"Sit down, Isa."
Her tone brooked no refusal. Her grandmother might be as frail as a cobweb physically, but there was still a strident note of command in her voice that said she was a force to be reckoned with nonetheless.
Isa went back into the living room and sat on the couch, scowling. Her grandmother rummaged in the kitchen and then came out with two glasses. Instead of her normal tea, she poured herself a whiskey. And then poured one for Isa as well, handing it to her with a look that dared Isa to refuse it.
"Do you know how old I am?"
Isa blinked, not expecting that question. "Uh, of course. You're seventy-five."
"Wrong," her grandmother said flatly. "I'm a hundred and twenty-six. I was born August second, 1882 , in New Orleans , not Yonkers . When my mother ran off before my sixteenth birthday, I had no way to support myself except one—prostitution." She ignored Isa's gasp. "I started off on the streets, but then worked my way up to a nice room on Basin Street where the high-class 'soiled doves' lived. Prostitution was legal in an area of New Orleans back then that the locals called The District. Later, it became known as Storyville.
"One evening, a young man walked in and told the madam he wanted six girls for the entire night. Well, you can imagine how we laughed to ourselves at such a boast. But he paid, so we went upstairs with him." She paused to give Isa a knowing look. "Let me tell you something about vampires. With their stamina, six women for an entire night is simply a healthy start."
"Grandma!" Isa interrupted, shocked beyond further words at the thought of her grandmother being a paid participant with the undead in a ménage-a-whatever seven people consisted of.
"Oh, hush," her grandmother said casually. "The man who came to the bordello that night was a vampire named Bones, and he was looking for permanent residents for one of his houses. He showed all of us what he was, and to the three women who panicked, he erased that knowledge with the power in his gaze. To the three of us who didn't, he offered a new life living as his blood donors. We went with him, and he set us up in a beautiful house. Had tutors sent to teach us reading, writing, arithmetic, history, culture, anything we desired. And he gave us the most precious gift of all—the ability to stop aging, for a while at least."
"How?" Isa whispered, her mind reeling at everything she was hearing.
"Blood. Vampires don't age, one of the few things about their legend that's correct, and if you drink blood frequently enough from a vampire, your own aging will slow as well. I lived quite happily with Bones and the other girls for over forty years until I met your grandfather. Then I fell in love, but he had a very closed mind when it came to the supernatural. I either had to choose him and turn my back on everything I'd come to take for granted, or say no to true love. I chose love, Isa, and I haven't regretted it. Following your heart is always the right choice, no matter the circumstances."
Isa drained her whiskey in a gulp. Her grandmother's lips twitched as she sipped more daintily at hers.
"So is that how you met Chance?" Isa asked after a long silence. Then, "Good God, he's not the same vampire you lived with, is he?"
"Heavens, no. I only met Chance once, very briefly when Bones came to visit me after I'd married your grandfather. Then not again before two weeks ago."
This felt like a dream, sitting across from her grandmother discussing vampires, of all things. If Isa hadn't seen Chance's inhumanly glowing eyes herself—not to mention his fangs—she'd swear her grandmother was senile by relaying such a story. Still, there was nothing imaginary about a bullet hole in her stomach that wasn't there anymore.
"But Chance has been walking around in the daylight!" Isa suddenly exclaimed. "I thought vampires couldn't do that?"
"Really, dear, if you were an intelligent species that managed to hide your existence from mainstream society for thousands of years, wouldn't it make sense to plant some red herrings along the way? You know, like fake weaknesses such as a deathly aversion to sunlight or crosses? Then, when people saw you strolling around at high noon holding your rosary beads, they'd think, 'Well, that can't be a vampire,' because they believe the propaganda that's been deliberately mixed with the legend?"
Isa eyed her empty glass before going into the kitchen and pouring another stiff one. No one should have to process this info rmation sober.
"So they're not all monsters who lie in wait to feed off the blood of the innocent?" she asked hesitantly.
"Some of them are," her grandmother replied with utmost seriousness. "But most of them are decent people who only feed enough to live and don't kill their donors. Most people who've given blood to a vampire don't even remember it afterward. Their gaze is very powerful, and they have the ability to manipulate both behavior and memories. But being a vampire doesn't make them a monster, Isa. They'd have to choose that route for themselves."
So that was how Chance had hypnotized her before. So much for his being a freelance magician.
"And apparently shooting a vampire and sinking him to the bottom of the river doesn't kill one, so what does? A wooden stake through the heart?"
"Silver through the heart. Or decapitation, but a vampire won't hand you his or her head. Nor will one stand still and let you poke his heart with silver, either. Never try to battle against a vampire, Isa. They can kill you before you even blink."
Isa remembered how fast Chance had moved at the restaurant earlier. She hadn't even really seen him, he'd only been a blur. Yes, it was easy to believe how deadly vampires could be. Fangs. Mind control. Incredible speed and strength. All of it was very frightening.
…with their stamina, six women for an entire night is simply a healthy start…
Isa jerked her mind out of the gutter. Okay, so maybe it wasn't all frightening.
"You got Chance involved because of me and Frazier," she said at last. "I guess it makes sense. What's scarier than a mobster, if not a creature of the night? Well, why hasn't Chance just…eaten Robert, then? It would be no great loss to the world, in my opinion."
"I'm not sure myself," her grandmother replied slowly. "At first I thought it was because he wanted to make sure Frazier was safe. Then I wondered if he was waiting for some sort of backup from Bones. You know, if Chance intended to clean Robert's entire gang off the street, he'd get a few more mouths together to feed off them? But I spoke to Bones today, and he was very surprised to hear Chance still hadn't wrapped things up. So I'm guessing it has to do with you."
"Me?" Isa burst. "What about me?"
Her grandmother sighed. "Youth is truly wasted on the young. Come now, dear. Don't be stupid."
Isa stared at her. Her grandmother stared right back, unblinking. The thought formed in Isa's mind, hitting against wall after wall of uncertainty and anticipation.
Could Chance have been stringing along Robert just to spend more time with her? If so, what was she going to do about that? Scream and grab lots of garlic?
Or meet him with her hair up while wearing a low-necked gown?
Isa shook her head to snap out of her mental meanderings. Frazier was out there somewhere, and whatever she did or didn't feel for Chance, her brother's safety took priority. If Chance had been deliberately slow about bringing this situation to a conclusion, then she would have to speed him along. After all, if she had a vampire on her side to use as a weapon against Robert, then she was damn well going to point and fire him at the would-be mafioso.
"Do you think he was serious?" Isa asked at last, her gaze sliding toward the still-open window. "About killing the Salucci brothers, I mean?"