling with her footing.

“You seem a little out of place here.” A man’s voice came from behind Bryce.

Pulling the shawl tighter around her shoulders, the redhead continued walking, hoping if she didn’t acknowledge the stranger he would lose interest. It wasn’t the first time a man had made inappropriate comments to her. The nature of her work made that an inevitability, but outside the pub, and alone in a secluded alley, Bryce struggled to hold her panic at bay.

“Are you lost?” The man’s voice was closer now, but Bryce could see the end of the alley thirty feet ahead of her and began to walk faster.

A heavy hand on her shoulder, and being pulled backward, brought the woman’s forward progress to a halt. The stale smell of body odor and beer wafted over Bryce, forcing her to immediately hold her breath as she struggled to free herself from the man’s grasp.

“Leave me alone!” With all her strength, Bryce pulled away from the man and stumbled forward several feet.

“I just want to help ya.” Seeing the man for the first time did nothing to abate the fear threatening to drown Bryce. His clothes were worn to the point of being rags and his teeth, along with his face, were stained various shades of murky yellow and brown.

“I think we’re done here.” Duncan Alcock’s voice came from behind the vagrant and Bryce nearly cried with relief.

“Mr. Alcock, thank heaven. I was on my way home -” Bryce gushed.

“Run along, Miss. The gentleman and I will work this out.” Bryce’s savior remained behind the other man, cloaked in the shadows of the alley.

Turning around to face Duncan, the would-be attacker waved a dirt encrusted hand in the air. “Never mind, good sir. I was just ensuring the lady got home okay. These are troublin’ times.”

“Troubling indeed, sir.” Duncan stepped forward. He was easily three inches taller than the other man. His eyes seemed to glow in the darkness of the alley and Bryce suppressed a gasp, sure her eyes were deceiving her.

Duncan smiled broadly and without looking away from the man, addressed Bryce. “Head home, Miss Whelan. I’ll ensure this man gets what he has coming to him.”

Still anxious from the quasi-assault, Bryce had no desire to witness any more violence and quickly turned, running toward the street and safety.

***

“You’re back early.” Abitha’s voice came from the parlor off the entrance of the boarding house. The room was small, but had one of the larger windows in the house and Bryce enjoyed the diffused light that filled the room at twilight.

In spite of their cool beginnings, Bryce and Abitha had become friendly since the redhead had moved in over a month ago. Bryce had also forged tentative friendships with the other two lodgers, Margaret and Catherine, and the four women had become something of a family to one another.

“I didn’t want the trouble of the check points, so I left a little early.” Bryce put her cloth bag down next to the front door and joined Abitha in the parlor. She had decided not to tell anyone what had happened, for fear it would cause trouble for Duncan should something horrible befall her assailant.

“There’s food on the stove. Catherine made dinner, so I can’t attest to whether it’s any good.” The woman sat in a tattered, cloth covered easy chair with her legs reclined on a short, leather covered foot stool. She massaged the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger.

Bryce looked at the raven haired woman. She had a way of slighting someone without sounding offensive; Bryce wondered if she even realized she was being cross.

Abitha wasn’t traditionally beautiful by Bryce’s reckoning, but she had a prettiness to her that caught the redhead by surprise. She had scarcely looked at another woman since that horrible night with Hope, but for the first time in nearly a year, she felt the stirrings of desire.

“Are you okay?” Bryce asked. Abitha wasn’t a particularly talkative woman, but she seemed withdrawn and anxious.

Keeping her eyes closed, her head resting against the back of the chair, she nodded. “I’m tired.”

Bryce knelt next to the woman. “Can I bring you anything?” Without thinking, she put her hand over Abitha’s and gently stroked the smoothness of the woman’s skin with her thumb. She was warm and being this close to her, Bryce could smell hints of musk and patchouli.

Abitha opened her eyes, the brown iris seeming to swirl and glisten as she lifted her hand, entwining her fingers with Bryce’s. “You’re kind.”

A nervous smile skittered across Bryce’s lips. She hadn’t been this close to a woman in months, and she felt light headed and a little foolish for how euphoric the nearness of Abitha was making her. “You seem - sad, so I thought -”

Abitha sat up and pulled Bryce over so she was sitting on the stool in front of her. Taking both of Bryce’s hands in hers, the woman seemed to marvel at them, turning the over so she could examine the palms.

“You’ve had a hard life.” Abitha ran her index finger across the center of Bryce’s palm, sending a jolt of heat up the redhead’s arm. Frowning, Abitha’s eyes narrowed and she studied Bryce’s palm more closely. “You’re going to have a very long life.” Looking up at Bryce, the woman smiled. “Almost unnaturally so.”

Bryce swallowed. Her mouth had suddenly gone dry. Her heart felt as if it might beat out of her chest. “That can’t be a bad thing.”

Abitha leaned forward and before Bryce realized what was happening, the woman’s warm lips were pressed to hers. The tip of Abitha’s tongue pushed into Bryce’s mouth, and Abitha couldn’t stifle the low moan that escaped her.

A quiet cough came from the hall, and Bryce pulled back as if she had been burned. A young man stood in the parlor doorway, his face expressionless as he looked at the two women.

“Is supper ready?” Aaron Lanson was Abitha’s seventeen-year-old son. She told Bryce her husband had died of consumption when the child was only three and left her alone with the boy and a house to manage. Bryce’s heart had ached for the woman, and she hoped her company, along with that of Margaret and Catherine’s, gave the single mother some comfort.

Aaron was a slight boy and, like his mother, had raven black hair that had a slight curl to it. His eyes were slightly disproportional to the rest of his face and gave the impression the boy was perpetually surprised. The color of his eyes was what Bryce had noticed when she first met him. Their deep, radiant blue gave the boy an almost ethereal quality.

“It’s on the stove.” Abitha said casually, still holding Bryce’s hand. Without a word, the boy left the room.

“I’m sorry.” Bryce wasn’t sure she had done anything wrong since Abitha had initiated the kiss, but the awkwardness and embarrassment of having her son see them, forced the apology from Bryce’s lips.

“Why?” Abitha tilted her head to the side and studied Bryce closely.

“I mean, Aaron and -”

Shaking her head, Abitha released Bryce’s hands and leaned back in the chair. “It’s not a problem.”

Bryce’s brow arched in surprise. “He doesn’t mind?”

The corner of Abitha’s mouth turned up as she looked toward the hall. “We each have our own interests.”

Bryce wasn’t sure what the woman meant, but was relieved to not have had a repeat of what transpired at the Atherson house when she and Hope had been found out. “Are - are you fine with it, too?” She didn’t love Abitha, but she was certainly attracted to her and the idea of not having to sneak around only added to the woman’s appeal.

Sitting up, Abitha leaned forward, running her finger lightly along Bryce’s jaw and then down her neck. “You are beautiful.”

Bryce’s neck flushed a crimson red and, not able to stop herself, she kissed Abitha. Cupping the back of Abitha’s neck, Bryce pulled her closer. The warmth of the other woman’s mouth caused Bryce’s body to tremble. She had struggled with her feelings for Hope, and the woman’s secrecy had only added to Bryce’s shame.

Abitha’s openness about her wants and desires stirred something in Bryce. For the first time in her life she felt empowered by what made her different, not frightened by it.

***

It was April 19, 1775, and Bryce was running late for her work at the Green Dragon. With a light shawl draped over her shoulders, she hurried down the uneven and muddied streets of Boston just before sunset.

Rounding the corner of Union Street, she began to hear raised voices coming from outside the pub. The street was crowded with nearly fifty men and some women and people were being jostled about in the congestion.

“What’s happening?” Bryce asked an older woman who stood cautiously on the outskirts of the crowd.

“The war has happened.” The woman took Bryce’s hand in hers. “The bloody backs are being pushed from Lexington.” Shuttering, the stranger released Bryce’s hand. “They’ll be in Boston soon - by the hundreds!”

Bryce took a step back. Her family was in Lexington, and she had no way of finding out if they were safe. Tears filled her eyes as she feared for their lives.

“Miss Whelan, what are you doing out on a night like this?” Duncan Alcock was standing directly beside Bryce. She started, wondering how he had gotten so close to her without her noticing. It had been a week since the incident in the alley, and she hadn’t seen the man. Now she felt compelled to thank him for his assistance.

“Mr. Alcock, I was coming in for work. But first, I want to thank you for -”

The man held his hand up, a genuine smile on his face. “There’s no need. I did what any gentleman would.” He reached for Bryce’s hand. “Ladies in distress are my specialty.”

Bryce felt a surge of heat flood her neck and face and for a split second, a light flashed across Duncan’s eyes. Bryce took a half step back, her bare hand still resting in Duncan’s gloved one.

The man smirked. “Go home, Miss Whelan. All hell is about to break loose. Lock your doors and windows. The British will withdrawal into the city in an attempt to hold it and our boys will give chase.” He looked around the crowd. “The streets won’t be safe.” He reached into the inner pocket of his navy blue, knee-length coat and pulled a small paper card out. “This is my address should you need to call on me.”

Bryce’s brow furrowed as she took the paper from the man’s hand. Their fingers touched, and the coldness of Duncan’s skin sent a shiver up Bryce’s back. Looking at the paper, she shook her head. “I - I can’t read this, sir.”

The man’s eyes narrowed as he studied Bryce closely. “It’s the white and gray two story near the corner of Milk and Bishops. Can you find that?”

Nodding, Bryce shoved the paper into her pocket. “Yes, sir, but I shouldn’t think to bother you -”

Duncan frowned. “How is it a bother when I’ve asked?”

Unable to counter the man’s argument, Bryce nodded again. “Thank you, but I live with several other women - so, I’m certain we’ll be fine.”

A faint smile passed across the handsome man’s face. “It’s an open invitation - should the need arise.”

“Why are you so worried, sir?” Bryce’s curiosity got the better of her and she couldn’t help but speak her mind.

The corner of the man’s mouth twitched slightly as he looked intently at Bryce. “War is a dangerous business, Miss. Whelan. I would hate to see you caught up in it.”

The answer was cryptic and in spite of Duncan’s reassuring tone, Bryce still felt uneasy about the man’s sudden interest in her well-being.

“I’ll be careful. Thank you.” She stepped back and, turning quickly, walked away from the pub and towards the boarding house.

By the time Bryce reached her home, she had nearly broken into a full on run. Cannon shots echoed in the distance and the threats Duncan had spoken of were quickly becoming a reality. Her hand shook as she slid the key into the front door. Lifting the latch, she stepped inside, shutting the door behind her.

Leaning against the wall, Bryce took several calming breaths. The house was quiet except for what sounded like footsteps coming from the second floor. She was rarely in the house during the early evening, but was surprised no one was downstairs eating or even preparing supper.

Dropping her bag near the front door, Bryce walked up the stairs. She needed to find Abitha and ensure she knew the seriousness of what was happening. There was a very real possibility British soldiers would take up residence in the city and a boarding house was an ideal location.

The door to Abitha’s room was cracked. Bryce meant to knock, but stopped when she heard a series of low, throaty moans coming from the bedroom. Peering through the narrow opening, Bryce felt a wave of nausea and heat surge through her body as she stumbled backward.

Covering her mouth, she stifled a cry, and quickly descended the stairs, grabbed her bag, and rushed out into the street. Her arms and legs were shaking as she tried to force the image of Abitha, Catherine, and Margaret naked, sweaty, and writhing together in Abitha’s bed out of her mind.

Stopping at the corner, Bryce didn’t register the unusually dense foot traffic as people pushed past her, clearly trying to flee the city. Her body was both overheated and numb with shock. An image of the scene shot through her head and without warning, she bent over and heaved.

She wasn’t hypocritical enough to care that Abitha was cavorting with other women, or prudish enough to judge the multiple partners. What had turned her stomach was seeing a naked Aaron, prone between his mother and the other two women.

The foursome had been lying in Abitha’s bed, countless candles burning in every corner of the room, their bodies covered in what Bryce thought might be blood. The scene had been unsightly and wicked.

The faint light from the west was fading and Bryce was faced with being on the street because she refused to return to Abitha’s house. The cannon fire from earlier was louder and she feared what might come of her once the city was overrun with British soldiers.

With few options, and most of her money still in her room back at the boarding house, Bryce began the half mile walk toward Milk Street and Bishops. She would put Mr. Alcock’s offer to the test and see if he was the concerned gentleman he said he was or just one more disappointment for Bryce.

***

Duncan Alcock’s house was a large, gray clapboard-sided Colonial Georgian-style home that was recessed off Bishops Street by a wide swath of green lawn lined with a white picket fence. The wood trim around the many small windows was painted white and a single red bricked chimney jutted out of the roof on the east end of the house.

Bryce had walked past houses like this during her time in Boston, but she never imagined she would be going into one as anything more than a servant, much less an invited guest. Bryce’s stomach felt like a knot as she knocked on the large oak door of Duncan’s house.

After nearly a minute, a woman dressed in a thick black skirt and white blouse opened the door. Her brown hair was pulled back in a severe bun at the base of her neck and her skin was so pale and smooth, it reminded Bryce of a doll she had once seen in a shop window.

“Yes?” The woman’s voice was throaty and sent a shiver through Bryce. Her eyes were an intense blue that seemed to glow in the dim light.

“I know Mr. Alcock and he said if I needed anything I could come see him.” Bryce handed the woman Duncan’s calling card.

Taking the card, the woman didn’t bother to look at it. She slipped it into the front pocket of her skirt. “What’s your name?”

“Bryce Whelan.”

Stepping back, the woman gestured for Bryce to enter. The house was more opulent than Bryce could have imagined. The floors were dark maple, but not the scuffed and worn ones she was used to seeing. The wood shone and Bryce thought if she looked closely enough she would see her reflection in it.

The walls of the main hallway were covered in deep red wallpaper and the ceilings were decorative, white tiles embossed with a design that reminded Bryce of tree canopies.

“Wait here.” The woman walked down the hall toward the back of the house.

Looking into the adjacent parlor, Bryce was amazed at the amount of furniture in the house. She was used to a sparse scattering of worn out and broken odds and ends, but Duncan’s house was furnished with the finest wood tables and fabric covered chairs.

In spite of the fact the sun had already set, the house was fully illuminated. Bryce had noticed the elaborate brass lamp that hung next to the front door when she arrived and the additional lamps lining the hall. Floral scents filled the air and Bryce thought the house was the most beautiful she had ever seen.

“Miss Whelan, I’m so glad to see you.” Duncan appeared from the back of the house, the beautiful brunette following close behind. “You’ve met my housekeeper Nan?”

Bryce smiled at the woman. “Nice to meet you.” The woman nodded.

“What brings you here, Miss Whelan?’ Duncan placed his cold hand on the small of Bryce’s back and directed her into the parlor.

Sitting in a large easy chair that was covered with a thick, blue cotton fabric, the redhead marveled at how comfortable it was. The chair was softer and more inviting than her bed at the boarding house. “I thought about what you said, and it didn’t seem safe staying at the house.” She was a terrible liar and struggled to maintain eye contact with her host. “So - I - I thought it would be better if I came here.”

Duncan’s eyes narrowed as he sat in a chair across from Bryce. He looked closely at the woman without saying a word. Raising his right hand, he waved Nan over. The woman bent down and Duncan whispered something to the woman that Bryce couldn’t hear, then the brunette left the room.

“I appreciate you thinking of me, Miss Whelan - ah, may I call you Bryce?” Duncan smiled and in the light of the parlor, Bryce was reminded how unusually white and perfectly straight his teeth were.

“Ye - yes.” Her emotions swirled and coursed inside her. She was still shaken from what she had witnessed at Abitha’s, but excited by the newness and opulence of where she was now. Her mind cautioned her to tread carefully as she hardly knew the man sitting across from her. Or his motives.

Leaning back in the chair, Duncan crossed his legs, his eyes never leaving Bryce. “You can’t read?”

Bryce frowned. The question was not one she had expected. “I - no, sir.”

“A shame, but not uncommon given the patriarchal structure this society thrives on.” The man absently picked at the long, tapered nail jutting from his left pinky.

“I don’t know what that means.” She felt shame and resentment at her ignorance, but didn’t see the point in pretending she was something she wasn’t.

Smiling, Duncan leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “You’re honest, Bryce. That’s an all too rare commodity.” His eyes wandered over her face and down to where her hands rested in her lap. “How old are you?”

The man’s scrutiny was adding to Bryce’s nervousness. She feared she had made a mistake in coming to the house. “I’m thirty-one, sir.” A noise from the hall caught her attention, and Nan returned with a large silver tray.

His eyes still on Bryce, Duncan addressed the woman. “Perfect timing, Nan. Please set that on the table and leave us.”

The brunette placed the tray on a small, round wooden table to Duncan’s right. Bryce’s stomach growled as she admired the assortment of biscuits and sweets neatly placed on a white porcelain plate.

“How do you take your tea, Bryce?” Duncan reached for the silver carafe.

“Black, sir.” In truth, Bryce didn’t know how she preferred her tea. Drinking the bitter liquid black was born more of necessity, and the absence of readily available milk and sugar, than taste. The poor weren’t afforded preferences.

The corner of Duncan’s mouth turned up as he poured the tea into a white porcelain cup that matched the plate. “I like mine with some sugar and a splash of milk. Won’t you try it that way?”

Bryce felt flattered that a gentleman of Mr. Alcock’s stature would take any interest in her, much less share a cup of tea with her in his home. “That would be nice.” She smiled and felt the stresses of the day wearing off. The man handed Bryce the cup of tea. The warmth of the cup felt nice against her hands and triggered a wave of contentment through her.

“Nan has asked to leave my company.” Duncan sipped at his own cup of tea. “I’ll be lost without her, but I’ve never been able to deny her anything in all the years we’ve been together.”

Bryce chewed nervously on the inside of her cheek. She felt foolish for thinking Mr. Alcock would be interested in her for anything more than a maid. “I see.”

Duncan put his tea down on the silver tray and picked up the plate of sweets. “Do you?” He held the plate in front of Bryce.

Hesitantly, Bryce reached for what looked like a small biscuit with shaved almonds on top of it. “You’re asking if I would be interested in being your new housekeeper.”

Putting the plate down, the man leaned back in his chair. “That’s not all.” He looked at Bryce closely. She felt his gaze so intensely she thought he might be reading every thought she ever had.

“I am available, sir.” Bryce nervously sipped at her tea and took a small bite of the biscuit. It was soft, buttery, and possibly the best thing she had ever eaten.

“I’ve been watching you for a long time, Bryce.” Duncan picked his tea up and took a drink. “You’re friendly without being too familiar and honest without offending.” Putting the tea cup down, the man moved to the edge of his chair. The light from the fireplace danced across his smooth skin and his blue eyes seemed to shine.

“Thank you, sir.” Bryce was at a loss. She felt uncomfortable knowing the man had been paying her attention without her being aware. His manner didn’t seem threatening, but Bryce felt certain he wanted something more than her employment.

“I’ve heard your people are dead and that you arrived in Boston alone. Is that correct?” Duncan stood and faced the fireplace.

It occurred to Bryce she would make a perfect victim given her relative obscurity in the city, and this both saddened and frightened her. “I have a brother who visits me from time to time.”

Duncan tilted his head to the side. “A brother maybe, but not one that visits.”

Bryce stood up. “I should be going. I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

The man turned and a moment later held Bryce against his cool body. “I don’t want you to be afraid. I’m going to give you a gift.”

The man’s grip was solid and though Bryce was pushing against him with all her strength, she was unable to move an inch. “I don’t want anything from you!” Panic threatened to choke her as she struggled to free herself.

Duncan’s fingers dug into Bryce’s upper arms as he held her away from him. Looking into the man’s eyes, Bryce gasped as the vivid blue was now glowing with an iridescent light. The man’s perfectly straight, white teeth jutted out passed his upper lip as a faint smile spread across his lips.

“Be calm, girl. You can’t imagine the wonders that await you.” Duncan covered Bryce’s mouth with his cold hand, her cries stifled as a hot searing pain shot down her neck and along her back.

Her heart pounded and the sound reverberated through her entire body. The heat moved down her legs and Bryce suddenly felt limp and lifeless. A burning began to tickle her hands and feet as if a thousand ants were biting her at once. Gasping for air, her lungs failed and she choked.

A series of sobs, followed by her body spasming, tore through Bryce. Her mind felt slow as if it were moving through a thick fog. As all other thoughts and feelings were forced from her, Bryce realized her life was ending. The all too brief, nearly irrelevant time she had spent living suddenly halted, and she died.

***

Bryce’s ears were ringing and her eyes burned as she struggled to focus them. She was lying flat on her back in what looked like a root cellar. Though the ground beneath her was cold and hard, she wasn’t uncomfortable, except for the fact she couldn’t sit up.

“It’s best to stay still.” Duncan’s voice came from behind her and Bryce craned her neck in an effort to see him.

“What -” The redhead’s throat tightened. Her mouth was dry and her tongue felt thick.

“Shh. It’s best if you don’t speak for a few hours.” A hand began to gently stoke Bryce’s forehead. “You’ve been through a shock and the body needs some time.”

A faint burning was beginning to grow in the back of Bryce’s throat. Her stomach felt sour and hot. “I’m - I’m thirsty.”

A moment later, a warm, wet cloth was being pressed to her lips. The scent of metal, earth, and something sweet that Bryce couldn’t identify, filled her senses as she took a breath in through her nose. Without regard for what she was being offered, the woman began to eagerly suck and lap at the wet cloth. Immediately, the burning in her throat and stomach stopped and the ringing in her ears subsided.

Opening her eyes wider, Bryce realized she was indeed in a root cellar and though the absence of candles told her the room was cloaked in darkness, her eyes easily made out the subtle details of the dirt floor and the rough texture of the stone walls.

“What’s happened to me?” Bryce’s voice sounded different, smoother, more even, as if set to music.

“I’ve made you a vampire.” Duncan sat on a small, low-rise wooden stool next to Bryce. Seeing the confused expression on the woman’s face, Duncan slid down and knelt next to her. “Do you know what that means?”

Bryce shook her head and Duncan lightly ran his index finger along her cheek, sending the most intense, visceral longing through her that she had ever known. Everything was more intense, powerful, and wonderful.

“You’ll never sleep, never get sick. You’re strong and fast. You can smell things and hear sounds from miles away. You’ll never die.” The man sat back on the stool. “But nothing is without a price.” His eyes ran the length of Bryce’s body, a smile finding his full lips. “You are perfect.”

“What price?” Bryce was surprised by her tolerance of the man’s attentions, but she suddenly felt a kinship to him that she could only compare to her feelings for Aeden.

“You have to feed on human blood.” Duncan stood up and looked down at Bryce. “You may feel a repulsion at the notion, but I assure you, the first time you kill, all sense of moral obligation will disappear." Crouching down on his haunches next to Bryce, the man grinned. “It’s the order of things.”

Standing, Duncan dusted dirt from his pants and walked toward a small wooden door across the cellar. “I’ve restrained you with silver. In a few days you can come out and join the rest of the world. Any sooner than that and you might go on a feeding binge.” When he opened the door, the light from the world above flooded the cellar and Bryce slammed her eyes shut.

“Sorry. The light sensitivity varies. Would you believe me if I told you it’s half past one - in the morning?” Snapping his fingers, Duncan turned back to Bryce. “You mentioned a boarding house earlier. Where is it? I should ensure they know you’ve taken employment with me, less they come looking for you.”

Bryce shook her head. “They won’t. I left without notice when -” Her mind raced as the vivid images of Abitha and Aaron in bed together filled her mind’s eye.

“What is it?” Duncan was suddenly next to her again.

“The women I was staying with - they were doing things and I wanted no part of it.”

Duncan’s brow arched. “What things?”

Bryce hadn’t intended on ever telling anyone what she had seen. The thought sickened her and she had no desire to relive the moment for purposes of storytelling. But things were different now and she felt unafraid and uninhibited for the first time in her life. Impossible seemed foreign, more like a challenge than something to dread.

“The women had knowledge of one another. And the mistress of the house and her son were - together.” Bryce watched as Duncan’s expression went from amused by the women’s coupling, to concerned by the mother and son’s fornication.

“These women - they’ve lived together for how long?”

Bryce shrugged. She was surprised at how the memory had faded along with the disgust, fear, and uncertainty. It was distant as if it were a story she had heard, not something she had witnessed. “They all knew each other when I arrived.”

“What else was happening when you discovered them?” The urgency in the man’s voice made Bryce uneasy.

“The group was in Abitha’s bed. Candles were everywhere, along with -” Just picturing the blood that covered their bodies caused the burning in the back of Bryce’s throat to flare again. Swallowing hard, she continued. “Blood. The four were covered in blood.”

A flash of blue lit up Duncan’s eyes. “I need to make inquiries.”

Bryce couldn’t help but laugh. “What? Why would it matter to you?”

Duncan stood perfectly still, his tall frame silhouetted by the light coming through the cellar doorway. “You were living in a coven, Bryce.”

Coven was a word Bryce was familiar with. The tales and folklore of her homeland weren’t that different from the Colonies, and she had known about the existence of witches since she was a child. “I don’t think Abitha is a witch.”

Duncan rubbed the back of his neck, his irritation evident. “They aren’t the specters of the night and purveyors of the occult that you think, Bryce. They have powers, and some are very strong. Stronger still when they gather in numbers.”

Seeing he meant to leave her, Bryce began to struggle against the silver restraints. “Don’t leave me here!”

“I’ll send Nan down to sit with you. I’ll be back shortly.” Without another word, the man was gone. Bryce laid listening to sounds and whispers she could only guess at, all overshadowed by the loud cracking and booming of gunfire and the smaller sounds of men dying in the distance.

***

Hours had passed before Nan came into the cellar. Bryce was amazed at how she felt no hint of fatigue or discomfort. The burning in her throat and stomach had returned, though, and she hoped Nan would bring her something to relieve it. She was still struggling with the idea of consuming human blood, but the grotesqueness of the act faded with each passing hour.

“Duncan is dead.” Nan stood over Bryce, a rag dripping with blood clutched in her left hand.

“What?!” Bryce went to sit up and was reminded of the silver cords as they dug into her shoulders, chest, and hips.

“Your witch ended him.” Nan knelt next to Bryce and held the rag to the woman’s lips. “He thought too much of himself - and our kind.”

Sucking furiously at the rag, Bryce forced her mouth away. After the initial wave of euphoria washed over her from the infusion of blood, she managed to speak. “How?”

Tossing the rag to the side, Nan shrugged, her tone flat and indifferent. “Some witches have power over life and death. Since we are dead, that gives them domain over us, too.” She lifted the silver cord from Bryce’s legs.

“He - he said I could never die.” Bryce felt relief as the weight of a second cord was removed from her hips.

Nan chuckled. “Everything dies, Bryce. Everyone’s days are numbered. Some higher than others.”

The last cord was removed and as quickly as the thought to move shot through her head, Bryce was on her feet and standing near the entrance to the cellar.

“I thought -” Bryce looked at the woman, who now, with her new sight, was even more radiant and beautiful than Bryce remembered.

“He wasn’t my maker. He found me fifty years ago, half-starved in the wilderness.” Her cool demeanor faltered, but then she set her jaw and continued. “He taught me how to be a vampire, but I was done with his decadent way of life. He knew it, and we had agreed to part company on good terms.”

Bryce remembered the splendor of the house above them and couldn’t imagine why Nan would want leave. “Why would you want to give -”

“We’re animals, Bryce. The very top of the food chain. Duncan’s refinements haven’t suited me for years.” Nan walked toward Bryce, dropping the last cord to the ground. “Restraint, moderation - those are just nice words for conceding your power.”

The woman brushed past Bryce and stood on the stairs. “You’re going to help me, Bryce. In return, I will teach you how to be a vampire.” The woman sighed deeply. “Make no mistake. I have no interest in you as a companion. You seem altogether too decent for my taste. But I need your help; I mean to kill Abitha and her coven, less they impede my efforts in the future.”

Bryce felt no kinship with Nan, but though the memory seemed very distant, she did owe Duncan her life. Both the one he had saved in the alley and the one he had given her hours ago.

***

Though dawn was at least an hour away, the sky seemed bright and alive over Bryce as she and Nan walked down the street. She had often struggled maintaining her balance on the uneven, muddy streets of Boston, but now she moved smoothly, not so much as a stutter in her step.

The cannon fire from earlier had subsided. If Bryce focused her attention, she could hear the echo of a hundred footsteps as the soldiers drew nearer to the city.

“A bit early for you to be out on your own, sweethearts.” A man in his forties, dressed in tattered, dirty trousers and a jacket, was snuffing out a street lamp with a long metal pole as he leered at Bryce and Nan.

A tickle began on the roof of Bryce’s mouth. Her vision narrowed until all she could see was the man; all she could hear was the pounding of his heart in her head. The smell of urine and sweat was masked by the most deliciously sweet, floral scent she had ever experienced. Instantly she felt her incisors extend.

Covering her mouth, she remembered how frightened she had been when Duncan had attacked her. She looked at Nan, who stood passive at her side, and Bryce felt her stomach cramp as the man came closer.

Looking nervously from Nan to the man, Bryce could see his lips moving, but all she could hear was his heart. Then there was the low hum of a running river that seemed to be in sync with the heartbeat. Bryce instinctively knew it was the sound of the man’s blood flowing through his body.

An amused smirk spread across Nan’s lips. “Practice.” The woman whispered the single word into Bryce’s ear as she stepped behind the redhead.

“You two look a little pale. Need some help?” The man grabbed for Bryce, and in a second the woman had reached for his wrist, bending it backwards until it snapped.

Down on his knees in front of her, the man’s filthy face was stained with tears as he cried out in pain. Pulling him to his feet by his greasy hair, Bryce felt a surge of excitement as she sank her teeth into the front of the man’s throat. Warm, minerally blood rushed into her mouth. A sob escaped her as the exhilaration of feeding cascaded over her.

Seconds later, the once sweet blood began to take on a bitter taste, and again, Nan’s voice was in Bryce’s ear. “Let him go before the blood spoils.”

Dropping the dead man to the ground, Bryce spit the last of his blood onto his still chest. Wiping at her mouth, she was shocked by the ease at which she had taken another life; but it seemed altogether right.

“You’re a natural. Good, I won’t have to spend too much time bringing you up to speed.” Nan stepped over the corpse and continued walking down the street.

Leaving the dead man on the muddy street, Bryce continued after Nan, toward Abitha’s house. She had no idea what had transpired there between the witch and Duncan, but the woman and her coven were clearly a threat. Bryce had spent her entire life afraid of one thing or another, and she would not begin eternity in the same vein.

“Can you hear the heartbeats?” Nan stood on the sidewalk in front of Abitha’s house, her eyes glowing an intense blue as she stood shoulder to shoulder with Bryce.

The house was cloaked in darkness, but Bryce could hear the steady beat of three hearts. Her strength and speed emboldened her as she followed Nan up the front stoop. The brunette quietly forced the front door open and a second later the two women were standing on the second floor in front of Catherine’s bedroom door.

Nan nodded toward the closed door. “In the beginning, you don’t need to be neat. Refinement comes with repetition and practice.” She pushed the thin wood door open, revealing a sleeping figure in the bed near the corner of the small room.

Bryce took a deep breath in through her nose. The scent of roses and moss washed over her, and in a blink of an eye, she stood over a sleeping Catherine.

“Bryce?” Catherine’s hushed whisper came as the woman’s eyes fluttered open and she started to sit up.

Without warning, Bryce silently lunged at the woman, pushing her back onto the bed. Sinking her teeth into the woman’s neck, she was abruptly forced backward onto the floor by invisible hands around her chest.

Catherine rolled from the bed and staggered to her feet. She gasped, her blood flowing onto the floor as she glared at Bryce. When the woman opened her mouth to speak a wet, gurgling sound escaped her. Her eyes widened as she stepped back, nearly falling to the ground.

Bryce felt the vise around her chest loosen and immediately lunged toward the dying woman, snapping her neck with a single stroke.

Stepping back out into the hall, Bryce turned to see Nan leaning against Aaron’s bedroom door. “Well, done. Ruthless, cruel, and quick.”

The brunette lifted her head and took a deep breath in through her nose. “Focus. Can you smell that?”

The scent of stale blood mixed with lavender reminded Bryce of Margaret. The woman had been killed in the house, most likely by Duncan. “Someone else has been killed here.”

Nan nodded. “Now they are only two.” She pushed off the door and stood in front of Bryce. “I’m leaving you to do your worst. Or die trying.”

The woman walked toward the stairs and turned one last time to consider Bryce. “Remember, everything dies, Bryce. It’s the life you lead, not the length of that life, that matters.” She turned her back to Bryce and began descending the stairs. “Indulge your nature, and don’t be lulled into complacency by the promise of immortality. Everything passes.”

The woman was gone and with her the only other vampire Bryce knew. She was alone, and where she would have expected an overwhelming sadness she found only irritation and anger toward Abitha. Her emotions towards the woman were amplified, as was her need for revenge for her dead maker and being left to navigate eternity by herself.

Bryce pushed open Aaron’s door. The young man lay on his back in bed, his sheet pulled up to his chest. Determined not to make the same mistake Duncan had by underestimating the witches, Bryce pounced on the sleeping man, plunging her fist into the man’s chest and ripping his heart free. Tilting her head back, the vampire drank the blood as it poured from the still beating organ.

Bryce looked down. Aaron’s eyes were open, glassed over with a look of shock and pain. Leaping from the corpse, she landed silently on the worn wood floor. Turning to leave, she stopped. Abitha stood in the doorway, naked, her black hair cascading over her shoulders.

“What have you done?” Her eyes were fixed on her dead son.

Now faced with the witch, and on her own, Bryce had no desire to confront Abitha. Given what Nan had said, she knew the woman posed a very real threat and could end her life before it even began.

Without a word, Bryce ran toward the small window and dove through it. Landing on the street below, she looked up to see Abitha’s rage-filled face staring at her through the shattered glass.

The redheaded vampire sprinted through the streets of Boston and into the forest beyond the city. It was time to leave, to go somewhere, anywhere - fill her mind, stretch her imagination, and be truly awake for the first time in her life. Now she had nothing to fear, nothing to lose. She was free.

Chapter 12

Alison and Bryce sat facing each other on the sofa. The blonde was at a loss for words given the depth of Bryce’s two-hundred-and-seventy-three-year life.

“What about Aeden? And your mother?” Alison thought of her own brother and mother, and how much she would miss them if suddenly she couldn’t be with them anymore.

“I didn’t know it at the time, but the change dulls so many of our human memories and feelings.” Bryce looked down, frowning. “Even now, I know I should have been devastated at the loss, but the emotions just aren’t real.”

Alison’s brow furrowed and she shook her head without looking at Bryce.

Bryce looked expectantly at the silent woman. “I won’t make any excuses for what I became.” The vampire’s gaze fell to the floor. “I had so little as a human. I really didn’t understand anything about who I was. As a vampire I felt entitled to give life to every want, desire, and impulse. I denied myself nothing, and as a result I became a monster.”

Bryce closed her eyes and swallowed hard, her nervousness tightening around her throat. “Eventually, I realized I was being weighed down with each passing, heinous act until I could barely lift my head because of the shame.”

Bryce managed a quick glance at Alison, who sat motionless next to her. “I’ve said too much then?”

Alison’s head was spinning. She rubbed her right temple with her thumb. “No, it isn’t too much. It’s your life, so that could never be too much.”

Bryce inched closer so their knees were touching. Reaching up so slowly that Alison thought they might never touch, the coolness of the vampire’s palm came to rest on her cheek. Bryce leaned forward and she lightly kissed the warmth of Alison’s jaw.

Bryce pulled back slightly, the two women’s faces only inches from one another. “Do you still want this?” Bryce’s voice was low and intimate, sending sparks of heat through Alison’s chest and stomach.

It seemed to Alison that she and Bryce were completely incompatible. Yet they clearly had an affinity for one another that she couldn’t explain, but wanted desperately to explore. Placing her hands on either side of Bryce’s face, Alison gently kissed the woman. A soft moan escaped the redhead and Alison wrapped her arms around her, pulling her closer.

“Worst idea ever.” Alison smiled against Bryce’s cool lips.

The first touch of Bryce’s tongue to Alison’s sent a shiver through the blonde. Independent of any sense of consequence, and understanding only her need to be near Bryce, Alison laid back on the sofa, pulling the other woman with her. A quiet whimper came from the woman on top of her as Bryce shifted, bringing the full length of their bodies together.

Entwining her fingers in the short blonde hair at the base of Alison’s neck, Bryce increased the intensity of the kiss as she nipped and licked at her lips. Alison slid her hands under Bryce’s shirt, amazed by the smoothness of her skin as she ran her hands down the small of her back and under the waistband of her jeans.

Sitting up, Bryce pulled Alison with her and quickly reached for the hem of her sweater, tugging the garment over her head and tossing it to the floor. With trembling fingers, Alison unbuttoned Bryce’s shirt and pushed it off her shoulders. The woman was stunning, the planes of her shoulders and stomach perfect.

Alison bent over, licking the smooth, cool skin of the vampire’s stomach, as her hands continued their exploration of her back. Unhooking Bryce’s black bra, Alison pulled the straps off her shoulders and her mouth immediately found Bryce’s hardened nipples. She was surprised by the intense need surging through her and couldn’t remember ever wanting a woman as desperately as she wanted the one straddling her right now.

“God.” Bryce gasped as the warmth of Alison’s mouth covered her nipple, her tongue running back and forth over the erect peak. Reaching around Alison, Bryce unhooked her wine-colored bra and pushed the woman back down onto the sofa. She ran her hands under the loosened, silk bra and squeezed Alison’s firm, round breasts.

Covering Bryce’s hands with her own, Alison felt the throbbing tension in her abdomen growing. Reaching down, she unbuttoned her jeans. Following her lead, Bryce ran her hands down Alison’s stomach, bringing them to rest briefly on her hips. She leaned back and pulled Alison's jeans and panties down her legs, letting them drop to the floor.

Naked and straining under Bryce, Alison quickly undid the redhead’s pants and pushed them down over her hips. Bryce lifted herself up and using her legs, pushed her jeans down and off. Hovering above the beautiful blonde, Bryce looked at Alison, her eyes glowing an iridescent green and her incisors jutting out from under her upper lip, a flash of uncertainty crossing her face.

Reaching for the woman’s shoulders, Alison pulled her down. The coolness and weight of Bryce’s body sent a charge through her as she clung to the woman. Burying her face in Bryce’s neck, Alison bit and sucked at the supple skin. Surprisingly, she found the absence of heat and a pulse intoxicating as she sucked vigorously on the woman’s neck, her senses being inundated with the fragrance of oranges and vanilla.

A sound akin to a low growl escaped Bryce’s lips as she moved away from Alison’s onslaught, running her tongue along the outline of the blonde’s clavicle and placing kisses down the narrow space between Alison’s breasts, then taking one of Alison’s hardened nipples in her mouth. The blonde gasped when one of Bryce’s incisors scraped the sensitive bud.

Undeterred, Bryce sucked and licked the sensitive skin, her hands caressing and stroking Alison’s stomach and jutting hip bone. Moving out from under Bryce, Alison sat up, the two women shifting so Alison was straddling Bryce’s hips. Reaching for the vampire’s hand, Alison guided it over her breasts, down her stomach, and shifting her hips up, pressed Bryce’s hand tight against her center.

Bryce tilted her hand and pushed the tip of her middle finger inside Alison. Her warmth and tightness wrapped itself around her. Alison leaned forward, her hands braced on either side of Bryce’s head on the arm of the sofa. Sliding her hand down between Bryce’s legs, Alison began to slowly rub the woman’s swollen clit. A loud gasp filled the room as Bryce thrust her hips up against Alison’s finger.

A contented sigh escaped Alison as Bryce slid the full length of her finger inside her. She rocked her hips in unison with Bryce’s slow thrusts, the tension building inside her. Bryce began to gently massage Alison’s breast with her other hand, sending shots of electricity to her groin. Pushing harder against Bryce, Alison moaned when the woman pushed a second finger inside her.

“Oh, god.” Alison’s rocking increased as she pushed her hips down. Bryce’s gasps were low and throaty. Feeling her own climax nearing, Alison used her middle finger to run quick circles around the woman’s clit.

Whimpering when Bryce thrust her fingers deeper inside her, Alison began to tighten and quiver around her. Bryce grabbed Alison and pulled her toward her as she climaxed. Seconds later, Alison cried out in a strangled voice as she felt the tension in her body tighten and then explode into her own climax. She collapsed on top of Bryce, the two women clinging to each other.

After a few minutes, when Alison had managed to catch her breath, she lifted her head from Bryce’s chest to find the woman laying perfectly still with her eyes closed. “I know you don’t sleep.”

Bryce opened one eye and then the other. “I was resting.”

Alison grinned and propped herself up on one elbow so she could admire the beautiful woman under her. “That was unexpected.”

Bryce frowned. “Do you wish we hadn’t-”

Before she could finish, Alison leaned forward and kissed her. Pulling back slightly, a huge smile on her face, Alison ran her index finger over Bryce’s bottom lip. “Are we clear?”

Cupping Alison’s cheek with her hand, the redhead nodded. “Perfectly.” Wrapping her arms around Alison, Bryce pulled the woman to her. They laid like that until she could tell from the blonde’s heartbeat and breathing that she was asleep. Reaching for the red colored throw over the back of the couch, Bryce covered Alison.

She had minimized her breathing since she entered the house nearly two hours ago. She was fearful if she took too deep a breath, Alison’s intoxicating scent would overwhelm her. Bryce loathed the amount of willpower she had to exercise to be with Alison, but the alternative seemed even more overwhelming.

She wasn’t sure how or why, but somewhere between her initial attraction to the human at the museum and her determination not to kill her as they both cowered next to that dark lake, Bryce had developed feelings beyond the physical for the beautiful woman.

In spite of a dedicated and diabolical beginning, Bryce realized she was turning out to be a terrible vampire. Having accepted her human death, Bryce had valued life so little over the centuries. Now, the affinity she felt for Alison reminded her of living. More than reminding her, it made her long for it.

***

“You should have woke me.” A groggy Alison made her way into the kitchen dressed in a pair of black cotton shorts and a green t-shirt that read Keep Calm I Have Girl Scout Cookies. At some point during the night, Bryce had carried her into the bedroom and tucked her into bed. To her surprise, she had managed to sleep until nearly nine o’clock in the morning, though her internal alarm clock almost always had her up by seven.

Bryce was sitting at Alison’s kitchenette table with a copy of the New York Times in front of her. She was wearing her clothes from the previous night and still managed to look pulled together. “You were snoring, so I thought you must need the sleep.”

Alison blushed as she sat in the chair next to Bryce. “I’m sexy.”

Bryce smiled. “It’s not a problem. Would you like some coffee?” The woman got up and stopped when Alison grabbed her hand. Without hesitation, Bryce bent down and kissed Alison, the warmth of the woman’s lips rippling through her.

A silly grin spread across Alison’s lips. “Good morning.”

Bryce pulled her to her feet and wrapped her arms around her waist. “You might think differently when you taste my coffee.”

Alison leaned back. “That could be a deal breaker.”

Bryce shook her head and ran the tip of her finger along the blonde’s jaw. “Not the whole vampire thing?”

Taking a step back, Alison struggled to focus on the banter given Bryce’s proximity. “Nope. I’ve worked through that whole - business. But if you can’t make a good cup of coffee - that would be really tragic.”

Bryce’s eyes narrowed as she took a step back from Alison and started walking toward the front door. Alison quickly followed after her. “Ah, where are you going?”

“There’s clearly more at stake here than I realized, so I’m going to Starbucks. I'll be back in fifteen minutes.” The woman pulled her car keys out of her jean pocket.

Alison laughed and grabbed Bryce’s shoulders from behind. “I was kidding.” She turned the reluctant woman around and framed her cool face with her hands. “I can teach you how to make a great cup of coffee.”

Bryce leaned toward Alison and kissed her where her neck and shoulder met. A soft sigh escaped her as she pulled Alison closer. “Your efforts would be lost on me.” Bryce scrunched her nose in disgust. “I can’t stand the smell of the stuff, much less the taste.”

Alison frowned. “I used to feel that way until college - the infamous all-nighter.”

Shaking her head, Bryce smirked. “I wouldn’t really have a need for that.”

“Good point.” Alison took Bryce’s hand and pulled her back toward the kitchen. “How about tea? You like tea.”

Bryce shrugged. “Back in the day I did.”

Alison stopped and turned toward Bryce. “'The day' being plus or minus two centuries?”

Bryce’s eyes widened and she hesitated before answering. “That’s about right.” Watching Alison closely, the vampire took a step forward, narrowing the space between them. “Does that - well, bother you?”

Alison didn’t feel bothered. She felt humbled and impressed by the vast stores of experiences and knowledge the beautiful woman in front of her had. She couldn’t imagine even a fraction of her life, but hoped they could be a part of each other’s lives now.

“Not at all.” Smiling, Alison walked toward the kitchen. “Let’s see how twenty-first century Earl Grey holds up.”

Bryce grinned and followed Alison. She sat in a comfortable silence while Alison made them both tea. Taking the steaming cup of Earl Grey, Bryce looked intently at the blonde. “You’re beautiful.”

Alison paused and looked at Bryce, a faint smile forming on her lips. “Thank you.” She felt the intimacy of the moment enveloping her in a warm, secure blanket and she wanted desperately for it not to end. Given the events of the past few days, though, she knew that was an impossibility.

“What is it?” Bryce’s brow furrowed as she watched the smile fade from Alison’s face.

Taking a deep breath, Alison sat down at the table next to the vampire. “The women who kidnapped you - we should talk about that.” Alison huffed. “The fact we haven’t is kinda crazy.”

Bryce took Alison’s hand in hers. “We were busy.”

Alison blushed as the memories of their night together raced through her mind. “That’s an understatement.”

Releasing Alison’s hand, and taking a tentative sip of her tea, Bryce considered Alison for several seconds before speaking. “The witch from my story - Abitha - she and her coven kidnapped me. They have a natural aversion to vampires and a justified hate for me in particular.”

Alison felt the air forced out of her lungs as she remembered the dark lake.  Almost immediately, she felt the room began to spin. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.”

Bryce grabbed Alison’s forearm and gently stroked the warm skin in an effort to reassure the clearly shaken woman. “A lot of the myths and legends are true. Witches exist. Their bloodlines go back nearly as far as vampires. They have powers I don’t understand, that unlike my kind don’t seem rooted in any sort of science or physiology.”

Alison blinked several times as her mind stretched to accept even more unimagined truths. “What - what sort of powers?”

Bryce leaned back in the chair. “Too numerous to go into now. But they are a real threat.” The redhead looked down at the table, picking nervously at the edge of the wooden surface. “We’ll need to do something today - together.”

Alison frowned; Bryce’s foreboding tone turning her stomach sour. “What?”

“We need to go seek counsel from one of the oldest vampires in existence.”

“How old?” Alison managed to ask.

Bryce took the woman’s hand. “She would tell you old enough, but in literal terms -” Attempting to lighten the mood, Bryce began counting on her fingers. “Just shy of four thousand years.” Alison gasped, and Bryce couldn’t help but laugh. “Don’t be too impressed. For all her worldliness, she’s as dysfunctional as any of us.”

***

“What a sad little parade you all are.” Rayven smirked as she stood in the doorway of Coleen’s house, clad in a pair of dark Levis jeans and a slim fitted navy blue Polo shirt.

“Very classy, Rayven.” Ash rolled her eyes.

Rayven cocked her head to the side. “You should talk, shifter.”

Emma stepped forward and, taking Ash’s hand, tried her best to not sound annoyed. “Can we please dispense with the pleasantries and come in, Rayven?”

“Who’s she?” Rayven looked past Emma and Ash to the blonde human standing next to Bryce. “She smells yummy.” Flicking her tongue across a now extended incisor, Rayven’s onyx colored eyes swirled and took on a light gray color that nearly glowed in the dim light of the entryway.

Bryce stepped in front of Alison. “This is Alison, and she’s with me.”

Rayven continued to devour Alison with her eyes. “Maybe she doesn’t know any better.”

Alison had been relieved when Bryce told her Emma and Ash were meeting them at Coleen’s. She needed as many familiar people in her life right now as possible, though at the moment it was doing very little to alleviate the awkwardness of having a beautiful vampire looking at her like a high price cut of filet mignon. She knew the remainder of this visit would be unbearable if she assumed the role of hapless human; she needed to stand up for herself now.

Alison took several decisive steps toward Rayven with her hand extended. “Hi, Rayven. It’s nice to meet you.” The vampire looked perplexed at the upbeat woman and slowly extended her hand. “Rest assured, your reputation precedes you and I most certainly do know better.” Releasing Rayven’s hand, Alison stepped back and wrapped her arm around Bryce’s waist, a confident smile spread across her lips.

“She’s awesome.” Ash muttered to an amused Emma.

Bryce leaned in and kissed Alison on the cheek. “Well played.”

Alison took a deep breath, hoping the entire group couldn’t hear the pounding of her heart. “Thanks. You owe me a very large tumbler of Jameson after this.”

Bryce grinned as they walked into the house and passed an entertained, albeit more subdued, Rayven. “Deal.”

“Emma!” A tall, dark haired man with nearly clear blue eyes, dressed in a black pair of Hugo Boss slacks, a gun metal gray dress shirt, and a slim fit black Kenneth Cole blazer greeted the group as they entered the foyer of the house.

“Lewis?” Emma’s eyes lit up as she rushed toward the handsome man. The two embraced and Emma leaned back, taking the vampire’s face in her hands. “It’s been decades. I can’t believe you’re here.”

Leaning in, Lewis placed a firm kiss on Emma’s cheek and then, glancing over his shoulder, grinned. “I was summoned by you know who.”

Emma hugged her maker, the surprise and joy of seeing him bringing a broad smile to her face. “And you actually came?”

Laughing, Lewis shook his head as he looked at Emma. “I’m loyal to a fault.”

Emma nodded. “You really are.” Stepping back, she reached for Ash who stood behind her. “Lewis, this is my partner, Ashley Haines.” Feeling the warmth of Ash’s hand in hers, Emma pulled the woman toward her. “Ash, this is Lewis Thomas. My maker.”

The utter joy radiating from Emma at seeing her maker again made Ash want to hug the man. Not knowing his preference, she settled for a handshake. “I’ve heard a lot about you. It’s good to finally meet you.”

Lewis’ smile waned as he looked at Emma, then back to Ash. “Ash, forgive my forwardness, but are you -”

“A shifter? Yes, she is, Lewis.” Coleen appeared from one of the many hallways jutting off from the main entrance. “And whatever that might imply.”

Emma frowned at Coleen. “Coleen has never been keen on details. Ash was turned about a year ago.” Narrowing her eyes at Coleen, Emma continued. “We had known each other prior.”

Nodding, Lewis’ smile returned as he released Ash’s hand. “I see. It’s good to meet you.”

“Why is that a thing?” Alison whispered to Bryce.

Bryce leaned toward Alison and squeezed her hand gently. “The relationship between a shifter and a vampire is considered by some to be taboo.”

“As is one between a human and vampire, Bryce.” Coleen interjected.

Bryce straightened up. “It couldn’t be helped.”

Coleen looked Alison up and down. “No, I suppose it couldn’t. She is lovely.”

In spite of the compliment, or maybe because of it, Alison felt squeamish and uncomfortable. Ash turned to her friend. “Ignore her. She’s a broken record when it comes to this. Consider it an initiation of sorts.”

Coleen tisked. “You forget yourself, Ash.”

Ash chuckled. “No, I just know you, Coleen.”

Turning her back on Ash, Coleen walked toward a large archway, leading to an open communal area adorned with overstuffed leather chairs and couches. In the far corner was a large mahogany bar stocked with every imaginable liquor.

“You’ve all bothered to come, so I suppose I should offer you drinks.”  Coleen’s lack of enthusiasm was evident in her tone as the group followed her into the room.

Lewis stood back. He stepped in front of Bryce and Alison, a warm smile on his face as he extended his hand to the professor. “Lewis Thomas, ma’am. Very nice to meet you.”

The man was beyond attractive. His jaw was well defined, accenting his perfectly formed lips. His piercing blue eyes were framed by long, thick, black lashes, and he exuded a confidence and charm Alison immediately associated with the Antebellum South.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Alison smiled as the man took her hand between both of his.

Lewis glanced at Bryce. “It’s been a long time.”

Bryce winced. “I didn’t make the best first impression. Sorry.”

Lewis released Alison’s hand and put his hand on Bryce’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. “We all have a past.”

He looked at Alison and nodded. “Ma’am.” The vampire then turned and joined the others.

Looping her arm through Alison’s, Bryce sighed. “That went better than I would have thought.”

“How do you know him?” Alison was mesmerized by the various stories, overlays, and back and forths going on amongst the group.

“He didn’t kill me when I had it coming.” The redhead stated casually.

Alison’s eyes widened, but before she could respond, Ash was handing her a glass of Jameson on the rocks. “Oh, thanks.” She took a drink of the spicy, dark liquid and a deep breath, hoping the combination would steady her nerves.

Coleen stepped out from behind the bar and handed Rayven a glass of red wine before clearing her throat. “Though I loathe these sorts of family reunions…” She looked at Alison with contempt. “Such as they are, what with the in-laws and all - I want you to be aware of a grave threat facing each of us.”

Emma interrupted from her seat next to Ash on one of the sofas. “Where are Rachel and Sara?” Though their paths didn’t cross often, Emma appreciated how gracious and considerate the two vampires had been when she and Ash were initially struggling. She hated to think of them being caught off-guard or worse, ended.

Coleen sighed. “Alas, they are travelling overseas. I have left word for them to contact me when they return.” Rolling her eyes, Coleen poured herself a glass of Glenlivet. “Young love.”

The dark haired vampire sat down in a leather Chesterfield chair nearest the bar. Crossing her legs, she took a deep breath. “It seems the lovely, albeit misguided Bryce has arrived in our fair city with a little baggage in tow. Plainly put, a coven of witches have taken issue with some of our friend’s past indiscretions and now we all may have hell to pay.” She looked out the top of her eyes at Bryce. “Does that about sum it up?”

Bryce nodded and looked around to find six pairs of eyes looking at her. “Yes.”

Coleen uncrossed her legs and placed her hands on her knees. “Perfect. So, I propose we kill the witches and call it a day.”

Emma shook her head. “You can’t be serious? First, we don’t even know where to find them, and second, why does everything end in a killing or someone being turned when you’re solving a problem, Coleen?”

The woman smirked. “Path of least resistance, Em.”

Ash, who had been sitting next to Emma on one of the leather sofas, got up. “I don’t want to be a party pooper, but can we not talk so openly about murdering people? I am a homicide detective, after all.” She bent down and picked her Appleton rum and coke up from a marble end table. “Can’t we be a little more imaginative than this?” Scanning the room, Ash took a sip of her drink. “I mean, what have we got here, like over four thousand years of intellect? Surely murder or maiming can’t be our only options.”

Alison couldn’t stifle the chuckle and immediately felt the pressure of the group’s gaze upon her. “Sorry.”

Coleen got up and walked around to the back of the chair Alison occupied. She placed her cool hands on either of Alison’s shoulders. “Don’t apologize. I imagine you could add something to this conversation.”

Alison wasn’t naïve enough to believe Coleen might actually value her input, but rather knew the woman more than likely meant to embarrass her. “I’ll defer to the group’s vast experiences.” It seemed as good an answer as any.

Coleen laughed and applied more pressure to the back of Alison’s shoulders. “Don’t be so modest. I’ve read one of your books and though elementary in their form, I -”

“Stop it, Coleen.” Lewis interjected from his spot nearest the bar. “There’s nothing gained from embarrassing her; so get off it.” He flashed Alison a reassuring smile. “What is she talking about, Alison?”

Leaning forward, Alison scooted to the edge of her chair, effectively freeing herself from Coleen’s clutches. She looked at Bryce, who, managing a weak smile, nodded from the chair adjacent to hers. “I’m a professor of American folklore, and I’ve published two books on witches.” She shook her head. “But I’ve never met a witch because my theses are based on the assumption the witches we’re talking about don’t actually exist.”

“Well, you got that one wrong.” Rayven sniped from across the room.

Alison didn’t like the woman and her patience was wearing thin. “What possible reason would I have had to believe in witches?” Not waiting for Rayven to reply, Alison continued. “I mean, did you believe in vampires before you were one?”

Rayven opened her mouth to speak, and then stopped. She looked at Coleen, who, in spite of her inherent dislike of Alison, wore an amused expression on her face. Looking at Bryce, Rayven’s irritation only grew when the redhead shrugged her shoulders and took Alison’s hand in hers. “She has a point, Ray.”

Feeling more confident, Alison took a drink of her Jameson and then cleared her throat. “I do know the killings on the Southside have drawn attention from the press. In particular a journalist I’ve been working with is doing a series on folklore and community superstitions and he is using the murders as a central point.” She had never imagined how close Tom’s series was to getting at the truth of the killings.

“A reporter? Who?” Coleen’s tone was accusatory. “What have you told him about us?” Her eyes flashed a bright blue as she stepped around the chair and glared at Alison.

Bryce immediately stood and put herself between Alison and the agitated vampire. “She hasn’t said anything, Coleen. Calm down and stop jumping to conclusions.”

Coleen practically growled at Bryce. “Don’t tell me to calm down. You - and this woman - have caused us more trouble than you can imagine. There are three -” She thrust her long, tapered fingers into Bryce’s face. “Three dead vampires because your witch needed target practice.”

Bryce slapped Coleen’s hand away, her eyes glowing a bright green as blue veins protruded from her skin, weaving a web along her jaw line and neck. “If you want to keep those fingers, you’ll get them out of my face!” The redhead’s incisors extended nearly an inch beyond her upper lip, her voice several octaves deeper as she growled at Coleen.

Coleen laughed, a shrill cackle filling the space. “You haven’t got the stones.”

Before Bryce could lunge at the woman, a pair of hands grabbed her shoulders. “Easy. Don’t give her the satisfaction.” Emma’s soothing voice pushed through the deafening rage in Bryce’s head. “Besides, she’s much stronger than any of us.”

Bryce’s posture relaxed and she begrudgingly took a step back. Alison grabbed her hand and pulled her down onto the arm of the chair next to her. With the exception of the night by the lake, she had never seen Bryce like this. The power and rage that radiated off the woman was stunning and terrifying at the same time.

“Can we get back to the issue at hand, please?” Emma scanned the group as she sat back down next to Ash.

As if a switch had been flipped, Coleen’s voice was calm when she spoke. “On second thought, this reporter may be just what we need.”

Alison bristled. She didn’t like the turn the conversation was taking. “Wait, Tom can’t be a part of this.”

Coleen waved Alison off. “If he’s been snooping around, the odds are the coven knows and will take any opportunity to dispatch him anyway.”

Shooting up out of her chair, Alison shook her head. “No. No, they wouldn’t know.”

A slow smile spread across Coleen’s face. “Yet.”

Lewis put his nearly empty gimlet down and stood up. “How very conniving of you, Coleen, but I tend to agree with Alison. There’s no need to turn this poor Tom fellow into collateral damage.”

“Why not?” Rayven’s voice dripped with disdain. “He’s only human.”

Alison was done with the smug woman and squared her shoulders as she turned to face the vampire. “Would you please shut up? You have contributed absolutely nothing to this exchange, short of patronizing and condescending comments that add no substantive value to the conversation.” She was taking the same tone with the nearly hundred year old vampire that she would with a student. “So unless you’re going to actually submit a solution for the group to consider, keep your mouth shut.” Flopping back down in the chair, Alison felt relieved that she had stood up for herself, and in essence - though on a relatively small scale - all of humanity.

“You bi -” Rayven took a step toward Alison, but was intercepted by Coleen.

“Sit down.” The older vampire grabbed Rayven’s wrist, their eyes locked. Rayven broke eye contact first and reluctantly fell back into line next to Coleen. “Alison and Ash, you’ll speak with this reporter and ensure he isn’t on the right path with the story.”

“You struggle with please, don’t you, Coleen?” Ash shook her head, as Emma and her looked at each other. “Why should I get involved? The relationship is with Alison.”

“Because I trust you more than I trust her.” Coleen didn’t bother to look at Alison as she spoke.

“High praise, Coleen.” Ash looked at Alison. “Are you all right with this?”

Anything that didn’t involve Tom being bait to flush out three witches seemed exponentially better to Alison. “Absolutely.”

Coleen turned to Bryce. “Tell us everything you know about these witches.”

Bryce hesitated, trying to decide where to begin. “I killed her son shortly after I was turned. We had known each other in Boston before I became a vampire.” The woman managed a faint smile as Alison took her hand reassuringly in hers.

“She killed my maker and I was left - unattended.” Bryce winced at the memory. “I knew her as Abitha, but the two women she was with the other night called her Annabel.”

Bryce shook her head, her eyes focused on the grain in the wood floor.  “Our paths have crossed over the centuries, but I don’t know how she found me this time. Rotten luck, I guess, but what I know of Abitha - ah, Annabel, once she sets her mind to something, it usually happens.”

Alison heard a click in her head as her heart began to race. Her mouth went dry as she recalled what weeks ago had seemed like an odd but uneventful exchange with her colleague about Bryce. “Annabel? What does she look like?”

Bryce’s brow furrowed as she looked at Alison. The human’s face had gone pale. “She’s medium height, long black hair, tan complexion with brown eyes.”

It was Ash who asked the obvious question. “Ali, do you know her?”

Alison nodded. “She’s a colleague at the university. She asked about Bryce several weeks ago. I didn’t think much of it at the time.”

Bryce’s green eyes widened. “What did she ask?”

Alison looked up, trying to recall the details of the conversation. “She saw us in the hall after that first day of class. She asked if you were a student. I told her you were auditing the class and then she excused herself.” Alison looked down at the floor. “I ran into her a week or so later while I was having lunch with my sister, and she referenced you, but - it honestly hadn’t occurred to me.”

“There’s no reason it should have.” Emma assured her.

“Then there’s Christine. One of the women who kidnapped you had been - I guess you would call it stalking me.” Alison scanned the room and could see from the confused expressions on everyone’s faces that she needed to explain.

“A woman approached me on campus and said she had a present for me - or something like that. It was a rock and even though I declined it, I found it bouncing around my car later.” Alison took a deep breath and wished she hadn’t already finished her whiskey.

“She turned up in the aquatic center a while later.” Alison looked at a concerned Bryce. “You remember when we saw each other during your class?” The redhead cautiously nodded. “I found another stone after that.”

“Where is the stone?” Coleen broke the group’s silence.

“I gave it to a colleague for analysis and I thought it was silly at the time, but now I wonder if my suspicions about it weren’t true.”

“Christ, would you get to the point?” Rayven chided.

Ignoring the woman, Alison continued. “I think the rocks were acting like some sort of GPS. I know how stupid that sounds, Rayven, so spare me the reprimand.”

Rayven opened her mouth to speak, but then shrugged. “You said it, not me.”

“It’s not stupid.” Emma interrupted the exchange. “There are certain types of rock that over the centuries witches have learned to hone in on their chemical properties and essentially locate the rock  - or in this case, the barrier of the rock.” Shaking her head, the doctor’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand the science behind it.”

“Maybe it isn’t science?” Lewis drank the last drops of his gimlet. “When I was growing up in Virginia, there was always talk of magic and voodoo. Mostly around the slave quarters. I know not everything can be explained with an equation and a slide rule.”

Ash looked at Bryce and shrugged. “Rotten luck then, like you said.”

It was the simplest explanation, but one that didn’t ring true for Bryce. She had done so many horrific and selfish acts in her life and sent so much wrong out into the world that it seemed only fair she was reaping what she had sown. In this moment, what seemed absolutely true to Bryce was the suffering she had caused was finding its way back to her.

“Then it’s settled. Ash and Alison will go see the reporter and address any - ah, irregularities they might find there.” Coleen walked toward the door.

Ash scoffed. “I’m not killing anyone, Coleen, and I’m not standing by while you or -” She looked suspiciously at Rayven. “Or while any of your minions do.”

“Sure, sure.” Coleen half-heartedly assured the detective.

“She’s terrible.” Ash got up and looked at Alison. “Can you please give Tom a call and arrange a meeting? Preferably this afternoon.”

The professor nodded slowly. “Yes, but then what?”

Ash signed. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” She shook her head as she finished the last of her rum and coke. “Nothing like improvisation with people’s lives on the line.”

Alison remained seated, Bryce next to her, as the vampires and Ash filed silently out of the room. “I’m coming with you.” The redhead’s assertion broke the silence.

Shaking her head, Alison considered Bryce’s offer. “No. It’s easier - with Ash being a detective - to explain why she’s come with me.”

Bryce hesitated and finally nodded. “That makes sense.”

Alison smiled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “You’ll miss me a lot.” There’s that bedroom voice at the wrong time and place, again.

“Yes. A lot.” Looking at the blonde’s neck, Bryce’s eyes flashed a bright green and she frowned. “You don’t have to do any of this.” Her voice was charged with emotion as her hand tightened around Alison’s.

Looking at the beautiful redhead sitting next to her, Alison frowned. “But I kinda do.”

Shaking her head, Bryce slid down onto her knees in front of Alison and took both her hands in hers. “Just leave. Take a vacation. Come back in a few weeks. I assure you Coleen would have taken alternate paths.” She looked down nervously at the floor. “Ones that don’t involve you putting your life in danger.”

Leaning forward, Alison put a reassuring hand on Bryce’s shoulder. “But it already is in danger and at least this way I have a say in how that’s handled.”

Bryce chewed nervously at the inside of her cheek, her eyes fixed downward. “You - you don’t owe me anything.”

Alison placed her finger under Bryce’s chin and gently raised the woman’s gaze to meet hers. Everything Bryce had shared with her afforded Alison understanding of a simple truth about the woman in front of her. Not many people had ever helped Bryce, either as a human or a vampire. At least not without ulterior motives.

For the first time, Alison could see that Bryce’s reserved, awkward nature - though in part due to the enormous secrets she bore - were also her way of maintaining a distance from others - and the emotional harm she believed they would inevitably inflict on her. It seemed ironic to Alison that in spite of all her power, the vampire suffered from the same insecurities and uncertainties as any human.

“You’re wrong.” Alison spoke slowly. She wanted to ensure the earnestness of her feelings were evident in her words. “We’re here - together, and we share this space along with all its inhabitants.” She leaned in and smiled at Bryce. “For good or ill, we’re obligated to each other.”

Then Bryce kissed Alison. Her cool lips pressing gently to the warmth of the human’s mouth, a smile spread across the vampire’s lips as she inhaled deeply, allowing herself - for the first time - to take in all of this remarkable woman.

Chapter 13

Tom grabbed his Chromebook from the dining room table, patted the front pocket of his Levis, and finding his car keys, walked toward the door. Alison’s call had been cryptic and his curiosity was piqued as to why, after a week of radio silence, the beautiful professor was reaching out with such urgency.

He stopped short of the front door when a loud knock filled the space. Startled, Tom dropped his keys to the floor. “Shit.” The rapping on the hollow aluminum door came louder. “Hold on!” Bending down to pick the keys up, a wave of heat and static forced him onto his back.

Catching his breath, the prone man looked up to see three women entering his apartment. He didn’t recognize any of them, and his mind was struggling to process their sudden and violent entrance into his home.

“Restrain him.” The tallest of the three women, whose black hair hung loose around her face and shoulders, stepped over Tom as she spoke.

A thin woman stood at Tom’s feet, her black hair cut short against her head, a demonic smile spread across her face. Her mouth was disproportional to the rest of her face and reminded Tom of the Joker from the Batman comics he read as a child.

A tingling began in the center of Tom’s chest and was quickly replaced with a repressive weight blanketing itself over his entire body. Unable to move his head, Tom’s eyes darted back and forth, his breath coming in short bursts.

“Who are you?” The man managed through his labored breathing.

“Who is hardly important. Why we are here should be of greater concern to you.” The tall woman with long black hair crouched down next to Tom, the scent of musk and patchouli wafting over him.

“Can we get on with this?” The third woman, who had disappeared from Tom’s line of sight as soon as the women had entered the room, spoke. He had barely managed to register her heavier frame and short brown pageboy cut hair . Now the venom in the woman’s voice caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end.

The taller woman rolled her eyes. “Patience is a virtue.”

A quiet laugh came from behind Tom. “What would you know about virtue?”

Shrugging, the woman stood up, peering down at Tom. “True, but I am well acquainted with vices.”

The three women laughed in unison and the sound sent a shiver down Tom’s spine. He tried to shift, a faint cramp building in his left side from the angle of his body. The black haired woman, whose gaze had momentarily left Tom, refocused her attentions back on the man and immediately the pressure on his chest, arms, and legs doubled.

“Please. Whatever you want, I’m sure we can work it out.” Tom forced the panic out of his voice as he strained against the invisible restraints.

The tall woman knelt next to Tom, her brown eyes narrowing as she looked the man up and down. “It seems only fair to tell you that if you don’t cooperate you’ll be dead in about ten minutes.” Standing up, her back to the man, she sighed. “These things can’t be helped.”

Choking back a sob, Tom cleared his throat. “I - I’m sure we can work it out.” Tears began to stream from the corners of the man’s eyes.  “And if you think I’ll identify you or report you, I promise -”

“Stop.” The woman turned and looked down at the man, roughly wiping at his face with her hand. “Just stop. Have some dignity.” Rubbing her damp hand over her chest, she took a deep breath. “Some pride.”

A rush of anger and frustration coursed through Tom, emboldening him as he lifted his head off the floor. “Fuck you!” Turning his rage on the woman at his feet, he practically spat the words.

“Terrible language, Tom.” Tisking, the woman knelt next to the man. “Where’s Alison Bailey?”

Tom’s eyes widened when he saw the heavyset woman begin circling him, her eyes narrowed in concentration. “Alison? What does she have to do -” A pain akin to a hot poker being thrust into the man’s right bicep forced a scream from between his clenched teeth. Looking down, his arm was red and inflamed, but nothing was protruding from the wound.

“Victoria has a special talent. I would encourage you to leave the questions to me or she can relocate that burning to just behind your right eye.” A faint smile spread across the raven haired woman’s lips. “Now - Alison?”

“I - I don’t know.” Tom wouldn’t wish these three women on his worst enemy, much less someone he considered a friend. He had no intention of turning this pack on Alison. “I haven’t heard from her in over a week.”

“Yes, she has gone off the grid. Makes the hunt more interesting, if not unnecessarily drawn out.” Standing up, the woman nodded at the short haired woman. A split second later, Tom’s head was spinning as his body was lifted up off the floor and quickly turned over. Static electricity coursed through him.

Upside down, the blood rushed to Tom’s face as he panted, tears streaming off his face onto the beige carpet. A tearing sound filled the room and his t-shirt fell to the floor in shreds. Unable to turn his head at all now, Tom slammed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the onslaught.

A mild itch started at the center of his back and began spreading across his shoulder blades. Clamping his teeth together so hard he thought for sure he had shattered them, Tom stifled a scream, determined not to give his tormentors the pleasure.

“More.” The tall woman’s voice broke through Tom’s pain and a moment later the unbearable itching turned into an intense burning. His eye’s opened as a wave of nausea rippled through him, the putrid scent of burning hair and flesh filling the room seconds before Tom’s lunch came up in a series of violent retches.

The sound of popping and sizzling flesh emanated from the man’s back as the woman’s voice filled his head. “Alison. Where is she?”

Spittle streamed from his mouth as grunts of agony escaped in spite of his efforts to contain them. The room spun again and the blaze that had consumed his back lessened as the ceiling of his apartment came into focus.

“Fine. Subject change.” The woman ran her fingers along Tom’s exposed chest, the smell of patchouli filling the room. “The articles you’re working on with Alison - who’s seen them?”

Barely able to keep his thoughts in order, and feeling the darkness of unconsciousness creeping into the back of his brain, Tom swallowed. “No - no one.”

He felt a warm hand laid flat on his chest as the woman’s lips were pressed to his ear. “This has not gone as well as I would have hoped.” The woman’s hand felt as if it were vibrating on Tom’s chest as his heart began to pound in his throat and ears. “Let’s speed you up a bit, get those creative juices flowing as they say.”

“Sto - I can’t -” Unable to catch his breath, Tom’s body began to spasm.

“Wait - not yet.” The woman’s hand was still on his chest. “Alison?”

Tom knew no matter what he told the woman, she would kill him. The realization that he was going to die washed over him and he was surprised when no sense of fear or dread followed. In the end, it was a simple notion, a soothing realization that he cared for Alison and would protect her. He was relieved at how easily he had found the courage to defy his tormentor.

His throat burned and when he spoke, Tom’s voice was tight and low. “Go to hell.”

“What a waste.” The woman sighed and moved away from Tom. Looking at Victoria, she rubbed her thumb and forefinger together absently. “Burn him. Slowly. From the inside out.”

***

“I don’t think we should be doing this, Ash.” Alison looked over her shoulder as the detective picked the lock of Tom Hutchinson’s apartment.

“This is no time to go ACLU on me, Ali. The man is a no show for our meeting and isn’t answering his phone.” Ash stopped the work on the lock and looked at Alison. “Besides -” Frowning, she shook her head. “Never mind.”

“Besides what?” Alison felt a pang of panic at the dire look on Ash’s face.

Crinkling her nose, Ash resumed her work on the lock. “It doesn’t smell great in there.”

Alison took a deep breath through her nose. “I don’t smell anything.”

A series of clicks came from the deadbolt and Ash put the two thin metal pins she had been using in her pant pocket. “Perk of the whole shifter thing.” Tapping the side of her nose with her index finger, she took a deep breath. “Or curse, depending on what I’m smelling. Wait here.”

Alison wasn’t inclined to argue with her friend. If something horrible had happened to Tom, she knew she didn’t have the stomach to not make the scene worse by vomiting.

Ash opened the door and, entering the apartment, quickly closed the door behind her, leaving Alison alone in the walkway. After nearly five minutes, Alison gently knocked on the door. “Ash?” She waited, her stomach turning as her heart raced, a thin film of sweat forming on her brow. When no reply came, she slowly turned the doorknob.

Opening the door just enough to see the beige Berber carpet that lined the entryway, Alison raised her voice. “Tom? Ash?” The scent of burnt meat and plastic wafted over Alison and she stifled a dry heave.

“Don’t come in!” Ash’s voice was tight and urgent. “This is Detective Haines, badge 36952 -”

Alison’s mouth went dry as she heard Ash telling a dispatcher she was at the scene of a homicide. “Oh, god.” Covering her mouth, she took a step back from the door.

“Ali, wait out there.” Ash instructed. “Officers will be here shortly.” The detective appeared in the doorway. “Just tell the truth. You and Tom were working on an article, he didn’t show up for a meeting, and you found him. You and I are friends, so you called me first.” Ash reached for the scared woman’s hand. “Okay?”

“How?” The blonde’s voice was weak and barely above a whisper, her throat dry.

“Doesn’t matter.” Ash looked over her shoulder.

“Did he - suffer?” Biting her lower lip, Ash nodded, and tears flooded Alison’s eyes. She knew the details mattered. Even though she had always been under the impression there was no good way to die, some ends were preferable to others.

“Ali.” Ash stepped the rest of the way through the door and took the shaken woman in her arms. “Go back to the car. I’ll come get you when the officers arrive.” She held the woman tightly, wishing desperately she could spare her this grief.

Pulling back from Ash, Alison wiped her face. “No. I’ll stay here.” The truth was she didn’t want to be alone, even if it meant loitering outside a crime scene.

Ash hugged her again and Alison tried to find comfort in the reassuring embrace. All she could think was how decent Tom had been, and that no one - but particularly him - deserved to die like this. The smell of burnt flesh and hair hit Alison again and she gagged, the realization that Tom had been burned pushing sour bile into her mouth.

Stepping back, Ash rubbed Alison’s back as the blonde bent over, trying to force back a full-on retch. “Shhh - it’s okay, sweetie. Just breathe.”

Alison wanted Bryce, but knew the woman’s presence would only add to what was sure to be a slew of questions. “I’m going to call Bryce. I know she can’t be here, but she - I need to talk to her.”

Ash wasn’t sure that was the best idea. She didn’t know the redhead well enough to discern the possibility of her rushing over in a fit of protectiveness, but Alison seemed desperate to at least talk to the woman; so Ash excused herself.

“Are you okay?” Bryce’s voice was layered with concern when she answered the phone. “You’re upset.”

Suppressing a sob, Alison cleared her throat before she spoke. “Tom is dead.”

“What’s the address? I’m coming over.”

“No. The police will be here in a minute and I don’t want to have to explain multiple relationships.” Alison cringed, hating the way that sounded. She quickly corrected herself. “Not that you and I are anything to explain, I mean-”

“Ali, it’s okay. I understand. Ash is there with you then?” Bryce’s voice was low and reassuring.

Nodding, Alison wiped at the tears which continued to flow unchecked. “Yeah. She’s here.”

“Then you’ll be fine.” Bryce soothed Alison.

“Thank you.” Alison felt the comforting tones of Bryce’s voice run through her and she was finally able to catch her breath. “I’ll call you later.”

Bryce hesitated. She wanted to tell Alison how much she meant to her. How the idea of anything to do with her causing the beautiful woman this much pain made Bryce ache with regret. She had no words and feared anything she might say would only make matters worse or more confusing for Alison. “Take care.”

Ash emerged from the apartment and quickly closed the door behind her. “Everything okay?” She reached for Alison’s hand.

Alison gently squeezed her friend’s hand. “Not even close, but I’ll manage.”

“They cleaned out the place. No cell phone, laptop, USB - nothing.” Ash rubbed the back of her neck.

“It was Annabel and her gaggle of crazy. Right?” Alison quickly interjected.

“Odds are good.” Pulling her cell phone from her pant pocket, Ash quickly texted Emma. “I’m letting Emma know what’s happened and that you and I will be here for a while once the police arrive.” Putting her phone back in her pocket, Ash took a deep breath. “She may get assigned the case - if we could get that lucky.”

“Would it matter?”

“It could.” Ash glanced up and saw two uniformed officers coming down the walkway. Lowering her voice, she looked closely at Alison. “The less suspicion the better.” Smiling, she stepped around Alison and addressed the officers. “Ghantt - Hernandez, sorry we’re meeting under these circumstances.”

The taller Hispanic officer nodded. “Good to see you, Detective Haines. CSI is on their way. What’s happened?”

Alison stood perfectly still, forcing eye contact with the two uniformed officers as Ash explained their version of what had transpired. The exchange became a low hum in Alison’s ears as her thoughts wandered to Bryce and both the incredible and horrific world their relationship had opened up to her.

Shortly after, two homicide detectives arrived. Their names were blurs to Alison, who numbly took their business cards. She managed to not cry while answering their questions regarding her relationship with Tom Hutchinson and what she may have known about his murder.

“You should call Bryce to come get you now, Ali.” Ash gently placed her hand on the blonde’s back. “You’re done here.”

The relief that washed over Alison was palatable and a long exhale of breath ensued. “Okay. Great.” She reached for her phone and texted Bryce Tom’s address. Bryce responded within a minute that she would be there shortly and would text Alison to meet her in the parking lot.

Alison leaned against the wall, her entire body tense. She struggled against her instinct to numb the pain, knowing that would only make it worse later. She liked Tom; the heinousness of his murder was unbearable. Knowing why he died pushed Alison to the brink of hysterics and she felt the tightness of it closing around her throat.

“Should I walk you down?” Ash asked as Alison received Bryce’s text that she had arrived.

“No. I’m fine.” Alison couldn’t make eye contact with her friend.

“That’s bullshit, Ali, but I’ll let you off easy, considering...” Ash nodded toward the apartment.

“It’s obvious?” Alison felt the slow spinning in her head begin to pickup speed.

“It’s appropriate.” Ash smiled. “Get going. I’ll call y’all tonight.”

Grateful for how well Ash understood her, Alison simply nodded and walked toward the parking lot. The need to flee the scene of Tom’s death pushed her into a rapid walk as she rounded the corner and saw Bryce’s white Corolla parked near the entrance to the apartment complex.

It occurred to Alison as she crossed the parking lot that Annabel could still be there, watching and waiting. The fear took Alison by surprise and she hated that she had succumbed to it.

Bryce emerged from the car, clad in a pair of jeans and a long sleeve black t-shirt, with her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. She quickly walked toward Alison and pulled her to her. The two women embraced and without speaking, made their way back to Bryce’s car.

The silence seemed to thicken the air in the car as they drove toward Alison’s house, causing Bryce to clear her throat before speaking. “Do you want to talk about what happened?” Alison couldn’t help the quick smile that flashed across her face at the cliché question.

“What?” Bryce frowned, confused by Alison’s reaction.

Shaking her head, Alison ran her fingers through her hair and sank lower into the car seat, the weight of the day pushing into her. “Nothing, I just wouldn’t know where to start.”

The remainder of the drive went quickly as Bryce maneuvered the car through the city and into Alison’s neighborhood. Walking into the house, surrounded by the familiarity of her home, Alison felt some semblance of herself return.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Bryce tucked her car keys into her jean pocket as she looked expectantly at Alison. “Or, would you prefer I wait outside? Give you some time.”

Alison had just sat down on the couch when Bryce caught her by surprise with the question. Looking up, she could see the uncertainty in the woman. Her shoulders were tense and her eyes moved nervously around the room, unwilling to settle on Alison.

The pushing and pulling that waged inside her was keeping Alison off center and feeling unbalanced. She had never had a taste for drama or tragedy. In spite of her feelings for the woman standing in front of her, she was overwhelmed with dread and worry.

“I need a few minutes on my own.” Alison got up and though her body ached to be near Bryce, she stepped toward the hall leading to her bedroom. “I’m going to lie down, please - just - just wait here.” Her eyes brimmed with tears, her voice verging on pleading.

Bryce’s expression was blank and she simply nodded as the blonde woman left the room. Shutting the door to her bedroom, Alison lay across her bed and took several deep breaths. Tears began to flow as her thoughts spun off into the countless outcomes that might await her.

She knew there was a very real chance she could meet the same fate as Tom, or worse - the people she cared about could. The situation was an extreme opportunity for her to move beyond the boundaries she had militantly enforced over the years, and the risk to reward ratio was what she was struggling with.

You don’t owe me anything. Bryce’s words came back to Alison and she rolled onto her side, wiping at her tear stained cheeks, her head beginning to ache from crying. She felt rotten and sick to her stomach for even considering walking away from Bryce. She was falling in love with the woman against her better judgment, in spite of her tendency toward the safe and known.

Part of her was resentful for the confusion and suffering her relationship with the vampire was causing. But then, somewhere, either in her heart or her head - Alison couldn’t be sure - she knew she wasn’t being diminished by what was happening around her; rather, she was being changed. There was no ideal world, life, or relationship. There was only how she chose to move through the spaces around her that mattered.

A faint knock on her bedroom door brought Alison out of her musing and she sat up in bed. “Yes?”

Bryce opened the door slowly, peering into the dimly lit bedroom. “I’m going to call Ash and see if she can come over. Or Emma maybe. I need to leave.” The woman’s voice wavered slightly as she spoke.

Alison sat on the edge of the bed. “Why?”

“I have some things to take care of and I don’t want to leave you alone.” Bryce looked down at the floor as she spoke.

Alison stood up, but didn’t feel certain enough about her own feelings to close the literal or figurative space between her and Bryce. “That’s not what I meant. Why do you want to leave?”

Bryce looked up, her green eyes glowing in the low light of the room. Alison took a deep breath to steady herself, wanting nothing more than to touch the beautiful woman. “I don’t want to leave, but I think you’re right. You could use some time on your own. This isn’t easy for you.”

Alison’s feet managed to move and a second later she was standing a few feet from Bryce. “I don’t know what I want, but you telling me you’re leaving makes me unhappy; so for now, I’ll take that to mean I don’t want you to leave.”

Bryce’s face remained stoic as she managed to finally make eye contact with Alison. “I’m not very good at talking about how I feel. I wasn’t when I was human and that hasn’t gotten any better.”

Smiling, Alison walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. “We’re being forced to fast forward our relationship - a sprint, when I think we both prefer a leisurely run.” She looked intently at Bryce, trying to gage her reaction. The redhead remained perfectly still.

Clearing her throat, Alison went on. “I really need you to say something.”

It was several seconds before Bryce spoke and when she did, Alison had to strain to hear her. “I want you.” Swallowing, the woman shook her head. “I mean I want you in my life. I don’t even know how to make you happy, but -” Looking down, Bryce struggled. “But I want to try.” Her eyes met Alison’s. “I need to make you happy. It - it makes me happy.”

The visceral response of elation and relief Alison had to Bryce’s admission told her more about her feelings than any number of hours contemplating them could. Reaching her hand toward the redhead, Alison gestured for the woman to join her. Cautiously, Bryce sat down on the bed next to Alison.

Taking Bryce’s cool hand in hers, she entwined their fingers. Bringing the tip of Bryce’s finger to her lips, Alison gently kissed it, then turned her attention to the smoothness of the vampire’s palm.

Bryce looked at Alison and lifted her hand to gently stroke the woman’s hair. The two women embraced and Bryce clung to Alison, her arms wrapped firmly around her shoulders. Alison shifted and found Bryce’s lips.

A quiet sigh escaped Bryce. Alison gently laid her back on the bed and ran her warm hand up under the vampire’s shirt, her smooth, cool skin sending a shock of heat up Alison’s arm. Bending over, Alison lifted the hem of Bryce’s shirt, reveling in the flat planes of her stomach.

The fullness and warmth of the blonde’s lips as she placed a series of light kisses across her stomach caused a shutter to ripple through Bryce as her fingers entwined in Alison’s short locks.

Sliding onto the floor, Alison kneeled between Bryce’s legs. Releasing the button on the redhead’s jeans, Alison pulled the fabric aside. She placed a series of kisses on each inch of newly exposed skin and delicately bit the woman’s jutting hip bones. Leaning back, Alison pulled Bryce’s jeans down and off, discarding them in a pile on the floor next to her.

The scent of orange and vanilla wafted over Alison as she ran her tongue up the inside of Bryce’s thigh. The tips of the vampire’s fingers dug into the flesh of Alison’s shoulders as a moan escaped the redhead. Bryce’s back arched as Alison began to suck and lick her hardened clit, her hips instinctively rocking back and forth.

Alison entered Bryce slowly. Marveling at how tight the woman under her was, Alison was unable to stifle the accompanying moan that escaped her own lips, the taste and feel of the beautiful woman stirring a well of longing and desire in the pit of the blonde’s stomach.

With increased urgency, Alison thrust her fingers deeper into Bryce, her tongue maintaining constant pressure on the vampire’s clit as she strained against Alison’s onslaught. A stifled cry filled the room as Bryce climaxed, her body tensing around Alison. Moments later, Bryce clutched at Alison, pulling her up from the floor so she lay next to her.

“Wait. There’s time. I just want to hold you right now.” Hearing the words leave her mouth, Alison blushed and covered her face with her hand. “God, that sounded so cheesy out loud.”

Bryce pulled the woman’s hand down, a smile on her perfect lips. “Why?”

“Come on. I sound like a stereotype from one of those awful lesbian romance novels.” She turned her face into the pillow.

Bryce kissed her cheek and neck, the heat of Alison’s embarrassment making her ears especially warm to the touch. “I don’t read those, but I liked what you said.”

Cautiously opening one eye, and then the other, Alison looked at Bryce. Not hearing or seeing any hint of irony, she pulled the woman to her, burying her face in the side of the vampire’s neck. “Well, now I don’t want to wait.”

***

“It’s a vampire cabal and I’m feeling like the odd human out… or lunch.” Alison gripped Bryce’s hand tightly as they stood on Coleen’s doorstep.

Laughing, Bryce leaned over and kissed the nervous woman on the cheek. “You were great the first time; so I have no doubt you’ll hold your own again. Kind of like last night.” The woman smirked.

A flush reddened Alison’s face as she recalled their lovemaking the night before. “You’re funny. And classy.” She playfully poked at the woman’s arm. She had noticed that after Bryce’s secrets and feelings were revealed, the woman seemed to be more comfortable in her own skin. And Alison was enjoying the more open Bryce. “Now, back to my panic attack. Aren’t there two more vampires this time?”

Alison was talking about the text Ash had sent Bryce a few hours prior. The detective had asked the two women to come back to Coleen’s. Evidently Rachel Collins and Sara Glass had just returned from a trip to Italy and needed to be brought up to speed on the situation. Alison had no idea how friendly - if at all - the two would be toward her as the lone human in the group.  Granted, no one had tried to eat her last time, but she couldn’t assume all vampires would be as restrained as those she’d met so far.

“I’m sure Ash wouldn’t have asked you to come along if there were any issues.” Bryce assured Alison as she hooked her arm through Bryce’s.

Nodding, Alison took a fortifying breath as the front door opened. A clearly annoyed Rayven greeted them with a pronounced eye roll as she left the door open and walked back into the house.

“I don’t think she likes me.” Alison stated matter-of-factly.

“Count your blessings. You’ve managed to shut her up at least.” Bryce and Alison walked into the house hand-in-hand and were greeted by Lewis.

“Ladies, I was just making myself a drink. Can I get you anything?” Even dressed in a casual pair of jeans and a cinnamon red t-shirt, Alison thought he was the most beautiful man she had ever met. It helped that he was gracious and clearly harbored no ill will toward her or Bryce.

“I think I should keep my wits about me, Lewis, but thank you.” Alison smiled broadly at the man.

“I’m good, too. Thank you.” Bryce scanned the entryway of the house. “Where is everyone?”

“Coleen is on a call; Rachel and Sara are in the study. I can show you there if you would like.” He flashed a genuine smile at the two women.

“I know where it is. Go get that drink.” Bryce steered Alison down a long hall, past a series of closed doors and into a large library.

The room was lined with floor to ceiling oak shelves, each filled with a variety of leather bound books. Alison scanned the shelves to find most of the titles weren’t in English, but what looked like Spanish, Italian, and possibly Greek.

“Hello.” Alison had been so absorbed in the extensive amount of literature around her, she hadn’t noticed the two women sitting on a large leather sofa across the room. The woman walking toward them exuded grace, beauty, and poise. Her shoulder length chestnut colored hair had hints of auburn throughout and looked like strands of silk. Her skin was pale and flawless, her vividly green eyes reminded Alison of Bryce’s.

“Hi.” Bryce was the first to extend her hand toward the woman. “I’m Bryce Whelan.”

“Rachel Collins, and this is Sara Glass.” The beautiful brunette turned toward the couch as a tall woman, who, like Rachel and Bryce, had perfectly pale skin, walked toward them. Her flawless features were accented by her long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.

“Hi, I’m Sara.” The equally beautiful second woman extended her hand to Alison first.

“Alison Bailey. Nice to meet you both.” She released Sara’s hand and shook Rachel’s outstretched one. Both women smiled reassuringly at Alison and Bryce.

“Should we sit?” Sara turned and walked toward the sofa and the two wooden Sheraton style chairs that flanked it.

As Rachel and Sara sat in the chairs, the smoothness and grace of their movements were both mesmerizing and disconcerting to Alison. She and Bryce sat next to each other on the leather sofa. Bryce reached for her hand and took it between hers.

The two vampires looked at the human and Bryce, and then at each other, Rachel’s brow arched slightly. “How long have you two known each other?”

“A couple of months.” Alison responded, not sure where the vampire was going with this line of questioning.

“That’s great.” Sara chimed in with a smile.

The four women sat for several awkward seconds, no one making eye contact. The only sound in the room was the ticking of a small mantel clock sitting over a fireplace along the far wall of the study.

“Should someone tell a joke?” Bryce’s slight brogue accent broke the silence and all four women laughed.

“We’re sorry, please forgive our manners, but we arrived back from a vacation to an urgent message from Coleen and absolutely no details as to why she wanted us here.” Rachel got up and crossed the space so she could stand behind Sara. Placing her hands on the woman’s shoulders, she smiled. “It’s left us a little on edge.”

Sara covered one of Rachel’s hands with hers. “We really are more fun than this.”

The tension in Alison’s shoulders lessened as she began to relax with the two women. Rachel seemed more formal than Sara, or older maybe, and Alison couldn’t help but think she recognized the blonde from somewhere.

“Sara, did you give a lecture on environmental ethics at Incarnate Word a few years ago?” Alison asked, still not sure this was the same woman.

“I’m an environmental attorney, and if memory serves, I did actually speak at the university. Did you attend?” The woman’s face lit up with a full smile.

“I’ll admit I was dragged there by a colleague, but ended up enjoying it. You’re a very dynamic speaker.”

Sara looked up at Rachel, who was smiling. “What a small world.”

“Global village.” Alison grinned.

“Is everyone making nice?” Coleen entered the room with Lewis behind her.

Rachel dropped her hands from Sara’s shoulders and returned to her seat. “Lovely to see you again too, Coleen.”

Coleen went to the small bar cart in the corner and poured herself a glass of sherry. “I do my best.” She looked at the blonde vampire, who sat with her legs crossed, and managed a weak smile. “Sara.”

“Coleen.” The otherwise friendly woman’s posture changed and her brow furrowed as she looked at Rachel.

“Why are we here, Coleen?” Rachel asked.

“I would prefer to wait for Emma and Ash to arrive. It’s such a dreary story, I loathe the idea of repeating it.” The dark haired beauty took a sip of the sherry. “In the meantime, Rachel, this is Lewis Thomas. Lewis, Rachel Collins.”

Alison watched as the two vampires exchanged pleasantries and was confused by the absence of an introduction of Sara.

Clearly irritated with Coleen, Rachel reached for Sara, who stood and greeted Lewis. “Sara Glass. Nice to meet you.”

“Did I commit a social faux pas?” Coleen placed her slender index finger over her lips in a mocking fashion. “I never can tell.”

“I assume you always will when the opportunity presents itself, Coleen.” Sara smirked as she slid her arm around Rachel’s waist, giving her a quick squeeze and then sitting back down.

Clearly, there was history between the two women. Alison was certain Sara had not been a vampire when she attended the woman’s lecture a few years ago. She remembered thinking the blonde was attractive, but now, she was breathtaking. Resolved to squelch her curiosity and avoid bringing additional tension to an already tightly wound situation, Alison did not ask the obvious questions.

“Where are Emma and Ash?” Bryce asked, sitting back down on the sofa.

“On their way. Something about work delaying them. Honestly I tuned out.” Coleen refilled her sherry.

“Your work ethic has always been questionable.” Lewis jabbed as he pulled two more Sheraton style chairs from a nearby table and placed them across from the sofa. He sat down gracefully in the one closest to Sara.

Before Coleen could respond, Ash and Emma walked in the room, with Rayven following closely behind. “Our apologies for being late.” Emma put her oversized Louis Vuitton purse down on the walnut desk behind the seating area. Alison continued to appreciate the woman’s style as she admired the black J. Crew pencil skirt and the cobalt blue colored silk blouse Emma wore.

“I think we were early.” Lewis smiled, and the two exchanged affectionate glances with one another.

“If we’re not ten minutes early, Em thinks we’re late.” Ash commented, a teasing grin on her face. “Has everyone been introduced?”

Alison scanned the group and nodded. “I think so.”

“Good. Coleen, do you want to explain or should I?” Ash stood behind Lewis as Emma took a seat in the chair next to the man.

“By all means, detective.” Coleen smirked.

Slipping into her professional persona, Ash began to debrief the group. “There are three witches in the city. The leader, Annabel, is an old friend turned enemy of Bryce’s and, unknown to us until recently, a colleague of Alison’s. She, along with her coven, have already killed three vampires, kidnapped and nearly killed Bryce, and just yesterday, murdered a reporter Alison had been working with.”

“Jesus.” Sara shifted in her seat. “Witches? I had no idea they existed.”

Alison took that opportunity to ask the question she had put off earlier. “How long have you been a vampire?”

“A little over a year.” Sara looked at Rachel. “Did you know such a thing was possible?”

Rachel shook her head. “No.”

“It’s not exactly a casual conversation topic.” Coleen chimed in. “And unless you’ve met one, or are having to deal with a group of them, there’s really no point in bringing it up.” She emptied her Sherry glass. “Their numbers are so diminished at this point, they hardly matter.”

“Until they do.” Bryce spoke up. “Annabel is over three hundred years old and very strong. She’s a Necromancer.”

“What does that mean?” Rachel asked.

Emma cleared her throat. “Based on the autopsy of the three bodies found on the Southside of the city, she is able to turn a vampire into a human, and then kill them.”

“Power over life and death.” Lewis spoke up. “It’s easier to kill a human than one of us.” He looked at Rachel. “We can take a lot of punishment and keep on coming.”

Emma nodded. “It would certainly make her job, and her accomplices’ work, easier.”

“Do the other two - ah, witches - have power as well?” Sara asked.

“Yes. At least one of them can set fire and control it.” Ash scanned the room as she spoke. “The reporter that was killed yesterday was burned.” She hesitated as her eyes met Alison’s. “The fire started in his internal organs and spread outward.”

Sara gasped. “My god, that’s terrible.”

Ash chewed nervously on the inside of her cheek. “We think the other woman is able to teleport and - Christ, this sounds ridiculous when I say it out loud - she has some type of telekinetic abilities.”

“Why do you think that?” Rachel asked, her jaw set as the conversation was clearly uncomfortable.

“Looking at the body from yesterday, I was able to find bruising consistent with someone being restrained, but the pressure points didn’t match any type of rope or chain I’ve ever seen.” The doctor stood and began pacing. “I did some research online. Most of it is hearsay and legend, but some of it coincided with our current situation. It’s evidently not unusual for a teleporter to also be able to manipulate the material world via telekinetic power.”

“Why are they going to all this trouble?” Sara looked at Bryce. “What happened between you two?”

Bryce looked down at her lap as Alison took her cool hand in hers. “We were lovers when I was human, briefly. When I was turned, she killed my maker, then I murdered her son.”

“An eye for an eye and the whole world goes blind.” Lewis frowned.

“It wasn’t like that.” Bryce looked intently at the man. “I was out of control and lost without the guidance of my maker.”

“Let’s not be too hard on Bryce.” Coleen interjected. “The bad blood – and yes, I completely intended that pun - between vampire and witch goes back to practically the beginning of time.”

“Why’s that?” Rachel scanned the room, clearly wanting answers.

“The witch is our only true threat. Particularly the Necromancers; so -” Coleen pursed her lips. “We may have been less than friendly over the millennia.”

“That’s an understatement.” Lewis interrupted. “We hunted them down and killed them. Entire covens were massacred by overzealous vampires set on maintaining what they thought was - and should be - the natural order.”

“The Inquisitions?” Alison hadn’t meant to speak, but her mind was racing with the possibilities and the reshaping of histories humans had held as truth.

“Sorry?” Rachel’s eyes flashed an intense green as she looked at Alison.

Suddenly with all eyes on her, Alison felt a knot in her stomach. Determined not to be viewed as a second class participant, though, she forced the words from her mouth. “The most famous of the Inquisitions was the one established by King Ferdinand II and Queen Isabella of Spain. They condoned the killing of thousands of Muslims and Jews who had been forced to convert to Catholicism, but were unconvincing - at least by the State’s measures - in their love of their new faith.”

Feeling short of breath from how rapidly she had been speaking, Alison took a slow breath in and then exhaled. “These early trials, along with some of the earliest witch trials on record in Germany during Pope Innocent VIII’s papacy, laid the ground work for the Salem witch trials in this country in the sixteen hundreds.”

“They were vampires.” Coleen spoke casually.

“Who? Ferdinand and Isabella?” Alison’s mouth was open in shock as the implications of this revelation ran through her mind.

“Yes, and his holy father, Giovanni the innocent.” The vampire chuckled as she referenced the pope’s birth name. “Laughable really. Of course most of the Catholic church’s power structure at the time was populated with vampires.” Coleen tisked. “I never could abide the comingling of faith and power. One almost always perverts the other.”

“So what does all this mean?” Sara stood and walked to the bar cart and poured herself a glass of sherry. She knew a drunken stupor was impossible, but given the enormity of what they were being told, she could at least pretend.

“It means we have to kill Annabel and her little clique.” Coleen rolled her eyes at the blonde. “Clearly, that’s the only solution.”

Sara put the bottle of sherry down, and tapping her nails on the small stemmed glass in her hand, she looked at Rachel. “I don’t like the idea of murdering people.”

“That hardly seemed to matter when you ripped poor Ela’s head off.” Rayven spoke for the first time, and as usual, managed to make matters worse.

Sara’s eyes flashed blue and Alison watched as her incisors slowly extended past her upper lip. A low growl came from Rayven as her obsidian eyes lightened and sparks of gray shot through them.

“Poor Ela?” Sara’s voice had dropped several octaves. “Are you serious? The woman was a sociopath.”

Alison felt Bryce’s hand tighten around hers and her lover shifted so her right shoulder was in front of Alison.

“This doesn’t accomplish anything.” Ash’s voice was even as she spoke. “And for the record -” The detective leveled her gaze at Rayven. “Ela was bat shit crazy; so Sara did us all a favor.”

“What do you know about it, shifter?” Rayven bared her teeth as she snarled at Ash.

“Stop.” Coleen sighed. “This is getting boring.” Rayven looked at Coleen and then back at Ash, clearly calculating what the repercussions would be if she took a bite out of the shifter.

Coleen’s eyes glowed an iridescent cobalt blue as she hissed at Rayven. “I said stop.”

The speed at which vampires could arrive at the edge of feral startled Alison, and she was gaining a newfound respect for the restraint Bryce - with the exception of the lake - was showing, considering she was supposed to be the least refined of the bunch.

“Can we refocus, please?” Emma stood shoulder to shoulder with Ash and sounded calmer than the situation warranted. The doctor looked at Sara. “I know it’s a terrible choice, but they don’t just pose a risk to us; humans are threatened as well. Anyone they see as a threat.”

Sara shook her head. “Can’t the same be said about us?”

Emma frowned. “I’ve only taken two human lives and I have to live with that - forever. But this is different.” She hesitated, clearly trying to find the right words. “If we leave this unchecked, they will continue to kill humans and vampire indiscriminately. I can assure you it will only get harder to stop them and conceal their true nature - and ours.”

Sara looked from Emma to Rachel. After a few seconds, Rachel nodded and Sara took a deep breath. “Okay. How can we help?”

Emma’s shoulders visibly relaxed as she sat back down. Alison sensed the tension in the room was lessening and a course of action was forthcoming. Looking around the room, she was struck by the fact the majority of the vampires were truly struggling with the decision to kill the witches. For the thousandth time since this had started, the professor was humbled by how little she actually knew of the world.

“What about the lycans?” Ash asked Emma in a lowered voice.

Emma’s brow arched. “Right.”

“Lycans? What’s this about?” Coleen’s tone sharpened and her eyes narrowed.

“While I was reviewing the autopsy results of the three vampires, I noticed the same comment on each regarding canine hair and saliva on the bodies. The coroner concluded roaming dogs must have scavenged the bodies. I pulled the samples and the thickness of the hair and the shape of the follicle shaft -” Emma looked at Alison, whose eyes were large with amazement and disbelief. “I have no doubt they were lycan.”

“Filthy animals, your cousins.” Coleen looked at Ash as she sat her empty sherry glass down on the end table. “They crawl into bed with anything if they think there’s something in it for them.” The woman’s eyes went to Emma for several seconds before continuing. “No matter. They’re easily handled.”

“We shouldn’t underestimate them if -” Ash attempted to interject, but stopped short when Coleen’s eyes lit up and her gaze focused on the detective.

“I said no matter. Your  cousins can be dispatched with relative ease.” The intensity of Coleen’s stare faltered and her tone softened. “You and I have dealt with them before.”

Ash was surprised by the unexpected sentimentality in the vampire’s voice and opted not to push the issue. “As long as we are all aware, and prepared.” The detective scanned the room for acknowledgement and seeing multiple heads nodding, was satisfied the group understood the challenge the wolves presented.

Alison sat next to Bryce, her palms sweating as she clung to her lover. She felt she was moving further from the center of the world she had known. She was navigating along a perilous course, fraught with expansive crevasses and jagged edges. She was casting off the sheltered and delicate world she had inhabited and replacing it with circumstances beyond her control, an ever changing horizon. To her astonishment, she wasn’t afraid - she was determined.

Chapter 14

“It’s for the best at this point. I hate that we’re not together, too, but you’ll be safe at your parents’.” Bryce kissed Alison’s hand while maneuvering her car along a two lane road in the Texas Hill Country. It was nearly three in the morning and the lights of the city had faded behind them.

“It sucks.” Alison had reluctantly agreed for Bryce and Rayven to drive her to her parents’ house near Canyon Lake. Wayne and Elaine were out of town at a convention and the house was empty for a week.

Rayven had been sent as Coleen’s emissary, to ensure everything was executed to the vampire’s specification. Coleen had been very clear, they had enough to worry about without having to work around human fragility. Alison knew she was right, but had resented the implication all the same, as well as the fact she was being left alone with the hostile vampire while Bryce was being wielded as bait to flush the witches out.

“Could you two just give me a small break, please? It’s bad enough I’m stuck in a car with you, but do I have to listen to this blathering?” Rayven seethed from the backseat of Bryce’s Corolla, her posture reminiscent of a petulant child with her arms crossed over her chest and her shoulders slumped.

Alison turned in her seat, and before she could deliver her retort, the air was knocked out of her lungs as the car suddenly began to tumble end-over-end down a roadside embankment. The strap of her seatbelt dug into her clavicle as pellets of safety glass pelted her face.

Disoriented, Alison was only vaguely aware she was being pulled free of the car by Bryce’s cool hands. One of the car’s headlights was still working, and illuminated the shadows near an adjacent tree line enough that Alison could see Rayven punching and biting the back of what looked like an enormous upright dog.

The animal was over seven feet in height, covered in coarse black hair, with its arms and legs abnormally long in comparison to its torso. Its massive wolf-like head jutted back and forth, snapping and biting at Rayven.

“Stay here. Near the car.” Bryce spoke quickly, and then a split second later was beside Rayven, grabbing the lycan’s legs, and slamming the animal to the ground. Bryce’s eyes glowed in the darkness, as low growls and hisses escaped her. A quick thrust of her fist into the animal’s chest, and a moment later, the vampire removed her hand, the lycan’s heart spasming in her clenched fist.

Crouching against the side of the overturned car, a low thunder came from the woods behind Alison. Then the vehicle began to shake as five lycans sprung off the car and toward the two vampires. Bryce took the brunt of the attack as four of the animals tackled her to the ground and dragged her into the woods, snarling, ripping and biting sounds filling the night.

The remaining lycan had managed to knock Rayven to the ground, and Alison couldn’t figure out why the woman wasn’t getting up. She seemed pinned, her arms and legs spread.

“I can’t hold her for much longer!” Christine’s shrill voice came from somewhere in the darkness, and Alison felt a shiver run up her spine.

Annabel stepped out of the shadows, clad in a pair of dark jeans, black leather riding boots, and a black scoop neck sweater, her long hair tied in a bun at the nape of her neck. Without a word, the woman knelt next to Rayven. The vampire hissed and spat, her incisors exposed, and the veins in her neck protruding.

“Hold still -- or don’t.  Either way, this will be very unpleasant.” Annabel held her hand a few inches above Rayven’s chest. Though the light was dim, Alison could see the vampire’s body begin to vibrate. Seconds later, Rayven began screaming hysterically, the sound piercing the air and bringing tears to Alison’s eyes.

Standing, Annabel addressed the remaining lycan. “Finish her, and then tell your brethren to bring the other one to me.” Something caught the woman’s eye, and she turned towards Alison. “I didn’t realize you were there, Alison.”

The witch walked toward the cowering woman . “You’re afraid.” Shaking her head, Annabel stopped. “Naturally, you’re of little consequence to the bigger picture - nothing new for you, I’m sure.” She looked toward the tree line. “Clearly, though, you’ve taken up with these things and restitution is due.”

Fear gripped Alison as she managed to stand. Her hands and legs shook, and she grabbed for the car to steady herself. “Annab -”

Bringing her index finger to her lips, Annabel whispered. “There’s no point.”

Rayven’s screams slammed Alison back to reality. Looking over the witch’s shoulder, her stomach turned.  The last lycan was tearing and ripping at the woman’s shoulders and neck, blood covering its elongated snout. A second later, Rayven was silent as the animal’s massive teeth sank into the front of her throat.

Annabel casually glanced over her shoulder. The lycan was growling as thick strands of Rayven’s blood and flesh hung from its muzzle. “She managed to leave this world in a relatively quick manner.” The woman turned and glared at Alison. “I showed her far more mercy than her kind has ever afforded me.”

Shrugging, the dark haired woman ambled toward Alison. “Professor, given your area of study, I’m sure you’re fluent in the methods for killing a witch?”

Alison stepped back, pressing her back to the side of the overturned car. “Annabel, we can talk through -”

“Shut up!” The woman’s voice cracked, the high pitch tone reminding Alison of nails down a chalkboard. Taking a deep breath, Annabel fanned her hand in front of her face, her voice calm again. “Clearly you didn’t realize I was asking a rhetorical question.”

Stepping to within a foot of Alison, the woman took a deep breath in through her nose, her eyes widening as she looked closely at Alison. “You’ve been with one.” Taking a step back, Annabel shook her head. “Bryce.” Getting no response from Alison, Annabel’s right hand pulled back, and quickly shot forward, delivering a vicious slap across Alison’s left cheek.

Covering the offended spot with her hands, Alison stifled a cry, determined not to give Annabel the satisfaction. Leveling her gaze at the dark haired woman, the professor clamped her jaw shut.

“Again, then.” Barely had the words left Annabel’s mouth before she was assaulting Alison with a barrage of slaps. Her face on fire, Alison managed to deflect several blows, before the woman finally stopped.

“The vampire is a disease, Alison. An abomination as close to pure evil as you will find on this earth. They have sought to stamp my kind out for millennia.” Seething, Annabel grabbed Alison by the front of her shirt. “They come to us cloaked in beauty and perfection, but their insides are rotten, misshapen beasts - wooing and trapping the sheep to the slaughter!”

Alison sunk to her knees as Annabel released her. Clapping her hands together, the witch’s voice verged on hysterical, her eyes lit up with excitement. “I want to show you what they’ve done to us, Alison. You need to know what these things you’ve taken up with are capable of.” Looking up, Annabel’s voice was flat. “Grab her.”

A vise like pressure wrapped around Alison’s ankle, to the point she thought it would snap as she was suddenly being pulled and bounced along the ground on her back, with tears streaming down her face.

Christine now stood next to Annabel, her face distorted into a wicked sneer. “Can we play for a while, first?”

Annabel laughed. “Not with this one.”

With a violent jolt, Alison was hanging upside down in midair, the blood rushing to her head as Christine spun her around several times before raising her high enough off the ground that Alison was now eye level with the two witches.

“There’s always the typical tie you up, toss you in the river, and see if you float method.” Annabel circled Alison as she spoke. “But that’s been overplayed.” Crouching down in front of Alison, the woman grabbed a handful of the blonde’s hair. “We could make you recite the Lord’s Prayer, but I find that particular one trite and a bit boring.”

Standing up, Annabel turned to Christine. “What do you think, sister?”

A short, shrill laugh escaped the woman. “Let’s strip her down and look for his mark.”

Annabel tisked. “That would be more for your amusement.” Pacing back and forth, the woman stopped, cocked her head to the side, and looked intently at Alison. “A less well known method was to bury us alive, but not before driving nails into our jaws.”

The fear Alison had been holding in check, cascaded through her, and a loud sob tore from her mouth. Annabel began to gently pet the frightened woman’s cheek. “Shhh, don’t worry. I forgot the nails.”

Alison felt a prickling heat building at the back of her neck. A moment later, the world tilted again and she lost consciousness.

***

A metallic taste coated Alison’s mouth as if she was chewing on a handful of pennies, and the ringing in her ears was making her feel dizzy, even though she was lying down. After several seconds of trying to focus her eyes, which felt heavy and loose in her head, Alison realized she was cloaked in absolute darkness.

Alison lifted her head, and a hard, wooden object ground into her forehead. Reaching to rub the offended spot, Alison found she couldn’t move her arms. To her horror, her body was pressed between the bottom and lid of a narrow wooden box.

I’ve been buried. A wave of nausea swept through her, and she swallowed hard. Her heart began racing in her chest as she took deep gulps of air. To her horror, in spite of the rapid breathing, she wasn’t getting enough air. The oxygen in the enclosed space was being depleted rapidly.

Slow it down, slow it down. Alison repeated the mantra in her head in an effort to bring her breathing under control. Sweat was gathering on her forehead, and the humidity in the small space was stifling.

Tears began to stream from Alison’s eyes as sobs of fear and panic tore through her. Thrashing about from side to side in a fruitless effort to free her hands, she only managed to scrape and cut herself.

“Help!” Alison choked on the thick air as she screamed. Her ears rang, and sharp stabs of pain shot through her head. “Help me!”

The only response was the hammering of her pulse in her ears, and the gasping sound of her labored breathing in the otherwise silent coffin.

I’m going to die. The realization that her life was going to end, and that she knew the when, the how and the what of it, brought Alison’s breathing to a full stop. As if a cooling spike had been plunged into her burning chest, the woman felt the stillness of the air around her, and the fear and panic being suffocated by it.

She wanted Bryce. She wanted her strength and comfort, the coolness of her touch. A muffled sob escaped Alison as her mind raced to her mother, and her family’s anguish as they would more than likely never know what became of her.

The stillness of the coffin began to seep into Alison. She felt a calmness blanket her as her heart began to slow and the space between her labored breaths became wider. Her muscles relaxed and she felt as if she were sinking into the porous wood of the box, unaware of the scratching sound coming from the earth above her.

“Alison!” Bryce ripped the coffin’s wood lid free of its metal hinges and threw it across the deserted field. Her hands and nails caked with dirt, she scooped the unconscious woman into her arms, and in a single leap, landed nearly ten feet from where Alison had been buried.

Gently laying the blonde to the ground, Bryce tilted her head back and began to carefully administer CPR. Tempering the chest compressions for fear she would crush Alison, Bryce listened for the woman’s heartbeat. The silence was deafening.

“Please breathe.” Forcing three breaths into Alison’s lungs, Bryce paused. A faint thumping sound was coming from Alison’s chest. “That’s it.” A moment later, a dry, wheezing cough broke the silence.

Bryce turned her on her side, and began rubbing her back. “It’s okay. Breathe slow.”

Alison’s entire body ached as she rolled onto her back. Her eyes burned and her lungs felt stiff and hot. Managing to focus, she saw the piercing green of Bryce’s eyes inches from her. Trying to speak, her throat felt like sandpaper. “Bryce.” The single syllable sent a stab of pain down her throat.

Bryce pulled Alison to her, blood-stained tears of relief streaming from her eyes. She had dispensed with the lycans, and had doubled back to witness the disposal of Rayven’s body and Alison being buried. Annabel had become enraged when the fifth lycan returned without Bryce. A second later the animal crumpled to the ground in a bloody heap of flesh and bone, another victim of the witch’s rage.

Leaning back, Bryce looked around the empty field cautiously, and then back at Alison, her face and neck covered in scratches and mud. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t get to you sooner, but I had to wait for them to leave.” Bryce gently stroked Alison’s cheek with her thumb. “Can you walk?”

Alison’s legs felt useless as she clung to Bryce. “You’ll have to carry me.”

Bryce nodded, and without a word picked Alison up. Cradling her gently in her arms, she began a brisk run across the uneven terrain of the field. Once beyond the tree line, the vampire stopped, and carefully put Alison down. “Better?” She watched Alison closely to make sure she was able to stand on her own.

“Yeah. Still a little woozy.” Alison looked around. A faint light was coming from the eastern sky, and she knew it must be nearing dawn. Rubbing her sore and swollen cheeks, Alison looked around. “Should we still try to get to my parents’ house?”

Bryce shook her head. “No. I don’t know if they were following us, or if they knew where we were going and intercepted us.”

“It happened so quickly, I don’t even know -” She looked down at her hands. Her nails were broken and dirt and blood clung to her skin.

Bryce took the shaken woman’s hands in hers. “A pack of lycan rammed the car, and the rest - well you know that part.”

“Poor Rayven.” Alison shuddered remembering the woman’s anguished cries. “I wasn’t a fan, but she didn’t deserve what happened to her.”

“It will be full on war now. Coleen is - was - Rayven’s maker. She won’t stand for such a brutal act against one of her offspring.” Bryce pulled Alison to her, taking comfort in the woman’s warmth. “We need to get back to Coleen’s and tell the group what’s happened. My phone was shattered in the wreck, and I can’t find yours.”

Alison buried her face in the side of Bryce’s neck. Considering her exertions over the past few hours, she was amazed the comforting scent of oranges and vanilla still emanated from the woman. In that moment, Alison found herself somewhere beyond her doubt and denial, at a place where the truth about her feelings for Bryce lay waiting for her.

“There’s something I need to tell you.” The professor leaned back, and looked intently at Bryce. The vampire’s brow furrowed as a look of concern crossed her face.

“Are you hurt?” Bryce ran her fingers through Alison’s hair, and along her shoulders, worried the woman was in pain.

“I love you.” Alison couldn’t stop from smiling. “I appreciate this is the worst timing ever, but you never know minute to minute what’s around the corner. So - ” Stepping back she looked nervously at the ground, and then back at Bryce. “So I needed you to know. I love you.”

Bryce didn’t know the moment she fell in love with Alison. She had spent so much time thinking about it that she hadn’t recognized it when it arrived. It had crept into her and now it consumed her. “I love you. You -” Bryce took Alison’s face gently in her hands, wiping an errant tear away with her thumb. “You let me be myself. You’ve never tried twisting me to fit your image of me, though I know I’ve not always been the best company.”

Alison laughed, and turned her lips to Bryce’s palm. Bryce pulled her into her arms. “I probably won’t be any good at being in love, but you know I’ll try my best.” She kissed the blonde’s cheek as she spoke.

“We’ll figure it out.” Alison clung to the woman in her arms, marveling that in spite of the horrors she had witnessed, and the violence inflicted on her, right now there was more kindness and love in the world than she could ever have imagined.

***

“She’s dead?” Coleen stood in the study of her house, her eyes blazing as Bryce conveyed the events of the past five hours to her.

“I’m sorry. It all happened very quickly. By the time I got back -” Bryce could see Coleen struggling to maintain her composure. Her eyes glowed and her incisors were protruding from under her upper lip.

Lewis stepped up first, and placed a reassuring hand on the woman’s shoulder. Coleen shrugged it off, and turned her back to the group.

“How many lycans were there?” Ash asked as she took Emma’s hand in hers, struggling not to put herself in Coleen’s place if something should happen to Emma.

“Five. I killed four, and Annabel killed the one that returned without me.” Bryce pinched her lower lip between her teeth, a thought skittering through her mind.

“What?” Ash asked.

“After she killed the lycan, her heartbeat slowed, and her blood wasn’t flowing as quickly through her body.” Bryce looked at Ash. “It was nearly a minute before it returned to normal.”

Emma interrupted. “That would make sense.” She looked at Ash. “It’s similar to what you experience if you shift too quickly or too many times in a short period. Your body burns through a lot of calories, i.e. energy. You’re weak for a bit until you recuperate.”

Ash released Emma’s hand and walked toward Coleen, whose back was still turned. “Have you heard of this? A Necromancer needing to - recharge?”

Coleen turned around, a blood-stained tear trickled down her cheek. “No.” She wiped at her face. “I want her and those other two bitches killed immediately, and as horrifically as possible.”

Lewis cleared his throat. “I know this is a loss, but we need to regroup here. It’s not just Annabel. Clearly the one named Christine is a threat.” He looked at Alison, who had been sitting on the sofa listening intently to the exchange, and wishing there were more she could do. “She was able to restrain Rayven?”

“Yes, but she made a comment that she wouldn’t be able to for very long.”

“Her power is like a muscle. It’s only so strong, and evidently we’re stronger.” Emma speculated.

The doorbell chimed, and Lewis excused himself. “That will be Rachel and Sara.”

“I think we should all stay here tonight. There is clearly safety in numbers.” Ash suggested.

“It doesn’t matter.” Coleen’s voice was layered with hate and rage. “They’ll be dead anyway.”

“That’s the end, Coleen, not the means.” Ash’s voice was stern. “You want to skip to the end with no clear idea how we’re to get there.”

Coleen turned and lunged at Ash, in a single second her hands were wrapped around the woman’s throat, her teeth bared. “Should I practice the means on you, shifter?”

Ash’s skin reddened as the tendons and muscles in her hands and arms began to expand and bulge. She clutched Coleen’s wrists, but her jaw stayed tightly locked as she refused to indulge Coleen in a physical or verbal battle.

Seeing Emma and Bryce move toward Coleen, Ash held her hand up. “Don’t.”

Emma spoke softly to the enraged vampire. “I know you loved her. I really do understand, but please try to feel the hurt and not the anger right now.” She reached up, and gently stroked the woman’s cheek. “I need your head clear if we’re going to get out of this alive.”

Ash felt the vise like grip around her neck loosen as Coleen leaned away from her. Just then, Lewis, Rachel and Sara entered the room.

“What’s this?” Lewis ask, clearly confused by the turn of events.

Emma looked over at the man, and managed a faint smile. “We were just problem solving.” She looked closely at Coleen, whose eyes had filled with blood tinged tears. “Right?”

Coleen released her grip on Ash, and stepped away, wrapping her arms around Emma, pulling her into a tight embrace. “I’m sorry.”

Emma had known Coleen her entire vampire life, and could count on one hand, with fingers to spare, the number of times the woman had apologized for anything. Knowing the significance of the moment, Emma held the woman to her. “It’s fine.”

Emma looked over Coleen’s shoulder toward Ash. “Are you okay?”

Rubbing her still red throat, Ash nodded. “Peachy.” Tilting her head back and forth, a series of pops sounded from the shifter’s neck before she spoke. “Well, now that that’s out of everyone’s system, we can talk about those means.”

“What’s happening?” Sara asked as she and Rachel sat down on the sofa.

Coleen stepped away from Emma. “Rayven’s been killed by Annabel and her coven.”

“Oh god. How?” Sara took Rachel’s hand in hers.

Bryce cleared her throat. “We were ambushed by lycan, and then Annabel turned Rayven into a human.” Looking at Alison, whose face was fraught with worry, the redhead continued. “Then a lycan turned on Ray, and it was - it was over very quickly.”

“This is getting out of hand.” Rachel stated the obvious. “How do we find these women and kill them?” The resolve in the woman’s voice was solid. Looking at Sara, her brow furrowed, she squeezed the woman’s hand. “I know you aren’t in love with the idea, but I - I just found you, and I’m not ready to lose you.”

Leaning in, Sara kissed Rachel softly on the lips. “I feel the same.” Addressing the group, the attorney spoke confidently. “Are they coming after us, regardless of our affiliation with Bryce?”

Bryce responded. “Yes. It’s bigger than any vendetta Annabel may have with me.”

Sara nodded. “It’s a question of self-defense then. So, what’s the plan?”

Coleen, who remained standing next to Emma with her arm wrapped around the woman’s waist, spoke, her voice calm and matter-of-fact. “It will be easier if we can isolate them. Address them one at a time instead of as a group.”

“I agree, but I can’t find Annabel anywhere in the systems, and the other two - Christine and Victoria - no better.” Ash shook her head. “Short of knowing where Annabel works...” She glanced at Alison. “All addresses are either post office boxes or street addresses that don’t exist.”

“I can help with that.” Alison nearly raised her hand as if asking to be called upon in class. “I have a friend in the university payroll department. Annabel isn’t working for free, and the group just underwent an extensive audit and passed; so whatever they have on file for her for tax purposes has to be accurate.”

Sara chuckled. “It’s how they got to Capone.” Multiple eyes turned toward the attorney. “Tax records. Uncle Sam always gets his, even if you are a three hundred year old witch.”

***

“Well, that was entirely too easy.” Ash sat next to Alison in her Jeep outside a non-descript apartment complex on the north side of the city. It was nearly ten at night, and the dimly lit parking lot adjacent to the apartment buildings was full.

“It helps that I’m nonthreatening.” Alison said casually.

“Still, she gave you Annabel’s address, phone, and I think if you had been so inclined, you would have got her social and mother’s maiden name.”

Alison smiled. “I had a very plausible explanation for requesting the information. I’ve been out sick, Annabel sent me flowers, and I wanted to mail her a thank you card. Plus, I’m friendly.”

“Kill’em with kindness.” Ash shook her head. “So to speak.”

“There.” Alison pointed toward the apartments. “That’s not Annabel - it’s Victoria.”

“It makes sense they would live near each other. Maybe even together.” Ash grabbed her phone, and dialed.

“Do you have her?” Coleen’s voice filled the car via the Jeep’s Bluetooth.

“No. We see Victoria though.” Ash responded. “She’s walking to her car.”

“Hey.” Bryce appeared next to Alison’s window.

“Holy shit!” Alison jumped, and then hit the power window button. “You scared the crap out of me.”

Bryce cringed. “Sorry.” She looked across the car at Ash. “I circled around the back of the building to the unit. There was only one heartbeat, and it -” She scanned the parking lot to see a short, heavy set woman with a pageboy hair cut getting in a late model, black Mazda 6 sedan. “Well, there it is.”

“Coleen, we’ll follow her. Maybe she’ll lead us to Annabel.” Ash suggested before disconnecting the call.

Bryce opened the back door of the Jeep and climbing in, leaned over the front seat to Alison. “You okay?”

Smiling, she took the woman’s hand. “Yeah, just don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Force of habit.” Bryce said, then frowning, shook her head. “I mean, not that I sneak up on people, but I was trying to be, you know quiet, and when I’m quiet - it’s really quiet - so -”

Alison gently laid her hand across the vampire’s mouth. “I get it.”

“Thank god, because much more of that rambling, and you were going to walk home.” Ash started the car, and keeping a respectable distance, followed Victoria out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

The embarrassed vampire sat back. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Follow her, see if she leads us to Annabel, or even Christine for that matter.” Ash intentionally let another car merge between them and Victoria.

The Mazda took a left turn into a neighborhood development that was still being leveled and the streets paved. “Where the hell is she going?” Ash muttered.

Coming to a cul-de-sac, the sedan stopped. “What’s that smell?” Bryce asked.

“Get out!” Ash yelled.

Before Alison could find the door handle, Bryce had ripped the passenger door off its hinges, grabbed her by the waist, and cleared the Jeep just as a massive wall of heat slammed into the back of Alison. Her ears were ringing as she turned her head to find Bryce hunched over her.

Thirty feet behind them was what was left of Ash’s Jeep. The vehicle was engulfed in flames, and a thick plume of black smoke billowed from it.

Alison was pulled to her feet, followed by a swirling sensation as Bryce swiftly moved her behind a small construction shed. “Stay here.” Bryce’s voice was low, verging on a growl.

The vampire turned as the witch spun her car around, with the squealing of tires and the roar of the taxed engine filling the night air. Scanning the carnage, Bryce saw Ash lying unconscious, but clear of the Jeep, and seemingly unharmed as her heartbeat and breathing were strong.

Pushing up and off the ground, Bryce propelled herself toward the Mazda. Landing squarely on the hood of the vehicle, the weight and force of her impact cracked the car’s front axle, and the nose of the vehicle dug into the pavement.

Victoria had been flung back into the seat by the force of the air bag inflating, and now slowly leaned forward, pushing the rapidly deflating bag down and clutching the steering wheel of the car. Her face, illuminated by the light of the burning Jeep, was distorted into a demonic sneer as she glared at Bryce.

An intense heat began building in Bryce’s chest, quickly running through her arms and out the tips of her fingers. The sensation was unfamiliar, but not painful as the vampire examined her hands to find the tips of her fingers resembled smoldering coals.

Teeth bared, Bryce lunged at the woman. Her fist easily shattered the windshield and she grabbed Victoria out by her hair. The vampire drug the plump woman across the hood of the car and onto the ground, then deposited her on her backside with a loud thud.

Feeling like weights had been added to her feet, Bryce looked down to see the rubber soles of her Skechers melting into the dirt. “Stop!” Bryce snarled at the woman. “You can’t kill me like this and you know it.”

Victoria didn’t speak, her eyes fixed on Bryce. The vampire blinked as a flash of light temporarily blinded her. Then the cotton v-neck t-shirt Bryce was wearing crackled as the fabric burned in a flash of intense heat.

Bryce stood in a black bra and jeans. Kicking her shoes off, she pleaded with the woman. “I don’t want to kill you. Please, stop.”

The woman’s expression softened and she blinked several times. “Stay away from me!” She began to crawl backward, away from Bryce.

“I just need to know where Annabel is. This feud has to end.” Bryce struggled to keep her voice low and calm.

Victoria managed to stand, her round cheeks streaked with dirt. The billowy, floral pattern dress she wore was torn and tattered from where Bryce had pulled her from the car. “Leave me alone!” The woman walked to the left, her hands out in front of her, her eyes darting back and forth between Bryce and a point over the vampire’s left shoulder.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Bryce tried to reassure the witch, who reminded her of a cornered, feral animal. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

The witch’s posture shifted, her back straightened and her shoulders stiffened. “You stupid bitch. I’m not afraid of you.” Looking past Bryce, the woman’s stare locked on the Mazda. The sound of metal being bent reached Bryce’s ears a split second before a wave of heat, speckled with shards of metal hit the vampire.

A cloud of smoke wrapped around Bryce as she slowly dusted debris from her shoulders and hair. Walking toward Victoria, Bryce twisted her neck to the right, causing a faint popping sound. A single, quick step later, and her cool hand was wrapped around Victoria’s throat, her incisors fully extended as her eyes glowed a vivid green in the darkness.

“Annabel. Where is she?” Bryce’s patience were wearing thin. “If you can’t - or won’t - be helpful, then I have no use for you.” She tightened her grip on Victoria’s throat.

Victoria smiled, tears streaming down her face. Closing her eyes, her body went limp, and a moment later she was engulfed in flames. Bryce dropped the woman to the ground, and began to roll her back and forth, trying, in vain, to smother the flames.

Alison appeared, fire extinguisher in hand, but even that proved useless as the witch was burning herself from the inside out. Within a minute, Victoria’s charred remains laid lifeless at Alison and Bryce’s feet.

Stunned, Bryce looked at Alison. “Where did you get that?”

Looking at the emptied extinguisher in her hand, Alison had to stop and think for a second before answering. “The - the construction shed. It was attached to the side.” She dropped the extinguisher. “Why would she do that?”

“Loyalty.” It was the simplest explanation.

A low moan came from behind the women. “Ash!” Alison began running toward her friend, who was staggering toward them.

“What happened?” Ash rubbed her temple.

Alison wrapped her arm around the detective’s shoulders. “Victoria killed herself.” She gently touched the woman’s cheek, a deep gash streaking across her otherwise flawless face. “Are you okay?”

Nodding, Ash stood up straight, the spinning inside her head fading. “Yeah.”

Alison watched in amazement as the gash, and several minor cuts began to disappear. “How - what?”

Ash shrugged. “Another perk of being a shifter.”

“Amazing.” Alison managed as Ash gave her a quick hug, and then looked at Bryce.

“Did she say anything?”

“No, and she never would have.” Bryce frowned.

“We need to get out of here. This isn’t a particularly remote location, and it’s just a matter of time before the cops arrive.” The detective insisted. She looked at what was left of her Jeep. “Man, I loved that car.” She pulled her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans. “I’ll report the car stolen, and let the chips fall as they may.”

Alison looked at the two women. “What about the - remains?” She didn’t want to look at Victoria’s charred skeleton, so she looked intently at Bryce.

“I’ll bury her. It won’t take long.” Bryce jogged toward the body. “Ash, you go. I’ll get Alison out of here.”

Ash nodded, and took Alison’s hand. “Are you okay? You’re not hurt?”

“I’m rattled, but otherwise okay.” She smiled, hoping to reassure her friend.

“I’ll see you back at Coleen’s.” The detective began undressing. “Can I trouble you to tote my clothes for me?” She turned to Alison, who was even more confused than a moment ago, though she hadn’t imagined that possible.

“Sure, but what are you doing?” Ash now stood in front of her naked. Her gun, jeans, undergarments, blouse and shoes stacked neatly on the ground at her feet. Her body was even more incredibly lean and muscular than Alison remembered, and she struggled not to stare.

“A woman sprinting through the streets of the city at breakneck speed might raise suspicions.” Ash winked at the blonde. “But a Labrador - not so much.”

Ash’s olive tone skin took on an intense red hue, and the scent of wet earth and burning leaves filled the air just as the nearly six foot tall woman disappeared and a large, yellow dog stood in her place.

Alison gasped and instinctively took a step back. She had seen a hint of her friend’s skills at Blue Box, but to witness a full on shift was incredible. Squatting in front of the dog, Alison hesitantly reached for the animal’s head. “Can I touch you?”

In response, the Labrador nudged Alison’s outstretched hand with her nose. The animal’s fur was thick and coarse, and Alison couldn’t believe how real it felt. Standing up, she shook her head in amazement.

The sound of approaching sirens pulled Alison out of her reverie. “Get going. We’ll see you soon.”

The dog barked, turned and broke into a sprint. Alison was in awe of how fast Ash was, and within seconds, the dog had disappeared into the darkness.

The sirens grew louder, and turning around, Alison saw Bryce returning from across the road, dirt caked under her nails as she dusted off her pants. “Ready?”

“For what, exactly?” Alison looked suspiciously at the woman as she gathered Ash’s clothes.

“A piggy back ride.” Bryce grinned.

“A -” Alison frowned. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. And soon. The cops are around the corner.” Bryce reached for Alison’s hand and then turned her back to the stunned blonde, crouched down, and looked back. “Hop up.”

Taking a tentative step forward, Alison was struck by the ludicrousness of the situation. She was standing in the middle of what resembled a war torn, third world country with burnt out cars and the stench of scorched flesh lingering in the air. To add to the strangeness, her half naked vampire girlfriend was about to gallop the two of them through the city at breakneck speed.

Wrapping her legs around Bryce’s waist, and her arms around the woman’s cool shoulders, Alison took a deep breath. “A warning.”

“A warning?” Bryce asked.

“I get motion sickness, so in case I forget to tell you later - sorry.”

Chapter 15

“What can I do?” Bryce stood behind a bent over Alison, gently rubbing the woman’s back as she retched into a hedge near the entrance to Coleen’s neighborhood.

Reaching back, and steadying herself by clutching Bryce’s thigh, Alison took several deep breaths. “It’s passing.” She was grateful for how sprawling and relatively remote Coleen’s development was. The houses sat on large lots, and traffic in and out of the area was minimal. She didn’t need an audience for this humiliation.

“Should we just walk the rest of the way?” Bryce placed a cool hand on the back of Alison’s neck.

Standing up, her hands on her waist, Alison took stock. She felt like the jarring and the jostling her body had taken over the last day was representational of the kinetic upheaval her personal life was in. She didn’t have it in her to continue the roller coaster like sensation running with Bryce caused.

“Great idea.” She took the woman’s hand, and they began the half mile walk towards Coleen’s house.

After nearly ten minutes of walking, Bryce broke the comfortable silence the two women had been in. “Wait.” The night was relatively cool, and Alison had - regardless of the why - been enjoying the stroll.

“What’s wrong?” She looked up the slight incline leading to Coleen’s driveway. There was nothing there, and the only sound was the faint rasping of distant cicada.

“Lycan.” Bryce pulled Alison toward the side of the street, and behind a low lying oak scrub.

“How’s that possible?” The memory of the lycan attack that killed Rayven raced through Alison’s mind, causing her mouth to go dry as she worked to stifle the panic.

“I don’t know, but I can smell them. A lot of them.” Just then, a rustling came from behind the two women, and Bryce spun around, placing herself between the possible onslaught and Alison, her teeth bared, her back rigid.

“Whoa there.” Ash’s whisper broke the tension. “It’s just me.”

Bryce relaxed as a naked Ash emerged from the darkness. “Sorry, I thought you might be -”

Ash nodded. “I know. I smell them too.”

Alison had managed to hang on to Ash’s clothes and gun during the tumultuous run, and handed them to the woman, amazed at how casual she seemed about her public nudity.

“Thanks, but I don’t think I’m done tonight.” Ash took the items, and laid them on the ground to her side. “I made a quick loop around the perimeter when I first got here and realized something was up.”

Ash, still crouched low to the ground, inched closer to Bryce and Alison. “I count at least seven lycan around the outside of the house, and from the stench, maybe more inside.”

Alison took Bryce’s hand, and squeezed it tightly. “How did they get in?”

Bryce wrapped her arm around Alison’s shoulder, and pulled the frightened woman to her. “If that many of them attacked at once, even five vampires could be over-run.”

Ash was struggling to keep her mind clear. The idea that Emma was being held, or worse, may already be dead, clouded the shifter’s head with a distracting mixture of rage and fear. “I’ll get inside the complex and see what’s happening.”

Grabbing Ash’s forearm, Alison felt a momentary surge of alarm. “What?! You can’t be serious.”

Ash covered Alison’s trembling hand with her own. “They won’t even notice me.”

Alison felt an almost uncomfortable heat coming from Ash’s arm, and a second later, her friend had been replaced with an oversized porcupine. “Jesus.” Pulling her hand back, Alison looked at Bryce. “I’ll never get used to that.”

Bryce managed a weak smile, and then looked down at the porcupine. “If you can, see how many are in the house too.”

With a slight waddle, the porcupine disappeared into the darkness, leaving Bryce and Alison crouching near the scrub.

Alison shivered, and Bryce pulled her closer. “You’re cold?”

“I’m scared shitless is what I am.” Alison didn’t see the point in pretending. She knew terrible things were about to happen. She didn’t want to be afraid, but her common sense told her that was a fool’s errand. Oddly, accepting the fear, regardless of the pounding of her heart telling her to run, gave her the courage to stay.

“Aren’t you afraid?” Alison’s eyes scanned the beautiful woman’s features. She seemed relaxed. The only sign of any inner turmoil was the faint glow of her eyes.

“Yes.”

Alison suddenly wanted to punch her girlfriend. “Pretend I didn’t ask a closed ended question.”

Bryce’s brow arched. “We don’t experience fear in the same way you do. When you’re scared, your heart races, adrenaline surges through your body, and - well, you’re afraid.” Turning her attention back to the house, she quickly scanned the area. “Quiet.”

Alison was experiencing firsthand the surge of adrenaline and a heart that felt like it was going to come out of her chest. Closing her eyes while trying to control her rapid breathing, the blonde listened closely, wanting to hear whatever had caught Bryce’s attention.

It was hopeless. All she could hear was the faint sound of highway traffic, and the cicadas humming in the distance. Bryce lowered herself from a crouching position to her knees, and Alison followed suit. Clearly it was a false alarm.

“You were saying?” Alison needed something to distract her, even if it was a conversation about the very thing that scared her.

“I am afraid.” Bryce whispered. The smoothness and intimacy of her voice wrapped around Alison like a warm blanket. “I’ve spent so much of my life angry, with nothing to lose and no one that mattered. I used that anger to destroy, but now -” The woman looked down, seeming unsure. “Now it’s different.”

Seeing Bryce was struggling, Alison took the woman’s hand in hers, and smiled. “How’s it different?”

Bryce was unable to make eye contact until Alison gently reached under her chin and raised the vampire’s gaze to hers. “I have hope now, but because of that I’m afraid.” She reached up and stroked the warmth of Alison’s still slightly swollen cheek. “I’m afraid to lose you. To lose who I am when I’m with you.”

Tears pushed at the corner of Alison’s eyes as Bryce continued. “In some ways the love is harder than the hopelessness and anger.” Words failing her, Alison pulled Bryce to her and kissed her. It wasn’t a kiss born of arousal, but rather, one born of commitment and love.

Their foreheads pressed together, Alison managed to speak. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Bryce hugged the blonde, happiness welling up within her. She didn’t know what the future held for them, or their friends, but she refused to be cheated out of a single second of the joy she had found with Alison.

***

“It’s been too long.” Alison didn’t have a watch or phone, but her internal clock told her Ash had been gone close to twenty minutes, and that had the blonde worried.

“She wasn’t moving very fast.” Bryce pointed out.

Remembering the waddling as Ash had disappeared toward the house, Alison knew Bryce was right, but the waiting was almost worse than what awaited them inside Coleen’s house. As if on cue, Ash appeared behind them, crouched low to the ground.

“It’s bad.” The woman’s voice was low, and laden with anxiety. “Seven lycan around the outside of the house, and at least four more inside the house.”

“What about Annabel and Christine?” Bryce asked.

“Presumably somewhere in the house, but I couldn’t get close enough to see.” Ash looked at Alison, and then down at the Glock 17 laying on top of Ash’s clothes. “Here.” The detective picked the gun up, and handed it to a shocked Alison.

“What can I do with this?” In spite of living most of her life in Texas, Alison had only shot a gun once. “This didn’t go well the first time, Ash.”

The detective winced, remembering her and Alison’s one trip to a gun range north of Austin. They had been dating for a little over six months, and both women thought sharing each other’s hobbies would be a good bonding experience. Alison had ended up with a sprained wrist when the .38 revolver’s recoil had caught her off-guard.

“You don’t have to be an expert marksman, and no - it won’t kill a lycan - but if you empty it into one’s head, it will definitely slow it down.”

Bryce shook her head. “No way. She’s not going anywhere near the house.”

Ash nodded. “I agree, but we can’t leave her here unattended, with no way to defend herself.”

“I’m coming with you.” Alison was as surprised as the two women when the words came out of her mouth.

“It’s too dangerous.” Bryce put her hand on Alison’s shoulder.

“Why? Because I might be killed?” She looked back and forth between the vampire and shifter. “I’ve got news for you, you might be killed too.” Lifting the gun up, and examining it more closely, she then locked her gaze on Bryce. “You don’t get to take all the risks.”

Ash and Bryce looked at each other, and after several awkward moments, it was Bryce who spoke first. “Okay.”

Alison smiled, relieved that she didn’t have to not only put her life in danger but defend the decision as well.

“Wait, I’m not okay with this.” Ash whispered harshly at Bryce. “And frankly, you shouldn’t be either.”

Bryce squared her shoulders. “She can make her own decisions.”

“Please, she has no training, and she’s - well, human.” Ash glanced quickly at Alison and then back at an irritated Bryce.

“If she wants -”

Alison waved her hand in between Ash and Bryce. “News flash - I’m right here. You can have this conversation with me.”

The two women turned their heads slowly toward Alison.

Bryce looked down at the ground, and then hesitantly at Alison. “Sorry, that was rude.”

Alison put her hand on the vampire’s shoulder. “It was, so let’s not do that again.”

Bryce nodded, but Ash wasn’t as easily convinced. “Y’all making up doesn’t solve anything. Ali, I can’t -”

Alison’s patience with the conversation was waning, and she struggled to not sound irritated, and frankly hurt. “Do you remember what you said to me, that day you told me about being a shifter?”

“Vaguely.” Ash averted her eyes.

Alison smiled, knowing full well Ash remembered. “I told you I wasn’t built for this, and you said - no one is.”

“What’s your point?”

Alison exhaled, exasperated with her friend. “You are so stubborn.” Taking a deep breath, she willed the knot of tension between her shoulder blades away. “My point is, I won’t do nothing, and regret it the rest of my life.” She struggled to keep her voice even, and at a whisper. “I don’t want to lose myself in what might have been.”

Alison found a reassuring power in the potential sacrifice and her willingness and ability to make it. She was angry with the situation, and for the people who had suffered and died, and the anger gave her a strength she might not otherwise have.

“She’s right. It’s her choice, her burden.” Bryce interjected, and Alison loved her for saying it.

“And ours if she’s killed.” Ash was agitated, and her voice strained as she glared at Bryce.

“Stop! It’s settled.” Alison warned. “We’ve wasted enough time. What’s the plan?”

***

“You can’t be serious.” Bryce’s eyes glowed an eerie iridescent green in the darkness.

“It’s a legitimate question.” Ash stood, hands on her bare hips, looking intently at the vampire.

Bryce looked cautiously at Alison and then at the shifter.  “A week, maybe more.”

Ash shook her head. “That’s no good.” She looked toward the house. “There are at least eleven lycan in there. You’re our best shot.” Her brow furrowed and she  looked down. “I can only do so much. They’re stronger than I am.”

Seeing Ash’s apprehension, and the obvious tension between her and Bryce, Alison cleared her throat. “What do you suggest?” She intentionally softened her tone, though anxiety coursed through her, threatening to suffocate her.

Chewing nervously on her lower lip, Ash looked at Bryce. “You need to feed, and -”

Bryce’s eyes widened. “No. Absolutely not.”

“What are you two talking about?” Alison interjected.

Bryce glared at Ash, and then, softening her expression, looked at Alison. “She wants me to feed on her.”

“I don’t want you to for Christ’s sake, but considering what we’re facing in there, you need to be at your best.” Ash’s irritation was evident, her voice tight and strained.

“Forget it.” Bryce shook her head.

Alison put her hand on the redhead’s shoulder. “Is she right?”

Turning her back so she stood between Alison and Ash, Bryce took the blonde’s hand in hers. “It’ll be fine.”

“Don’t bullshit her.” Ash interrupted.

Something akin to a growl escaped Bryce, but she refused to face the shifter. “I’m not.”

Alison could see from the stiffness in the vampire’s shoulders, and the length of her incisors, she wasn’t being honest. Looking past Bryce to Ash, Alison smiled. “Ash, can you give us a minute please?”

Reluctantly the woman walked several yards away, leaving Alison looking closely at Bryce. “What’s this about?” She entwined her fingers with the vampire’s long tapered ones.

Bryce shrugged. “I - I just won’t.”

“Is Ash right? Would it make things easier?”

Not looking up, the redhead shrugged. “Maybe.”

Alison placed her finger under the woman’s chin, and slowly tilted her head up. “It will, right?”

After several seconds Bryce nodded. “I haven’t fed on anyone besides you in a decade, and I’m not sure - especially a shifter, if I can stop.”

Pulling the woman to her, Alison spoke quietly, her lips pressed to Bryce’s ear. “You will, because you have to, and you’re strong enough.”

Burying her face in the side of Alison’s neck, Bryce took a rare breath and marveled at how incredible Alison smelled. The scent of lavender mixed with sweat, along with the heat that radiated off her body elicited a low moan from Bryce.

Taking an abrupt step back, the vampire nodded. “Fine. Let’s get it over with, before I think better of it.”

“Right.” Alison walked toward Ash, who had her back to the pair. “She’s ready.”

Ash turned, the incredible definition and curves of her naked body still taking Alison’s breath away. “Well, that’s something.” Walking past Alison, Ash stood in front of Bryce, and took several deep breaths. “I have no way of stopping you if - if you can’t stop yourself.”

Bryce nodded. “I understand. It won’t come to that.”

Lifting her arm, the shifter looked at her wrist. “Take it from the arm.” The intimacy of having Bryce bite her neck was more than Ash could bear. She knew this was the only way to ensure they at least had a fighting chance, but it still turned her stomach.

Bryce and Alison’s eyes locked, Without a word, and to Bryce’s relief, the blonde turned her back. Taking Ash’s hand, Bryce was surprised by how warm the woman was. She was at least five degrees hotter than a human, and looking at the pulsating vein in her wrist, the woman’s rapid heartbeat became a low, enticing hum in the Bryce’s ears.

Bryce hesitantly opened her mouth, her incisors fully extended. The anticipation of blood triggered a burning in her throat and stomach, thirst and craving running through her as she fought not to drown in it. Sinking her teeth into Ash’s forearm, a gush of hot, minerally blood tasting of licorice, salt and earth poured into her mouth and down her throat.

Unlike human blood, the shifter’s sent an immediate surge of energy and strength through the vampire. Her nerve endings stood on end, and she felt waves of euphoria pulse through her repeatedly. Her head spun, she caught herself just before she plunged over the edge, and pulled her mouth away.

Wiping her lips, Bryce turned her back to Ash, and tensed when she felt Alison’s warm hand on her shoulder. The nearness triggered too many sensations of need and want for the vampire to manage. “Please, give me a minute.” She stepped away, and focused her mind on the task ahead of them.

The two puncture wounds were already healing, leaving two small welts on Ash’s arm as she gently rubbed the area. “We need to move.”

Bryce was in awe of how strong she felt, and knew regardless of her apprehensions, Ash had been right. “I’ll go in first. Because of their numbers, and the fact we need to move quickly, I’ll weaken them. You’ll need to follow behind and – clean up.”

Alison was torn between being horrified at what was about to happen and exhilarated from the raw surge of adrenaline. The three had already determined she would stay behind while the exterior of the house was cleared, and then she would enter the house with Ash and Bryce. A gun was clearly of more use against just two witches and a handful of lycan.

“It seems odd saying this to you, but be safe.” Alison hugged Bryce, and the two women held each other for several seconds before Alison reluctantly released the redhead.

“I love you.” Bryce leaned in and kissed Alison, committing to memory the warmth and softness of her lips.

A surge of affection and tenderness welled up in Alison, and she wiped at an unexpected tear as it cascaded down her cheek. “Love you.”

Turning toward Ash, Alison cleared her throat. “You won’t get killed, right?”

Ash grinned. “Wouldn’t think of it.” The two women smiled at each other, their years together lending themselves to an unspoken understanding of how important each was to the other.

The shifter took a step back, and in a matter of seconds, the tall, elegant woman disappeared, replaced with a lycan. Ash stood tall on two hind legs, elongated with oversized paws and stretched black claws. Her arms were disproportionally long in comparison to her torso, and her head resembled a large wolf’s head. Her entire body was covered in coarse black hair.

“If you can’t beat them, join them.” Bryce mused before taking a deep breath in through her nose. The smell of lycan blanketed her as she leapt over the ten foot stone wall that surrounded Coleen’s house.

Bryce could hear the low, rapid murmur of lycan heartbeats from both her left and right. All apprehension and doubt vanished, the anticipation of the hunt that awaited her left her feeling exhilarated. The vampire crouched, surveying the perimeter of the yard. The xeriscape landscaping provided very little in the way of cover, so Bryce quickly lunged toward the side of the house, staying close to the ground.

She launched herself up, and landed on the tile roof without making a sound. Sprinting along the rooftop, Bryce hurled herself through the air, and landed squarely on the back of a large male lycan. The impact was jarring as the animal’s massive frame absorbed most of the shock.

Balling up her fist, the redhead punched the base of the lycan’s head near where the skull and neck met. The animal’s skull shattered as Bryce ripped the top two vertebrae of its spine out. A moment later, the lycan crumbled to the ground, its arms and legs spasming.

Three lycans rounded the corner of the house, and charged Bryce. The last lycan in the barrage was tackled by Ash, who leapt from the top of the wall, planting her hind legs squarely in the animal’s chest. Pinning the animal to the ground, she tore and ripped at the lycan’s throat. A series of loud cracking sounds came from the dying animal.

Bryce managed to square her shoulders, and braced herself a split second before the remaining two lycan slammed into her. The putrid smell of rotting meat mixed with animal musk soured the vampire’s stomach as the larger of the two lycan bit and snapped at her neck.

Her skin and bone were unyielding, which gave Bryce the opportunity to strike the animal across the face, knocking the lycan to the ground. Ash pounced on the stunned animal, and pulling her long, tapered claw back, punched through the lycan’s back. She then crushed the animal’s hammering heart in her hand before extricating the organ from the lycan and throwing it to the side.

What felt like a sledgehammer slammed into the back of Ash’s head, followed by a stabbing pain in her right shoulder. She was face down on the ground as another lycan bit into her. A loud growl escaped the shifter as she struggled to regain her footing, the weight of the animal bearing down on her. Unable to turn over, Ash tried to push herself up onto all fours. The lycan’s jaws were clamped down, its jagged teeth buried deep in her shoulder.

A high pitch yelp echoed through the night, and the lycan was suddenly off Ash’s back. Looking up, she saw Bryce had snapped the neck of one lycan, and was now severing the head of the lycan that had attacked Ash. Trying to push herself up, Ash fell back to the ground. Rolling over on her back, she realized the tendons in her right shoulder were severed, temporarily rendering her arm useless.

Confident the wound would heal, Ash managed to get to her feet, the injured arm hanging limp at her side. Bryce was crouched low to the ground, her head tilted up as she took deep breaths in through her nose. A spider web of blue veins spread across her jaw and neck, her eyes glowing green as she scanned the yard.

In a single, swift leap, Bryce flew over Ash and tackled two lycans that had been charging the shifter from behind. One lycan clamped its powerful jaws around Bryce’s forearm while Bryce held the other one by the throat.

Thrashing its head back and forth furiously, the animal attempted to rip Bryce’s arm off. The vampire flung herself toward the stone wall, and repeatedly slammed the animal against it. The fourth blow finally dislodged the lycan.  Shards of masonry and rock showering the lycan as it slid down the wall, landing with a loud thud on the ground.

Free, Bryce quickly wrapped both hands around the remaining lycan’s throat and slammed it to the ground. Straddling the stunned animal’s chest, she plunged her thumbs into either of the lycan’s eyes, and plucked them free of their sockets. Shrill shrieks filled the night as the disorientated animal flailed about under Bryce. Not wasting a second, the vampire snapped the lycan’s neck, and then ripped its head free of the body.

The last lycan still lay stunned on the ground, its head propped up on the wall. Bryce grabbed the animal’s ankle, and pulled it along the ground for several feet before snapping the bone. Down on all fours, the vampire slowly crawled up the length of the large wolf. Perched on the animal’s stomach, she cocked her head to the right, the lycan’s rapid heartbeat pounding in her head.

She remembered a time when she would have savored this moment. The vanquishing of a foe had always been a convenient excuse to prolong the enemy’s suffering, and ensure her own enjoyment in the process.

Now, looking at the helpless animal under her, Bryce did feel the twinges of sadism in her gut. Stronger though, was the overpowering feeling of compassion. She would kill this lycan, but quickly and without fanfare. She would show what kindness she could, and choose a better future for herself in the process.

Chapter 16

“Why’s it so quiet?” Alison knelt between Bryce and Ash. The three women were crouched in the shadows ten yards from the back of Coleen’s house.

“They won’t come out at this point.” Ash cringed as she spoke. The flesh and soft tissue wound the lycan had inflicted was healed, but the shoulder itself had been dislocated, leaving her to force the appendage back into place. Clamping her jaw shut, she stifled a scream as a sharp stab of pain shot across her chest and back.

Alison instinctively reached for the woman, and rubbed her back. Ash was naked and covered in dirt, sweat and blood. She was a horrific sight, and Alison wished there was something she could do for her friend.

“We’ve lost the element of surprise; so we may as well walk right in.” Bryce’s suggestion sounded ridiculous, but considering the inevitable noise her and Ash’s altercations with the lycans had caused, Alison knew she was right.

“Okay.” Ash took several breaths through clenched teeth, still obviously in pain. “But let me get my clothes first. I do actually have some modesty.” The shifter sprinted toward the stone wall, and in a series of lunges, was up and over it.

Alison studied Bryce’s profile. “Are you okay?” The woman had been relatively quiet since the three had regrouped.

“I’m good.” The redhead continued to study the exterior of the house. Without looking at Alison, she continued. “That’s a lie.”

Alison’s brow arched. “You’re hurt?”

Shaking her head, Bryce turned toward Alison. “No. I just want this over with.”

Smiling, Alison took Bryce’s cool hand in hers. “Me too.”

“You don’t understand.” The redhead squeezed Alison’s hand. “I want to get on with our lives together.” Looking down at the ground, Bryce absently drew a circle in the dirt as she spoke. “I’ve been wrapped up in this sort of thing most of my life, and I just want to be normal with you.”

Alison had never thought much of normal, but she understood what Bryce was saying. The tumultuousness of the past few weeks had left her feeling tired, uncertain and vulnerable. She struggled not to give into the hate and anger that stirred in her.

Cupping Bryce’s cheek with her hand, Alison looked past the dried blood around her mouth, and the caked on dirt that covered her face, neck and clothes. “Let’s get our friends, and then go home.”

A broad smile spread across Bryce’s lips. “Can I take a shower first?”

Alison stifled a laugh. “I wasn’t going to say it.”

“What’s so funny?” Ash appeared behind them, dressed in jeans and a gray cotton button-up blouse, her feet still bare.

“Just a little levity.” Alison winked at Bryce.

Bryce’s posture changed, and she resumed her assessment of the house. Alison knew she wasn’t comfortable being vulnerable in front of Ash. Though she hoped someday Bryce would realize there was no shame in that, for the moment, Alison felt an odd intimacy with her lover since she chose to be that way with Alison alone.

“Shall we?” Ash extended her hand to Alison, who took it, and pulled herself up. “Ali, you stay behind us, and try to keep the gun out of sight.” Alison nodded, and fell in behind Ash and Bryce as they walked toward the house.

“Christine and Annabel are in the library. There’s a lycan in the vestibule, and three in the hallway outside the library.” Bryce listened intently to the myriad of heartbeats.

“And Colonel Mustard did it in the study, with a candlestick.” Ash joked.

Alison covered her mouth to avoid laughing out loud, amazed, given the circumstances, she had any sense of humor left. “What are you afraid of, a fate worse than death?”

“No, just death, isn’t that enough?” Bryce chimed in, causing both Alison and Ash to stop and stare at her. “I told you, I’ve been watching movies lately.”

Alison grinned, a look of admiration on her face. “Nice.”

Bryce nodded as the three found themselves at the large French doors leading into the back of the house. Opening the door, she was struck by the relative silence of the house. With the exception of the varying heartbeats, a deafening silence filled the space. In that moment she knew it was a very real possibility the other vampires had already been killed.

“What are you waiting for?” Alison whispered.

Bryce looked at Ash. The worried expression on the shifter’s face told Bryce the woman had the same concerns she did about the fate of their friends. “Nothing. Stay behind us.”

Ash and Bryce crossed the threshold first, with Alison immediately behind them. Her heart was racing, and sweat trickled down her back as she struggled to manage her fear. Clutching the Glock tightly in her right hand, she trembled as the three women made their way through the hall leading into the kitchen.

A clattering of claws on the terracotta ceramic tile that ran throughout the kitchen alerted Alison to the rapid approach of one of the four remaining lycan. Bryce squared her shoulders and a deep guttural growl emanated from her as she sprung forward, intercepting the large animal before it could launch at the group.

Grabbing the beast by the neck, Bryce bit into the front of the animal’s throat. A loud whimper came from the animal as the vampire ripped a bloody chunk of flesh and hair from the lycan.

Using the wall as leverage, the animal thrust itself forward, slamming Bryce into the opposite wall, pieces of drywall and plaster showering the two. The front of the lycan was a mass of matted, blood-soaked hair as the gaping wound in its throat began to heal.

Not wasting any time, Bryce reached into the still open gash and grabbed the animal’s trachea. With a single, powerful pull, she ripped what was left of the lycan’s throat free, and discarded the mangled flesh on the floor.

A loud thud filled the space as the heft of the lycan hit the tile. A gurgling sound came from its chest as it took its last breath. Reaching for a brown hand towel that hung near the kitchen sink, Bryce wiped the excess blood from her hands and face as she turned to face Ash and Alison.

The shifter stood rigid, her body in front of Alison who was pressed against the glass panes of the French door, her eyes wide with fear. Bryce loathed that the blonde was not only witnessing this carnage, but that she was the instrument of it.

“Let’s keep moving.” Bryce instructed the other two women. She would have time later to reassure Alison this was not an aspect of her personality she was interested in rekindling.

Ash moved first, with Alison following closely behind. As she followed Ash and Bryce through the massive house, Alison detected the faint smell of sulfur and burnt wood. Crossing the vestibule at the front of the house, she heard a faint gasp come from Ash.

“Don’t. It’s a trap.” Bryce had her hand on the shifter’s shoulder, as both women looked toward the sitting area adjacent to the entryway.

Following their gazes, Alison stifled her own gasp at what she saw. Hanging from one of the exposed pine beams that lined the room’s ceiling was Lewis. A barbwire noose was wrapped around his neck, suspending him nearly five feet off the floor. His arms and ankles were also bound with the wire, and given the metal’s luster, Alison knew it must be silver.

The barbs pierced Lewis’ pale skin. Thin streams of blood ran down his neck, causing the navy blue cotton shirt he wore to cling to his shoulders and chest. His head was hanging, obscuring his face. He was motionless.

“I’m not leaving him.” Ash hissed.

“Of course not, but it’s too obvious.” Bryce scanned the room, and pointed to the floor near Lewis. “They want us in that room.” Clearly there had been a struggle. Tables and chairs were turned over, and rugs shredded.

Alison squinted, and looking past the upheaval, was amazed to see an intricate pattern of crisscrossing silver threads. The thinness of the strands, and the fact her attention had been focused on Lewis, had rendered the snare nearly invisible.

Ash jerked away from Bryce as she took a step toward Lewis. “They clearly want you in the room. I have no issue ripping through that.”

The detective took several quick steps into the room, and was immediately flung through the air, her body slamming against the stone lined wall near a large fireplace. Once on the ground, the dazed woman was repeatedly smashed against the hardwood floor, the sound of cracking bones echoing through the space.

The attack happened so quickly, Alison barely registered the faint laughter coming from the corner of the room, but when she did, it was immediately clear to her that Christine was the source of the attack. Seeing Bryce’s hesitancy to intervene given her vulnerability to the silver lined floor, Alison stepped into the room, and focusing her attention on the laughter, saw Christine standing in a doorway at the far side of the room.

Leveling the gun she still clutched in her right hand, Alison took a steadying breath, and pulled the trigger. The gun fired, sending a jolt up Alison’s arm, and the blast triggered an instant ringing in her ears. Surprised she had held the weapon still long enough to fire it, Alison’s surprise turned to shock when she saw the witch clutching at her left shoulder, blood oozing from between her fingers. She had meant to distract the woman, and hadn’t considered the possibility she might actually hit her.

“You bitch!” A vicious sneer spread across the dark haired woman’s face as she disappeared through the door, and down the darkened hallway beyond.

A cool hand wrapped around Alison’s trembling arm. “It’s okay.” Bryce’s voice was calm as she carefully lowered Alison’s arm.

Tears streamed down the blonde’s cheeks, as her body began to shake uncontrollably. Bryce’s strong arms wrapped around her, and Alison forced herself to take deep breaths, finding solace in the scent and feel of Bryce.

Leaning back, Alison wiped at her face. “Ash. I need to see if she’s okay.”

Bryce nodded, and dropped her arms from around the still trembling woman. “I - I have to wait here.”

Without a word, Alison rushed over to Ash who was trying to get to her knees. The sharp angle of her left femur bone made it obvious her leg had been fractured.

Kneeling next to the shifter, Alison laid the gun on the floor. “Wait. You can’t - I mean it’s broken.” She squelched the urge to rub the injured leg, wishing she could comfort her friend with more than words.

Clenching her teeth, Ash slid back against the wall. “Just give me a minute.” Straightening her leg flat on the floor, she cried out as she pushed down with both her hands onto her thigh. A loud snap, and the leg was lying flat.

“It will heal in a minute, now that the bone is set correctly.” Tears of pain rolled down Ash’s flushed cheeks, a thin film of sweat covering her forehead.

“What can I do?” Alison asked, absently rubbing the other woman’s arm.

Managing a weak smile, Ash looked toward the now empty doorway. “You’ve done enough.” Reaching for Alison so she could help her to her feet, Ash shook her head. “You’ve taken lessons.”

Wrapping the woman’s arm around her shoulder, Alison pulled Ash to her feet. “Hardly. Evidently seeing a dear friend being flung about by a maniac makes me some sort of sharpshooter.”

Putting her full weight on her leg for the first time, Ash chuckled. “Don’t get too carried away, it was just a shoulder shot.”

Alison scoffed. “Thanks.”

Ash smiled, and hugged Alison. Turning toward Lewis, the detective frowned. “We need to get him down.” Ash looked at Bryce, who stood cautiously in the doorway. “What’s the count?”

“Three lycan, and the two witches.” Bryce turned her head slightly. “Christine is clearly in distress. Her heart is like a snare drum right now.”

Nodding, Ash ripped through the thin silver cords as she pulled a leather club chair toward Lewis. Stepping up so her feet were on either of the chair’s broad arms, Ash wrapped her arm around the vampire’s waste and removed the barbed noose from around his neck.

With Alison’s help, Ash lowered the man to the floor, and then hopped down from the chair. “Stay back.” She gestured to Alison. “He’s lost blood, and I don’t know if -”

“I’m not unhinged, detective.” Lewis’s voice was hoarse and barely above a whisper. “I haven’t lost that much.”

Untying Lewis’ hands and feet, Ash took the vampire’s hand, and pulled him to his feet. “If it’s all the same, I’ll hedge my bets.” She nodded for Alison to go stand near Bryce.

Rubbing his throat, the punctures from the wire already gone, Lewis twisted his head to the right, and then back to the left.  A series of clicks sounded. “Fair enough.”

“What happened?” Bryce asked.

“Happening.” Lewis and Ash walked toward Bryce and Alison. “They are clearly still in the house.”

“Annabel?” Bryce frowned.

“Yes. Along with Christine and a legion of lycan.” Taking a deep breath in through his nose, the vampire grinned. “Though clearly you three have made short work of most of them.”

“We got lucky.” Ash interjected. “Where’s Emma?”

“I assume with the others. It was very chaotic as the lycan swarmed the house. We were pulled in different directions.” Lewis closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. “Evidently the order of the day was to divide and conquer.”

“They’re in the garden.” Bryce interrupted.

“Then let’s go.” Ash walked over, and picked Alison’s discarded gun up, and handed it to the woman. “You have five shots left.”

Alison felt a knot forming in the pit of her stomach. She knew hitting Christine had been nothing more than dumb luck. Then remembering something her grandfather used to say, she resolutely took the gun from Ash – like her grandfather, she would rather be lucky than good any day.

***

The garden was dark. The myriad of shrubs, hedges and statues were shrouded in shadow. Alison struggled to focus her eyes as they left the lights of the house behind.

Bryce led the way, then Ash, followed by Alison. Lewis was the last in line to ensure they weren’t surprised from behind. An otherwise eerie silence was broken by the sound of running water which Alison determined was coming from a large fountain near the center of the garden.

“Everyone’s here.” Annabel’s voice filled the space. “The elements of shock and awe have passed.” The long-haired woman appeared from behind the fountain, flanked by two lycans. Her brow arched when she saw Lewis. “An escapee?” She turned her head as Christine stepped out of the shadows. “Clearly, good help is hard to come by.”

Christine clutched her shoulder, her hand and sleeve covered in blood. “I was shot!”

Annabel turned her attention back to the quartet. “I hate excuses.”

Something caught Alison’s attention as her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the garden. The base of the fountain was overflowing, and water was splashing over the sides of the structure. It was then that Alison saw the silver chain mail-like net cast over the pool of water. Underneath it were the outlines of four bodies. Jesus, she’s trapped them under the water.

Her attention on the fountain, Alison was only partially aware that Bryce was speaking. “It’s just between you and me, Annabel.”

The witch laughed. “You would think that. Your kind always thinks more of yourselves than you should.” Walking around the fountain, the woman stood with her hands on her hips. “There ceased to be a you and I ages ago.” Gesturing around the garden with her hand, she continued. “This hate runs deeper and is so much more exquisite. Its roots are firmly entrenched in centuries of abuse your kind wreaked on me, and the thousands of witches massacred by hordes of power hungry vampires.”

Rubbing her hands together, Annabel glared at Bryce. “So you’re a bonus, but first - the main event.”

In the blink of an eye, the two lycans lunged; one hit Bryce and the second landing squarely on Lewis. The smell of burning leaves filled Alison’s nostrils as she saw Ash take on a bright red glow, her face distorted in a grimace. A moment later, Christine’s cackle came from the shadows as Ash was lifted off the ground and spun upside down.

“We can’t have any of that, shifter.” The witch turned her head, and Ash was hurled through the air. “See how well you can fly if you can’t change into a little birdy.” No sooner had the words left the woman’s mouth, than Ash was being propelled up and over the ten foot wall of the garden, and into the darkness of the South Texas night.

All of this was happening around Alison in high speed, and her mind and eyes struggling to keep up. It was Lewis’ cries that snapped her brain back into focus. The man was flat on his back, and in his weakened state from the blood loss, was being mauled by the brown haired lycan on top of him.

Without consideration of the danger, Alison closed the short distance between her and Lewis. Steading the gun, and aiming at the back of the animal’s oversized head, the blonde pulled the trigger repeatedly, only stopping as the rapid clicking of the gun’s hammer against empty rounds broke through her adrenaline fueled focus.

The lycan jerked several times, and fell forward, allowing Lewis the opportunity he needed to regain his footing, and begin shredding the animal’s throat and head with his teeth and hands. Alison turned to see Bryce pummeling the final lycan repeatedly across the head and chest, just as a tight, tickling sensation began spreading from Alison’s back around her torso.

Losing traction, Alison was slammed to the ground, and felt a heavy weight blanket her body as she was pulled across the garden toward the fountain. All sound and air stopped as her head was forcibly plunged into the three foot deep pool of water. Forcing back the instinct to breathe, something that would effectively drown her by taking in a lungful of water, Alison clung to the last breath she had taken before being submerged.

Forcing her eyes open, Alison could see the edge of the silver chain mail net. Not sure if it was anchored to the fountain or held down by its own weight, Alison grabbed the net and pulled as hard as she could. To her relief the heavy material gave way and partially slid back. Before she could pull any more of the net back, she was once again being drug across the garden.

Hanging three feet above the ground, Alison found herself stretched out as if she were about to be drawn and quartered. Her chest, arms and legs throbbed as Christine tightened her grip. Annabel stood in front her, pure hatred twisting her features. Sneering, she laid her hand over Alison’s chest, the sound of her heart deafening as it pounded in her ears.

Then the pressure stopped, Lewis stood between Annabel and Alison, his hands inches from the witch’s throat. Collapsing to the ground, Alison felt sick to her stomach as her head spun, the sound of Christine shouting sounding miles away.

Then Lewis was lying on the ground, his skin no longer pale, but now pinkish, his eyes blue but without the iridescent glow. Turning his head, his gaze met Alison’s, a faint smile spreading across his still perfect mouth just as his neck was snapped. The sound of his neck breaking suddenly filled the garden.

Alison was shoved backwards as Bryce pounced on Annabel, but instead of thrashing the woman, Bryce seemed to freeze inches above the witch. Annabel thrust her hand upward and Bryce began to shake violently before collapsing to the ground.

Instinctively moving toward Bryce, Alison reached for her lover, who lay motionless. Annabel scrambled to her feet, but before she could exact her revenge, Emma was upon her. Dripping wet, teeth bared, eyes glowing an intense blue, the vampire pulled the witch away from Bryce and Alison.

A split second later and Rachel was on top of Christine in a flurry of flying fists and fangs, ripping the witch apart before she could come to Annabel’s aid.

Emma’s arms were wrapped around Annabel’s torso as she held her several inches off the ground. Making eye contact with Rachel, the doctor nodded, and Rachel leaped toward the two, sinking her teeth into the front of the witch’s throat. The woman’s cries became strangled as the vampire thrashed back and forth, finally severing Annabel’s head.

Alison sat next to Bryce’s still body. The quiet of the night was once again returning to the garden. Looking up, her vision blurred by tears, she was vaguely aware Ash had returned, and was removing the remainder of the silver chain mail from the fountain, releasing Sara and Coleen.

“Bryce.” Alison rolled the lifeless woman onto her back. Putting her hand to Bryce’s cheek, Alison quickly pulled it back.

“What is it?” Emma was kneeling beside her.

Looking at her hand and then back at Bryce, Alison shook her head. “She’s - she’s warm.”

Emma tilted her head to the side as if listening at a closed door. Immediately, a slow, steady murmur filled her ears, and she gasped. “Coleen!” Looking over her shoulder, she scanned the garden for her friend. “Get over here.”

Seemingly out of nowhere, a wet Coleen stood behind Emma. “What is-” The woman’s eyes widened and she dropped to the ground, frantically running her hand along Bryce’s arms and across her chest. “She’s -”

Alison didn’t understand what was happening, but she did know Bryce remained unconscious and clearly needed help. “Help her.”

Emma looked up. “She’s human.”

Alison sank down. “What?”

“Annabel.” Emma’s voice was soft, and laden with the shock all three women were feeling.

Ash, Rachel and Sara now gathered around. Looking at the shocked expression on Emma’s face, Ash’s brow furrowed. “What’s wrong? Is Bryce okay?”

Rachel and Sara both looked at each other, Sara speaking first. “She has a heartbeat.”

Emma stood up. “Annabel had power over death and life. She would turn a vampire before killing them. It was easier that way, but she didn’t finish with Bryce.” Blood stained tears streamed down Emma’s face as she looked at Lewis’ lifeless body. “She was weak after Lewis, and couldn’t finish Bryce off.”

“Let’s turn her back.” Coleen reached for Bryce’s arm.

“Wait!” Rachel grabbed Coleen’s arm. “Isn’t that a choice she should make?”

Sara nodded. “That’s not your place, Coleen.”

Coleen stood, and teeth bared, hissed at the two women. “You know nothing of my place.” Turning her wrath on Sara, her eyes glowed bright blue. “You’re half a second old, and have the nerve -”

Ash stepped between Coleen and Sara. “This isn’t about you, Coleen, and Sara is right. Wake Bryce up and ask her what she wants. It doesn’t have to be more complicated than that.”

The ensuing argument became background noise to Alison as she looked down at Bryce. The woman she loved had spent the better part of a century changing how she thought and felt about the world in an effort to reclaim her humanity. She had embraced ideals based in the fundamental belief that humans were good, in spite of everything she had witnessed to the contrary.

Now, she was human, and Alison didn’t know what was going to happen; only that as always, Bryce’s choices would be her own. Alison hoped those choices would leave them together.

Epilogue

“The meds really will help. Promise.” Alison handed Bryce a glass of orange juice and a box of over the counter Claritin allergy pills.

“My god, this is horrible.” The redhead sneezed into a crumpled tissue she held in her hand.

“Rethinking the whole human thing?” Alison teased.

Bryce shook her head as she popped a Claritin in her mouth and chased it with a drink of the orange juice. “No. Rethinking living in South Texas.”

“They say if you don’t have allergies, move to San Antonio, and you’ll get them.” Alison took the empty orange juice glass from Bryce. Looking at the beautiful woman prone on the couch brought a smile to Alison’s face.

Bryce had been human for eight months, and they had been living together for a little over six. The two women had fallen into a comfortable intimacy, and Alison couldn’t be happier. The first month after the transformation, Bryce had been a wreck. Whatever havoc the human to vampire transformation may have inflicted on her body, the slide back to human had been ten times worse.

Besides having to explain to a very suspicious and more than a little concerned general practitioner why a woman in her thirties had never been immunized, Bryce had to contend with many long forgotten inconveniences of being human. Not the least of which were fatigue, sickness, sweat, the need to cut her hair and nails, and menstruation.

“You don’t have to go. They will completely understand that you’re sick.” Alison walked toward the kitchen and deposited the empty glass in the sink.

“Absolutely not. This is the first group gathering, so I can’t beg off.” Bryce sat up and pulled a tissue from the box on the coffee table.

Alison smiled at Bryce’s persistence. The couple had kept in contact with Emma, Ash, Sara and Rachel over the past few months. Having Ash back in her life, along with the new friendships she had found with the other three women, resulted in a tremendous amount of joy for the professor.

They had even had drinks with Coleen on several occasions, but the woman struggled with Bryce’s decision to remain a human. The outings always seemed to turn into a sales pitch on why Bryce should let Coleen turn her back, and Bryce had begun declining the vampire’s invites.

Bryce had been on a whirlwind tour of meet and greets over the past eight months. The redhead had already met Chad and Gayle. She had even braved a lunch with Julia and lived to tell about it, and she and Elaine were now friends on Facebook and followed each other on Twitter. She and Wayne had managed to bond over her recent affinity for Maker’s Mark. Which was for the best, since Bryce had about as much skill golfing as she did swimming.

“So we’re going then?” Alison sat down next to Bryce on the sofa.

Nodding, the woman got up. “Yes. It’s on you anyway.”

Alison’s brow arched. “How’s that?”

Tossing the box of Claritin at Alison, Bryce grinned. “You’re the one touting the miracles of modern medicine.”

Jumping to her feet, Alison grabbed Bryce’s hand. The warmth the redhead now exuded still sent Alison’s heart into a drum roll. Wrapping her arms around Bryce’s waist, Alison pressed her lips to the woman’s neck. “I should examine you. Make sure you’re fit for travel.”

Bryce sighed, and placed her hands on Alison’s hips. “You did want to go, right?” Her hands moved to Alison’s lower backside.

“This is a first world problem.” Leaning back, Alison marveled at how beautiful Bryce was. “Go have a great night out with friends, or stay in bed with my girlfriend.” Kissing Bryce lightly on the lips, Alison smiled. “Decisions.”

Walking Alison backward toward the bedroom, Bryce placed kisses along the woman’s jaw and down her neck. “We can be late.”

###

Waking Forever Series

Book One: Waking Forever - April 2013

Book Two: Becoming Forever - January 2014

Book Three: Dying Forever - August 2014

Ela Origin Serials (Waking Forever Series)

Ela: Beginning Forever - July 2013

Ela: Changing Forever - August 2013

Ela: Losing Forever - October 2013

Ela: Forever (Complete Series) - December 2013

About the author:

Heather McVea was raised in a small town south of San Antonio, Texas. Prior to escaping to the big city, she raised Hampshire pigs, rode motorcycles at entirely too young an age, and once snow boarded behind a Ford pickup truck. She relishes a strong gin and tonic, but leans after three. Shiny twinkly things make her cringe, up to and including Hollywood vampires.

Heather and her wife have three fur babies and are working their way through all of the brewery tours in Texas.

Follow Heather on Twitter @HMcVea

Playlist:

The Way I Tend To Be - Frank Turner

Pillar of Davidson - Live

Whiskey in the Jar - The Dubliners

Drunken Sailor - Blaggards

The Bluest Eyes in Texas - A Camp

Say Something - A Great Big World

Hey Brother - Avicii

Babel - Mumford & Sons

Glory and Gore - Lorde

Little Talks - Of Monsters and Men

Young and Beautiful - Lana Del Rey

Long Long Time - Linda Ronstadt

Shake It Out - Florence + The Machine

Breathe In Breathe Out - Mat Kearney

Perfect Day - Lou Reed

Iris - Live