The Mermaid's Bubble Lounge, page 22
Russell raised an eyebrow at me. “My lady, why would you throw me under the bus?”
Grinning, I tipped my head onto his shoulder. “Because there’s a lot more to the human experience and the vampire one than some pasty white guy with a strange accent crooning, ‘I vant to drink your blood.’ Your story is America’s story.”
“For some,” he allowed.
“For many who passed before their stories could be told to someone like my great-uncle. who would honor and preserve it.”
Russell nodded, walking us out to Bracken’s SUV. “I’ll think on it.”
“I can’t ask for more than that,” Bracken said, offering another card with his contact information. “If you choose to, I can come to you.”
Russell slid the card into his pocket and escorted me to the passenger side of the vehicle. He opened the door and waited until both Bracken and I were in. He bent down and speared Bracken with a look that felt very much like a threat.
“You will make sure nothing happens to her,” he warned.
Bracken nodded. “I will see to it that no harm comes to her in my care.”
I tapped Russell’s arm.
His expression softened. “Yes, my lady?”
“I’m a big, scary werewolf, you know?”
“Of course you are,” he said, though I didn’t miss the twinkle in his eye.
“You’re asking for it, buster.” I made a fist with my right hand.
He patted it. “Remember, thumb on the outside.” Laughing, he closed my door.
Chuckling, Bracken backed out and drove through the opening gates.
“Jerk,” I muttered.
“You have such an interesting relationship with the vampires,” he said. “They are a very formal lot with a love of hierarchy, but you they allow to break norms and behave as you wish.”
“Clive says since I’m not a vampire, I don’t have to follow their rules.”
Bracken shook his head as I directed him where to go. “I’ve known other humans in contact with vampires. They were treated lower than the lowest vampires. They treat you like a beloved little sister. It’s quite fascinating.”
“Okay, first of all, I’m not human. And there are plenty of vampires who hate my guts. Granted, most of them are dead now, but still. I’m a werewolf-wicche mix, and the wicche is a necromancer. Do you know what vampires are?”
Bracken glanced at me and then back on the road. “Undead humanoids who survive on blood?”
“The undead part being the most important in this case.” I had him turn again.
He looked at me twice in quick succession. “Do you have power over vampires?” He was having a hard time tamping down his excitement.
“No. And you can never write that in your notes or put it in a book. If that were known, even suspected, I’d be hunted by just about every vampire out there.”
He nodded. “I understand.”
We drove in silence for a while, with me only telling him which turns to take. Eventually, when we were close to home, he said, “I think it only fair, given what you have hinted at, to share a secret of mine with you.” He glanced over to check my response.
I nodded.
“I, too, am not just a wicche. I’m a bit of a black sheep in the Corey family, though most have no idea why. Only my mother was a Corey, you see. My father is fae. Like your cousin Arwyn, the fae blood makes our magic much stronger than other pureblood wicches.”
“Ah, the pureblood thing,” I groused. “My Aunt Abigail hunted my mother and me most of my life because my werewolf blood was sullying the Corey bloodline. I’m an abomination, apparently.”
He patted my knee. “She was a bad egg.”
“It’s up here on the right.” I pointed. “That one.” Our house was a gorgeous modern Tudor design. Clive had purchased the apartment house that stood here and had it torn down to the studs and rebuilt into a house for us. He chose this location because it was across the green from the steps to The Slaughtered Lamb. My morning commute was about a minute and a half, and we had amazing views of the ocean.
“The garage door is on the side, so turn here. I’ll jump out and alter the ward so you can enter.”
Bracken was staring up at the house and when he turned the corner, one side of his SUV lifted like he’d driven over the curb. “Sorry,” he said. “I hadn’t realized I was cutting that so close.”
He pulled into the driveway and I stepped out, glancing around for any animals too interested in us. Seeing nothing, I went to the garage door, pulled on my magic, and placed my hand on the doorframe.
Allow Bracken and his vehicle to enter our home. I typed in the long security code and the door slid up. If I hadn’t altered the ward, he wouldn’t have been able to enter, even if the door was up.
As he started down the drive, I jogged ahead so I could show him where to park. At the bottom of the hill, the garage opened to the right into a huge showroom of luxury cars. I pointed to the left, so he could get out easily.
“My goodness,” he said, grabbing an overnight case from his back seat. “You weren’t kidding. This collection is extraordinary.” He started to follow me to the elevator but then stopped in his tracks. “Is that the 1965 Aston Martin DB5?”
He dropped his bag and went to the little silver roadster, staring at it in wonder. He glanced back at me, eyes glowing. “This is James Bond’s car.”
I laughed. “That sounds about right. Clive is terribly posh.”
“My word. Do you think he’d ever let me drive it?” His expression was so bright, I’d never have guessed he was in his late sixties. Which then made me realize that Clive might be right about the glamour.
“We can ask,” I told him. “He’s very generous, but also pretty careful with his cars.” I picked up his bag for him. “Little secret, though: If I ask him, he’ll say yes.” I hit the elevator button.
Bracken took the bag from me. “Because he’s hopelessly in love with you.”
I grinned. “Yeah. There’s that.”
The doors opened and we stepped in. They re-opened a moment later into the den. Fergus stretched his long body on the couch and rose above us. Bracken stopped, his fingers twitching at his side.
Fergus stepped off the cushions and leaned into me. His head was between my waist and my arm, so he could nuzzle me while checking out our visitor.
I did my best to block Fergus. “Please don’t curse my pup.”
THIRTY-FIVE
Everyone Is Dealing with Something
“Wait. Let me get Daddy’s jacket off or it’ll be covered in dog hair.” I draped Clive’s jacket over the chair Vlad liked to use in the corner. “I think that collar can be repaired.” I turned back to my giant little guy. “Buddy, this is my great-uncle Bracken. He’s going to stay with us tonight.” I flicked on a lamp so they could see each other.
Bracken dropped his bag again and offered his hands to Fergus to sniff. “A Wolfhound? Does he hunt you?”
“He would never. He loves his mommy.” I went to the back door and opened it for the pup, following him out.
“How lovely,” Bracken said. “You’ve created a perfect English garden here, haven’t you?” He wandered down the path, through the flowers and trees.
“Would you like me to turn on a light?” I asked.
“Not necessary,” he responded. “I can see perfectly fine by moonlight. Which reminds me.” He came back into view around a tall flowering bush. Pointing up at the full moon, he asked, “Do you feel a push to shift?”
I nodded. “I feel it, but I can resist if I need to. It’s not like old horror films where as soon as I see a full moon, the transition begins.”
He nodded. “Declan takes his pack out for a run at the full moon. He said the pull is quite strong for most werewolves, but he can resist it, if need be. I assume it’s because you are both Quinns.”
“Maybe. I do go for full moon runs because they feel good and I want to, but if I can’t, like tonight, I just feel kind of prickly and uncomfortable. I’ll run tomorrow night.” I checked the time on my phone. “Or maybe a quick one tonight.”
“Do you run in wolf form in the city?” he asked.
I tipped my head back and forth. “Not through the city streets. I have tunnels to the Presidio and to the North Bay from The Slaughtered Lamb. More often than not, I choose the North Bay because there are forests to run through.”
“With no pack, do you run alone, or does Fergus accompany you?”
“Are you interviewing me?” I gave him my squinty, suspicious look.
He tapped his pockets again. “Sorry. I—I have difficulty with new places and situations. I’ve found that if I assume the persona of an outgoing researcher, I can short-circuit the anxiety and interact with others.” He shook his head. “I’m sure that sounds ridiculous.” He rubbed his forehead, clearly embarrassed. “It’s hard to explain, but adopting this persona helps me seem more normal and helps me get out of my RV. My curiosity and interest are stronger than my other issues.”
My throat felt tight and my eyes went suddenly wet. I nodded. “After my attack, I hid. A wicche friend of my mother’s knew I loved books and reading, so she suggested working in a bookstore. I knew I could never go out in the world and hold a job like that, so I daydreamed about opening a bookstore. It had to be a hidden bookstore that only other supernaturals—not werewolves—could enter. Helena, Mom’s friend, said she’d speak with Clive about it.”
I sat on a patio chair and Fergus put his head in my lap. “Eventually, I met with him. It was one of the scariest moments of my life. Not because he was a vampire, but because he was a strange man. He was so gentle with me, though, guiding me through my ideas, helping me picture exactly what I wanted. He hired the architect and the builders. I thought it was my uncle who’d loaned me the money to start The Slaughtered Lamb. I found out seven years later that it was Clive who’d paid for everything. He felt sorry for a poor scarred and brutalized wolf and so stepped in to help her make a life for herself.”
He got a funny look on his face. “You were a teenager?”
I nodded. “Seventeen.”
“And you started dating him then?”
I held up a hand. “Oh, no. My goodness. I was doing what you said. I was trying my hardest to pretend to be brave, greeting the people that came to The Slaughtered Lamb, serving them tea and beer, trying to learn how to make cocktails, researching and buying books—I’ve added all of yours to the collection, by the way—and recommending titles when I was feeling very brave, though I had to practice what I was going to say multiple times in my head before I built up the courage to say it out loud.
“Almost immediately, Clive told me he had someone who wanted to work as a part-time cook, so I could offer food. That was Dave.”
“Ah, yes,” Bracken said. “I’ve met Dave. You weren’t frightened to have a half-demon work there?”
I shook my head. “No more so than anyone else. I was afraid of everything, and he was just grumbly and cranky enough to knock through some of those walls I’d built around myself. I used to work opening to closing every day, manning both the bookstore and bar, but Dave would sometimes come out to help at the bar if I was busy. He’s horrible with customers, but he had two extra hands and knew how to make any cocktail requested.
“I was lucky to have Owen, wicche extraordinaire and all-around awesome person, offer to work here during my third or fourth week open. He came in for a book, saw me use a tea bag to brew tea, and told me I needed to hire him because he couldn’t watch me do that.”
Bracken laughed. “Wicches and our teas.”
“Exactly. So, no, Clive and I weren’t dating. I’d contented myself to always be alone. I assumed I was too broken to ever be romantic material. It wasn’t until last year, when Abigail found me and renewed her campaign to kill me, that Clive and I started spending time together, trying to figure out how I kept getting locked into horrendous visions and if whoever was doing that was the same person leaving dead, scarred wolves in the water outside my window.”
I waved my hand. “It’s a long story.”
“Clearly, somewhere along the way, his feelings changed,” Bracken said. “He built a library to woo you, after all.”
I shrugged. “That’s a him story, not a me story. In answer to your question from way back, though, I used to do full moon runs alone, thinking no one saw or knew about me. It turned out the whole supernatural community knew I was a werewolf but never mentioned it, as I didn’t seem to want to discuss it. Last year, I started getting chaperones because Abigail was back. Lately, though, Fergus goes with me and usually Clive, if he’s free.”
“Fascinating.” He looked in the back door. “The den we walked through is a very handsome room. May I see the rest of your home?”
“You betcha.” I slapped my thigh. “Come on, Fergus. Let’s give Uncle Bracken the tour.” Our house was gorgeous, and I enjoyed showing it off.
When we got to the second floor, I ducked into my bedroom to change into slippers. In the hall opposite the bedroom door, I found Bracken studying an old painting.
“That’s one of Clive’s. It’s how San Francisco used to look two hundred years ago when he’d first arrived.”
Bracken held up his phone. “May I take a picture?”
“I don’t see why not.”
When he finished, I waved him toward the door at the end of the hall. He glanced in, turned to me, and grinned. “And then he built you a second library.”
The library took up what had been two apartments. It had vaulted ceilings, with mahogany bookshelves lining three of the walls. Like in the nocturne, there were small, engraved brass plates identifying the different sections of the library. Each wall had a brass ladder on rails, making higher shelves more accessible. The floors were the same dark wood, though they were topped with rugs in deep oceanic tones.
A large desk stood at the far end. This room could serve as my office, if I wanted one, but I didn’t. I just wanted a library. The desk had a beautiful periwinkle leather chair behind it, but I chose soft fabric couches and chairs in watery blues for the rest of the furniture. I wanted a cozy refuge, a place where reading could give way to napping.
“It was only fair. I had to give up the nocturne library. It had a window seat with curtains and everything.”
Bracken nodded, understanding the seriousness of the situation. “Like Jane Eyre.”
I reached out and squeezed his forearm. “That is exactly right. The nocturne’s window seat had a view of the back garden, the city, and the bay beyond. Sometimes, I’d just hole up in there and stare out the window to think and daydream. Clive always knew where to find me.”
Bracken scanned the room and then pointed at the closed curtains in the corner.
I turned off the lights and nodded for him to go ahead. “As a vampire lives here, all the windows on the second floor have metals shields that drop to block the sun. All except this window, which is why it has such heavy curtains.”
He pulled them back and took in the cushions, pillows, and blankets. “This is quite the cozy reading fort you’ve created.” He sat and looked out the window at the green across the street, the huge trees, the ocean in one direction and the bay and Golden Gate Bridge in the other. “Perfect,” he said wistfully.
“Why no sun shields on the first floor?” he asked. “You have guest rooms down there. No vampire guests?”
“We have a guest room up here, too, if we need it. Most visiting vampires prefer staying at the nocturne. It has everything they could possibly need. It’s also safer for us—meaning me—if we don’t have vamps hanging out here. Now that Clive has given up the nocturne, he enjoys the privacy and solitude.”
“Especially now that he has a wife?” he suggested.
I nodded. “We actually do have Vlad and Cadmael staying with us, rather than at the nocturne, right now, but they’re not in this house. Well, Vlad often pops in, but we gave him my old apartment behind The Slaughtered Lamb to stay in, and Cadmael prefers the folly.”
“The folly?” he asked.
“Oh, my goodness.” I stood abruptly. “You’ll love it. Do you know about dragon follies?”
“I’ve heard of them,” he said, “but I’ve never seen one. Have you?” He took out his journal.
I waved him forward. Fergus bolted up from his library bed to follow us. “When we were in Wales, we stayed in the Drake family keep. A couple of the dragons were not happy about playing host to vampires, so they gave us the most disgusting storerooms in the basement.”
We went down the stairs to the first floor. “Clive sent Russell and Godfrey to find any place safe for them and vaguely comfortable for me. They came back having found the folly. We sneaked out and moved to the folly in the woods. As it’s a dragon’s folly, it was underground, so sun-safe for the vamps. We didn’t get to explore the whole thing, but the first huge cave was intended for the littlest dragons, so they could play pirate. It was absolutely incredible. Godfrey wanted to move in and stay.”
I took Bracken and Fergus back into the den and opened the elevator panel, tapping the button. As we were the last to use it, it opened right away. “The next room, though, was the one that made all the vampires lose their minds. It was a medieval castle with a neighboring village. The dragons liked to attack the castle. Anyway, what was so amazing about it is that the dragon builders created what looked like an infinite sky. There are hidden controls where you can set the time of day you want, and this medieval world was set to midday. The vamps, for the first time in many hundreds of years, were able to stand in the sun.”
“That’s extraordinary,” Bracken breathed, his journal twitching in his hand. He so wanted to start taking notes.
We walked across the garage. “We helped the Drakes rescue a long-lost loved one, and as a thank you, Benvair herself asked the builders to let us hire them for a folly. We had to pay a mind-numbing fee, but the fact that the dragons built a folly for a vampire and a werewolf was unprecedented. They were none too happy, but it was a lot of money, so they sucked it up and did it.”
