Cleaners were the fixers of the supernatural world. They made evidence of paranormal activity vanish. It was a stretch to call this their jurisdiction. Gwyllgi handled their own problems.
But I was tired. And Corbin was being nice. So, I was willing to bend, just this once.
“Thanks.” I managed not to choke on the words. “Drive me back to Woolly?”
I wanted Keet safe behind the bars of his cage while I unwound from our adventure and confessed all to Aunt Grier before the internet—or Miss Lacy—tattled on me.
“What kind of date would this be if I didn’t end the night walking you to your door?”
“This isn’t a date.” I ignored the uptick in my pulse I was sure he heard. “You also have a room at Woolworth House, so…it’s more like me walking you to your door.”
“I’ll take it.”
“Exit to the left,” Keet chirped. “To the left, to the left, to the left, to the left.”
“The emergency exit,” Corbin murmured. “Good idea.” He frowned down at Keet. “What about him?”
With his backpack ruined, I was forced to resort to how I carried him when I was a kid. “I got this.”
Corbin went ahead, scouting the hall leading out of the building, while I tucked in my shirt.
“I had to ditch my bra,” I told Keet. “Don’t get any ideas while you’re down there.”
Gently, I slid him into the neck of my shirt, and he nested on the fold of material above my waistband.
After taking one last look around, I joined Corbin, whose proud smile hadn’t budged all night.
Determined to ignore that, to ignore him, I led the way to the garage and called for the elevator.
We rode up in silence, which was nice, minus Keet yanking hairs out of my navel.
That freaking hurt.
The Bronco was impossible to miss, or maybe it was my infatuation that made it stand out to me.
“Get you a girl,” Corbin whispered in my ear, “who looks at you like Eva looks at 1969 Broncos.”
“I’m sure that won’t be a hardship for you.” I elbowed him. “1969 Broncos? Now those are rare.”
Ones that had been fully restored to my exact dream specifications anyway.
Gah.
I should have said yes when Uncle Linus offered to buy me one for my sixteenth birthday, but no. I had to be proud and have principles and blah blah blah at him about earning my own money and how much sweeter the reward would be.
Sixteen-year-old Eva had been a total and complete idiot, in my humble opinion.
As I opened the passenger-side door, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye.
Bast.
And whoa boy was he pissed. He must have heard the news about Mathieu from Ormand.
About to untuck my shirt and pray to God Keet didn’t decide to tour Savannah by moonlight, I jerked to a standstill when that same glitter of madness sparked in Corbin’s eyes. He leapt onto Bast, knocking him flat on his back. Bast’s skull hit the concrete with a dull thud, and crimson spread under his head.
Corbin kept going, hammering away at him, until Bast was a smear on the parking deck floor.
The frantic beat of my heart drew Corbin’s attention, and he stared in a daze at what he had done.
“Here.” He tossed me the keys to the Bronco. “I should go.”
“Corbin.” I fumbled to catch them. The blood made them slick. “What are you…?”
Slinky as a cat shifter, he jumped onto the metal railing, then leapt into open air.
“Corbin.” I raced for the edge. “Corbin.”
Old-growth oaks obscured my view, but patrons scattered from his fall or my screams or both.
There was no point in searching for him. I wouldn’t find him. I tried that once. Okay, a million times.
A covert ops vampire knew how to disappear when the situation called for it, but why did this one rate? There had been no formal challenge to protect Bast, and there could be no doubt he was out for blood. Security footage would corroborate our story.
Corbin had no reason to run. The sentinels, and the pack, would rule in his favor. So why vanish on me?
The manic gleam in his eyes was new. So was the flirting. What had changed? Him or me?
“Pepperoni,” Keet mumbled through my shirt. “Sausage. Ham. Bacon, bacon, bacon.”
Despite parakeets being omnivores, Keet was trending toward carnivore in his old age, around fifty.
“Okay.” I eyed the keys in my palm. “I’ll order a pizza, and we’ll race the driver to Woolly.”
In the Bronco. That Corbin had left in my care. I wanted to vomit from the responsibility of driving it.
Careful not to harm Keet as I strapped on my seat belt, I slid the key into the ignition and noticed a silver charm on the loop. A dog tag. The kind soldiers wore. One side held Corbin’s information stamped on its battered surface. The other side…
Happy eight belated birthdays since the last time I saw you.
My chin misses you.
I do too.
Tears smudged my vision, and my throat grew tight.
“Pepperoni,” Keet demanded, yanking on my shirt. “Sausage.”
“I’m on it,” I assured him, wiping my eyes dry. “I need to make some calls first, okay?”
The cleaners had to be made aware there was another body for them to collect.
Out in the open.
Where anyone could see.
Such was paranormal life, but sheesh.
Think of the children.
With that formality observed, I dialed Rollo, the pack enforcer on duty, and requested he dispatch a packmate to guard Bast’s remains. On second thought, I requested a tarp to spread over the body too.
While I waited on the promised enforcer, I placed the pizza order to prevent Keet from mutinying.
As I fit my fingers into the indents made by Corbin on the steering wheel, I measured my hand against his much larger one. I could almost imagine the metal was still warm from his skin.
Lost in thought, I startled when Marly, one of the top enforcers, arrived to claim the scene.
With a dip of my chin, I put the Bronco in reverse and made my way out of the parking deck.
As I passed beneath the trees, I shrugged off a prickle of awareness that warned I was being watched.
“Thank you,” I whispered, allowing the wind to catch the words and fling them into the cool night.
“Welcome, welcome, welcome.” Keet wriggled against my stomach. “Pizza, pizza, pizza.”
Stuffed crust wouldn’t solve all my problems, but it was a good start.
Until I figured out what had changed with Corbin, well, at least I had Meat Lovers’ Supreme.
And a 1969 Bronco in reef aqua that smelled like leather and copper, vampire and…possibilities.
USA Today best-selling author Hailey Edwards writes about questionable applications of otherwise perfectly good magic, the transformative power of love, the family you choose for yourself, and blowing stuff up. Not necessarily all at once. That could get messy.
Author website: https://haileyedwards.net
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By Jennifer Blackstream
THAT DOG MUMMY JUST MOVED.
I stared at the embalmed beast under the glass case before me, my tail swishing back and forth over the museum floor. There. The bit of loose bandage on the right of the small bundle with the vaguely canine-shaped head. It had definitely moved. Fluttering as if in a breeze.