“Holy shit. Lora?”
“Yes.”
He waited for her to lower the gun. She didn’t. He watched as her trigger finger drifted from the straight out position to curl around the trigger.
“What, are you going to shoot me, just as our boy learns who he is? He needs me, Lora. He’ll die without me. That vampire’ll drain him dry.”
“You eat people,” she hissed.
“And so will he. You know that vampire’s fucking him? That’s how you raised him?”
“I didn’t raise him. Neither did you.”
“Neither of us is perfect. But I’ll tell you the same thing I told the vampire. Killing me will only hurt the kid. I think we've both hurt him enough. Don’t you?”
His boy might be gay, and he might basically be a vegetarian, but he certainly seemed to have everybody around him wrapped around his overly smooth little finger. Ivan did not bear Will any malice for having knocked him unconscious, tied him up, and turned him over. It was an act of strength, almost.
“Does he know you’re his mom?”
“No. We thought it would be too much for him.”
“You mean you’re too scared to tell him because he’ll hate you.”
“He hates me anyway because I’m a cop.”
“Yeah, well. Understandable. So what? You going to drag me back to the vampire’s basement at gunpoint?”
Lora cursed and lowered her weapon. “You deserve to fucking die, Ivan.”
He didn’t deny it. “I’ve missed you too, baby.”
Having had his ass whipped for about the last goddamn time, Lorien had packed up his things and was moving on. He hadn’t bothered to tell Maddox. Maddox probably wouldn't notice. Too busy fawning over his cannibal wolf pup and trying to kill his dad. It was far too much of a full house for Lorien's liking. But there was another house he’d recently seen, a place that seemed like it would suit him nicely. Somewhere he could rule the roost.
“What are you doing?” Chauvelin appeared from the basement just as Lorien stepped through the front door of the grand house just after dusk. He was hobbling slightly, but he had clearly survived his impromptu crucifixion. It was not easy to kill the little guy. Lorien was starting to gain some real respect for that fact.
“Moving in,” Lorien said. “I’ll take the bedroom on the top floor.”
He expected there to be some kind of pushback from the short fledgling. He didn’t get it.
Chauvelin smiled. “Life with Maddox not so much fun?” He would know.
“Life with Maddox is life being blamed for every little thing,” Lorien said. “You got a problem with me being here?”
“You did kill the two men I loved most in all the world,” Chauvelin mused. “And you did stand by while that usurper tortured me. I suppose I should loathe you with an eternal fire that will never rest. But I don’t know. I’ve been doing that for a while now and it's not gotten me anywhere in particular. It might be time to start making friends.”
“Thanks. I’ll try not to kill anyone else you like. And maybe give you a heads up if anybody is coming with construction materials.”
Chauvelin followed Lorien up to the top bedroom. It was a very nice turret room; the kind everybody thinks they’ll fill with books. Lorien intended on filling it up with his journals. He’d have to write one first, but it was about time, really.
“I’m actually glad you’re here,” Chauvelin said, perching on the edge of one of the turret’s book cases like an oddly handsome little gargoyle. It was a fact that those who had been average looking humans often made quite pleasant looking vampires, something about the way death sat on a man could transform him from a tedious little snot into a work of art. The hair that had used to be thinning was now thick and lush, the skin was clear, the eyes were perfectly dark, two pools of evil oblivion. His features were sharper, cheekbones higher, chin more defined. He was very nearly elegant. “It’s been lonely.”
“Has it? Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten all your little vampire friends killed while trying to slay Maddox.”
Maybe not,” Chauvelin agreed, a little sheepish. “Maybe you could teach me the ways of being a successful vampire.”
“Maybe,” Lorien said, his ego thoroughly appealed to. “Yes. Maybe.”
“This is a cop diner. You know I’ve got warrants, right?”
Candy had taken Ivan out to get some food. Ivan was happy to accompany her. It was good to see an old face, especially one he shared so much in common with. He wasn’t so keen on the destination, especially when he saw it had about six cop cars parked out front, and twice as many uniformed officers inside. Felt like a trap.
“Nobody here’s going to arrest you,” she said. “They're off duty.”
Ivan decided to trust her. Fuck it. If she was trying anything, there’d be a massacre and it’d be on her head. They took a booth in the back corner where he could see the whole place and was close to the bathroom if he had to ditch in a hurry. Lora still looked good. She’d always been pretty. Now she was a mature kind of beauty. Life had obviously had its way with her.