20
Everly
A thick fog falls over me that I can’t break. I must be dreaming. I have to be. I smile, my mind drifting back to Vincent. I can smell him all around me. His scent is seemingly imprinted on me.
But there’s another scent, too. Dogs. A lot of dogs. I look around my feet, and several animals are hunkered down around us—but none of them are alive. They move, and they look at me, but they have all been dead for a long, long time. Some of them are growling, the sound rusty and garbled, but very clear all the same. They aren’t friendly.
“Tea?” Mrs. Brewster offers, breaking me away from my thoughts of my mate.
“Thank you.” It would be rude of me to mention the dead, growling dogs. So I don’t. After all, it was so nice of Mrs. Brewster to invite me to tea.
I use the little tongs to drop one of the square sugar cubes in before I pick up the cup and bring it to my lips. I pause, my stomach suddenly turning at the idea of drinking the tea. Something is off, but I can’t place what it is.
“You don’t like it? I made that tea with special leaves from my garden. Try it,” the nosy old lady neighbor urges.
Again I bring it to my mouth, but my lips stay firmly closed. I can’t get them to open no matter how hard I try. “So you’ve fully mated him I see, then. That makes things a bit more complicated.” She seems annoyed at me, but I’m unsure why. I thought we were having a pleasant tea.
“I have a mate. Vinny!” I call for him, my chest starting to ache with his absence.
Mrs. Brewster snatches the teacup from out of my hand. Tea goes splashing onto the counter, the cup shattering and sending porcelain everywhere. A piece knicks my forearm. I grab one of the small square napkins to stop the bleeding.
The dogs growl even louder, one of them getting to its feet, its tail nothing more than bones.
“Your mate will be along soon. Don't worry your pretty little head about it.” She huffs as she picks up the pieces of teacup off the floor and tosses them into the trash. “Did you know vampire blood can make the most beautiful roses? If I would have had some, I never would’ve lost the annual rose competition to Imelda. I bet that’s why she won. She’s a little cheater. But I no longer have to worry about her.” She gives me a smug smile. “Or the hooligans that spray-painted my back fence. Their blood is already helping my peonies bloom bigger than ever. Can you believe it? Peonies! In this climate.” She sighs contentedly. “But there’s an even bigger prize. One that can make my garden the best in all the covens. Vampire blood. That’s the good stuff.”
“You can’t have Vinny’s blood.” I lick my lips. There is no damn way I’m sharing my mate. He’s mine. Mrs. Brewster glares my way as she wipes up the spilled tea. “Mated vampire blood will kill you.” Or I’ll somehow kill her before I let her get a drop of my Vinny’s blood. I don’t say any of those things, though.
“I know that. I said for my roses. You’re lucky you’re a pretty little thing with a mate.”
“Thank you?” I glance around, forgetting where I am. The ache in my chest starts to grow worse. “Is he here? Where’s Vinny?”
“Here, dear.” I turn back to Mrs. Brewster. She blows something into my face. “That wore off fast.” I sneeze when the dust hits me. The ache in my chest lessens on contact.
“Where’s my mate?”
“You know, mates are rare.” She grabs my chin, gazing deeper into my eyes. “Where are your parents?”
“They died.” For the first time, the overwhelming urge to cry doesn't overtake me. There is still sadness, but my heart has healed some. I know it’s not time but Vinny that has done that for me. Vinny and maybe a pinch of whatever Mrs. Brewster just blew into my face.
“Your father was a vampire.”
“What?” I gasp. A giddy smile lights up her face. She releases my chin and starts to sing and dance around the kitchen.
“I had no idea the treasure I’d receive when I got rid of my last neighbor. What a treat. This has worked out so well in my favor.” She claps her hands together. “Your mate does have bad taste though. The worst.”
“Hey!”
“I wasn’t talking about you dear. Did he tell you why he put in those quartz countertops? They’re awful. Look at this granite.” She runs her hands over the counter. “Aren’t they beautiful? And he chose quartz? Really? Granite is timeless. Quartz a passing fad. I would’ve let him continue on his path to renovation, but he made that glaring mistake, and I simply can’t trust him to do it correctly.” She makes a pfft sound. “Quartz? Honestly.”