in the mirror.”
“Yesterday the color resembled emeralds. Today they are azure. Not red.”
“You’re hanging on to that theory, eh? Demons have red eyes. Or so the mythology states as much.”
“Zen.” Blade set his coffee mug on the counter and leaned forward. “That old lady back at the house where I met you? She wasn’t old or even a lady.”
“Sure she was. I spoke to her. Told her I was there to find myself. Though she did say something odd about finding herself. If she wasn’t an old woman, then what was she?”
“What you saw and spoke to was her human facade. I saw her shift into three demons. And then I slayed them.”
Tapping her fingernails against her mug, Zen surprised him in that she didn’t protest or stand up and dash off. The woman was reading him, delving into his words to glean their integrity. Trustworthy? Always. Upstanding? Rarely.
“What kind of demons?” she finally asked.
“I don’t know.” He narrowed his gaze on her. She wasn’t running. And asking questions was a good thing. Right? “The standard nasty-assed terrors that disperse into black dust when I draw my blade down their sternums.”
Zen clutched her chest and made a gagging face. “And you think I’m one of them?”
“No. Maybe.”
She gaped at him.
“I don’t know. But I do believe they were after you. When I was in the house, one of them said something like ‘she’s ours.’ You’re really cool with this conversation? Because most humans would not be.”
“I haven’t decided yet. I know demons exist. In mythology. As do bazillions of other breeds and species. But they are fiction, Blade. You do know that, right?”
He sighed. The conversation about paranormals was never easy, and he didn’t have it with humans unless it was absolutely necessary. Something about Zen made him believe this was a necessary conversation, so he decided to jump in with both feet and hope she didn’t freak.
“Demons are real, Zen. As are all other creatures of myth you believe are fiction. If you don’t have your memory, what makes you think your beliefs are real? That they have merit? Maybe you only think you don’t believe in mythological beings?”
She opened her mouth to say something, then paused. He had even confused himself with that question.
“I know some things,” she insisted. “As you seem to believe you know things. So I’ll play along. Say demons do exist. And you, apparently, are aware they exist. What does that make you? Are you some kind of creature, Blade?”
The million-dollar question. And she couldn’t hide the smirk of laughter that niggled at the corner of her mouth. But he wasn’t going to lie to her. Because to shuffle around the truth wouldn’t get him anywhere. And after slaying three demons he felt as though he’d become involved in something. A something that demanded he pay attention for Zen’s sake.
“Vampire.” He sipped the coffee and set it down. He ran his fingers through his hair and offered a tiny smile. He wouldn’t mention his faery half. That would only complicate matters.
He waited for Zen to digest his confession, and expected a calm reaction, as she’d displayed thus far. So when she stood abruptly and grabbed her backpack, nearly knocking the coffee cup off the counter in the process, he knew he’d gone too far.
“Quit playing with me,” she said. “I need help and I need answers. Not some idiot who thinks he can one-up the town asshole. Brock may have been the better choice last night.”
And she marched away from him and down the stairs.
Blade leaned over the sink and watched through the small window as she stopped halfway down his gravel driveway. She realized she no longer had a vehicle. The town was ten miles south. Would she make the walk? In a long dress?
Or would she come back inside and ask for his help? She hadn’t asked for his help thus far. And yet, he had willingly offered, and had gone above and beyond by giving her the roll of cash.
What was with that?
Normally Blade Saint-Pierre stood off and to the side, in the shadows. He didn’t call attention to himself. He didn’t like confrontations. Nor did he engage in small talk and friendships. It was easier that way. The unseen were not challenged, or tortured.
Too late for that, eh?
Yet he wanted her to see him for reasons that baffled. Of course, asking her to believe he was a vampire was out there, even for the smartest and most open-minded of humans.
After shuffling down the stairs, he headed out to his truck—he did have the appointment with the nuns—and smiled to himself. Zen would have a much longer walk than she anticipated.
* * *
He was following her, so Zenia picked up her pace, determined to make it to town before he could stop and once again offer her help. She didn’t need help from a wacked crazy who believed himself a vampire. What role-playing nightmare had he gotten lost in? Didn’t boys generally give up that stuff when they left their teens?
But it was a long walk. And he must be driving five miles an hour. Superobvious follow. Yet when his truck pulled in front of her to make a right turn, and his passenger-side window rolled down, it took all her strength not to rush up to the truck door and see what the handsome man had to say.
Arms crossed and posture stiff, Zenia stood at the road’s gravel edge. The sun was high and she guessed it would be a hot one today. She wondered if her skin burned easily. She didn’t want to make the long trek into town on foot. But she had reached her limit with trusting this guy. Handsome did not win over crazy. Usually.
Maybe?
Blade leaned across the seat and called, “Tangle Lake is in the other direction!”
Zenia steeled herself against turning and looking back the way she’d walked. “I knew that,” she said.
He tilted his head, as if to ask, “Really?”
“Fine.” She marched toward the truck. “You win.”
He popped the door lock open and she stepped up inside, setting her backpack on the floor. The tin circle poked out of the unzipped top.
“What’s that?” he asked with an urgency that again alerted her that this guy wasn’t all there in the head.
She tugged the pack onto her lap and pushed the circle inside, zipping it securely. “It’s mine. Now, would you mind giving me a ride to the big cock? Or whatever it is you called it? And I recall you had mentioned something about helping a couple of nuns. You must have an appointment to get to, so the sooner you drive me into town, the faster we can both be done with each other.”
“The big cock it is.” Blade shifted into gear. He drove a few miles before turning the radio down to a whisper. “It’s called The Red Rooster Inn.”
“Whatever,”
