Branded (8 page)

Clutching the watch, I went upstairs. I never loosened my grip. I laid down on my bed, the watch’s energy buzzing inside of me. I stared at the ceiling and quickly fell asleep.

Chapter Eleven

The pounding that woke me synced with the throbbing in my head. Not exactly a headache, more like my pulse had grown some heft and wanted to pound its way out of my skull. I grunted, thinking the sound would pass along with the sensation.

The noise stopped for a moment, then returned again. An even five thumps punctuated by another pause.

I realized the pounding (the outward pounding) came from my front door. I was tempted to pull my pillow over my head and ignore it. Something about the insistence behind the knocks gave me the impression whoever wanted to see me wasn’t going away.

Better not be some overzealous religious freak trying to push pamphlets into my hand. I might have to show them a real life miracle and set their pamphlets on fire with a quick word.

Thinking about magic reminded me of my father’s watch. I sat up in bed and the watch slipped down from my chest where it had been resting. The chain clattered against the silver case. I gathered the watch up and tucked it in the pocket of the pants I had spent all day yesterday in, and had slept in. A funky smell rose up from my body. I pitied whoever stood on my porch and was about to get a good whiff of that.

On my way down the hall, I absently touched my neck where the vampire had fed on me. The wound had shrunk to a rough scar. My father’s watch had worked some serious mojo on me while I slept. I wondered if I could hold out hope that it had eliminated the infection. Doubt hung around me, though, as I remembered what Sly had said last night. He had seemed pretty certain clearing the infection wouldn’t be so easy.

The pasty taste in my mouth made me grimace. I bet my breath smelled twice as nasty as my body. I probably wouldn’t have to set anybody’s pamphlets on fire with magic. I could do it with my dragon breath alone.

But when I opened the door, it wasn’t to a religious zealot.

It was Fiona.

I took a startled step backward. I also held my breath to keep from blowing any nastiness in her direction.

She wore a snug pair of jeans and a pink Hello Kitty T-shirt. Her face looked fresh and her hair a little damp, as if she had recently come out of the shower.

I wasn’t sure what time it was, but it was full on daylight, so I guessed it was probably on the other side of noon. In fact, the sunlight hurt my eyes, forcing me to squint.

The first sign of vampirism kicking in?

Don’t get all freaked out. You just woke up and you have a bass drummer practicing his drum line routine in your head. Don’t read too much into it.

“You’re that happy to see me, huh?” Fiona said. One corner of her mouth turned up. She was putting me on. Which, I had to admit, I found surprising, since I had totally stood her up last night. Good excuse or not.

“No,” I said, then realized what that sounded like. I sputtered for a moment before I could find a better set of words. “I mean, yes, I’m happy to see you. Just surprised.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “You didn’t really think I would let you off the hook so easily for your no-show, did you?”

“Honestly, I wasn’t sure what to think. I haven’t had much time to think.”

She tilted her head to one side to get a look at my neck. My skin burned with sudden self-consciousness.

“You okay?” she asked slowly.

A nice, open ended question. She was giving me an out, I realized. Rather than asking about the fresh scar on my neck directly. This girl really was too good to be true.

“I had a rough night. And I’m really sorry about standing you up. I had…” I glanced past her to the ripped up part of my lawn. “Car trouble?”

Her eyes narrowed. She seemed to process my words for a second before giving a small shrug. “Whatever. It’s your business, not mine.” That could have sounded sarcastic, or derogatory. Instead, she sounded perfectly genuine.

Again, I thought, this girl is way too good to be true. I almost reached out and swung my hand at her to see if it would pass through her like one of my father’s puppet conjurations. A faint soapy scent blowing in on the breeze hinted she was real enough. I tried a smile. My mouth felt stiff, but I think I got it right.

“So I’m forgiven?” I asked.

She screwed her lips up to one side and hummed. “One condition,” she said. “We reschedule. Make it an official date.”

Date? Had she just said
date
?

I stood there with my mouth hanging open. She laughed.

“Speak,” she said.

I shook off my initial shock when my father’s watch suddenly flared with magical heat in my pocket. It was like it was trying to tell me something. Or remind me.

Remind me that my life was way too damn complicated for dating. Especially a normal like Fiona. She deserved better. Like I had said at least twice already, she was too good to be true. Operative words in my case—
too good
.

“I can’t,” I said.

Her gaze went to my neck, then quickly recovered, looking me in the eyes. “Did I sound like I was asking?”

“Excuse me?”

“I wasn’t asking, Sebastian. I was giving you a condition of my forgiveness.”

I laughed. “I’m sorry. I really can’t. My life got really complicated in a few hours time. I really wish—”

“Don’t wish,” she said and stepped off the porch and through my door. She came in real close and I cringed at the idea that she could smell me. She didn’t appear bothered though. In fact, she moved so close we were practically touching. “You want to go out with me, don’t you? Catch an early dinner before I go in for my shift?”

“I…” Didn’t want to lie to her. Of course I
wanted
to. But we don’t always get what we want. Besides, she had no idea what she was getting herself into. I really liked her. I didn’t want to make her angry. I also didn’t want to lead her on. I had no idea how to get through this without coming across as a total asshole.

Before I could think up an answer, she reached up and gently touched my cheek. “I know things with your mom are rough. And I know that whatever you have going on in your personal life is a mess, even if I don’t know the details. I can see the pain in your eyes. Every time I look at you, ever since you brought Judith to the home.” She let her hand drift down off my check and lifted her chin. “I hate it,” she said. “I hate seeing such a caring man have no joy in his life.”

What could I say to that? Thanks for those amazing sentiments, but I still refuse to have dinner with you? It was just dinner. Not a marriage proposal.

I smiled. And really felt it.

“How is it you aren’t already hitched?” I asked.

“I have high standards.”

I laughed. She had buttered me up and good. I simply could not deny her anything. She could have asked for my deepest, darkest secret and I probably would have given it to her.

“Okay,” I said. “It’s a…”

“A date?”

“A date.”

Chapter Twelve

First thing I did after Fiona left was get my ass in the shower. I simply could not stand to smell myself any longer. I felt a lot better in general once the hot water sluiced off the grime and dried blood.

Once out of the shower, I wiped the steam off the mirror and checked my bite.

I winced. It was puckered and ugly even though it had completely closed up. It still looked like a bite mark, though. Gods help me, how in hell would I come up with a decent explanation for
that?

I made reservations at El Barzon in Mexicantown. I loved the place. It combined two of my favorite foods on one menu—Mexican and Italian. Hopefully, Fiona liked either of those. Everybody likes pasta, right?

When evening fell, I caught myself pacing the living room floor and counting off the minutes on my father’s pocket watch until I had to leave and pick up Fiona. She had told me to pick her up from the nursing home. That way I could drop her right back after dinner in time for her shift.

I waited a couple minutes longer than necessary before finally heading out, shooting for fashionably late. I didn’t want to look too eager.

I had to use my parents’ Buick parked out in the garage, seeing as someone had taken my car. Not that it would have run all that well considering its condition when I last saw it. I couldn’t very well pick up Fiona in a car covered in vampire guts anyway, so…

For a second, I worried the car might not start. I hadn’t run it in a while. Not like the first year, when I dutifully started it up at least once a week to make sure the motor didn’t get corroded. I had even driven it around the block a few times. But after that first year, with more and more evidence that Mom wasn’t coming out of her fugue, I lost the will to so much as look at the car, never mind climbing behind the wheel.

The engine did its equivalent of a throat clearing, but it purred right along once it got going.

I found Fiona right where she had promised, standing at the end of the approach to the nursing home’s front door. But she was most decidedly
not
dressed for work. I gasped at the sight of her in the evening sunlight and nearly veered off into the shrubbery lining the front of the building.

She wore a flowered spring dress that came to just above the knees. And what a delicate and beautiful set of knees they were. Her skin looked like milk with a splash of honey. Her normally straight blonde hair had a wave to it, and it carried a fresh shine that, when framing her face, brightened the color in her cheeks as well.

And, man, that smile that lit her face when she saw me pull up?

I would have killed my way through a horde of zombies to get to that smile.

As I came even with the approach, she stepped forward. She pulled the passenger side door open and ducked down to look in at me. “Going my way?” she asked.

“Looking like that,” I said, “I’ll go anywhere you tell me to.”

Her smile somehow cranked up a hundred watts. I felt a little funny in my belly. A flock of butterflies had taken residence apparently.

“That’s sweet,” she said.

“And one-hundred percent true.”

She climbed in and we were off.

Our reservation at El Brazon was for right when they opened at the dinner hour. We could eat, chat over wine, dessert, coffee, and the last dregs of our water if need be, and have plenty of time to get her back to the home for her shift.

“You going to work dressed like that tonight?” I asked on the way.

She laughed. “I think I would give some of the gentleman residents cardiac arrest. They are fragile beasts, but they are still men let me tell you.”

Now I laughed. “You mean they try to put the moves on you?”

“Oh, some of them are sweet talkers. No doubt they had all the ladies in their prime.”

The rest of the evening went much like that. Fun, light conversation. At every turn until our meal arrived, I tensed, just waiting for the hard questions. What do you do for a living? What happened to your parents? Why do you have an ugly scar from a vampire bite on your neck?

None of that came up. It was like she knew exactly what I was comfortable talking about. It never got too serious. I learned she had a hell of a wit and a sense of humor to use it with. I learned she grew up in Atlanta before moving north to Michigan with a boyfriend who ended up dumping her two months later, essentially stranding her in a strange place with really bad weather.

But she hadn’t let it get her down. And she had refused to run back home. Instead, she made a life for herself in the Metro area. Now, she was doing pretty well and on her way to a business degree through online classes at Macomb Community College.

By the time the waiter cleared our plates and left us with coffee, all my worries about what might go wrong on this date had faded to nothing. I had to admit to myself that this had been a good idea. And that, maybe, I could allow myself some personal happiness to go along with my professional life.

Eventually, the magic had to come to an end. It always did. Good thing was, there was always more magic around the bend. Despite my earlier reservations, I decided I wanted to do this again. Desperately.

As the sun sunk below the cityscape and the light took on a fiery orange tinge, we drove out of Detroit and back into the suburbs. Strangely, we didn’t talk much. It was as if we both just wanted to bask in the glow of a perfect evening. We had the windows down, the warm air blowing in, sending her blonde waves into mad swirls against her cheeks. She had some level of a smile on the whole drive back. Judging from the cramp in one cheek, I did too.

When we reached the suburbs and were only about ten minutes from the nursing home, Fiona reached over and rested a hand on my thigh. I tingled from her touch right up to my scalp. I took one hand off the wheel and rested it on hers.

I may have even sighed contentedly, but would deny it if asked.

We reached the nursing home too quickly. I hated having to let go of her hand.

I played the gentleman and came around to open the door for her, and she let me be old fashioned without complaint.

Then, there we were, standing in the same spot in front of the nursing home where I had picked her up. I took both of her hands, smiled at her, probably looked dopey as hell and I didn’t give a damn.

“I had a really nice time,” I said.

“Yeah,” she said. She closed in until our bodies barely had an inch between them. She smelled like some sweet flower I didn’t know the name of. I liked it though, could breathe that in all day. She tilted her head back as she looked up at me. We had a good four-inch difference in height. “Can we do it again?”

“For sure.”

We stood there, quietly for a moment. I watched her lips. I wanted to feel them against mine. Honestly, I wanted to feel a lot more of her against a lot more of me, but as smitten as I may have been, I didn’t want to rush anything. I wondered if even a kiss would be too much too soon.

To hell with it, I thought, and went in for the kill.

Poor choice of words, because that’s when the Dalton brothers tried to kill
me
.

Chapter Thirteen