Stakes & Stilettos Page 6

  The woman was in mourning for her lover. He would forgive her sharp tongue. Forgive, but not forget.

  Her beauty was as incredible as it always had been, but it dimmed slightly for him around the edges from that day forward.

  It didn't matter. Her grief would fade. Their relationship would become comfortable again. She would always think of him as a coward who had run away from a fight. He had to admit that it was an excellent cover.

  Thierry kept the truth in a tight ball deep in his chest. It warmed him on many cold nights to follow.

  Chapter 4

  Attending my high-school reunion tonight, I'd decided, was going to prove one very important thing to me.

  I was normal.

  No matter what had happened to me—becoming a vampire, killing a hunter in self-defense, being incorrectly labeled the Slayer of Slayers, having my apartment blown up, getting staked and nearly killed—none of that mattered. I was still perfectly normal.

  It was a goal.

  So, what had seemed like a vaguely okay idea a couple of weeks ago—going to the reunion—now was a vital necessity to help me feel as if my life hadn't gone completely out of control. Even though it had.

  Being staked had aged me. Significantly. I felt older and more wary and paranoid than ever before, at least until we reached the border of Abottsville, which, by the sign, reminded visitors in hand-painted letters that it was still "the home of the largest pumpkin in Ontario." Just seeing that sign helped me to relax a bit.

  Just a bit.

  "You're very quiet," Thierry said.

  Wow, if he was commenting on how little I was speaking, considering how little he usually spoke, then I was definitely not acting normally.

  "Sorry," I said. "Just having an internal monologue about life and death ."

  "Are you still all right with us coming here?"

  "Yes. Absolutely." I pushed all other thoughts away.

  "If you'd rather we turn around and go back to Toronto—"

  I shook my head. "No, it's fine. I'm glad to be here. Plus, I really want to see my mom and dad. I can't wait to introduce them to my wonderful new boyfriend."

  "And since he couldn't make it, what will they think of me?"

  I eyed him. "Was that a joke?"

  "An attempt."

  One thing Thierry didn't really possess was a funny bone. I'd searched. I'd found nothing. But it was sweet of him to try.

  We were to check into the motel and then go for a superquick visit with my parents, who didn't know their only child was a vampire, and I'd prefer it stayed that way. What they didn't know wouldn't hurt them. Or me.

  Then tonight we'd go to the reunion dance. There had actually been a couple of days of reunion-related activities, but too much of a good thing is not good at all. It was the dance, a little schmoozing, and then it was over, and ideally I'd get rid of this vampire-related funk I was going through and feel better about life, liberty, and the pursuit of vampiric happiness.

  Mom had offered to let us to stay with them in my old bedroom—even though she'd made it clear that she didn't approve of us sharing the same room out of wedlock (her words)—but I decided that a motel room would be the best option for all involved.

  The motel was the only one in town, the Abottsville Motor Inn with an adjoining restaurant called the Breakfast Nook. It was just as classy as it sounded.

  The room itself was what the management considered a "luxury suite" and did boast a king-sized bed underneath an oh-so-elegant ceiling mirror. I normally would have found that terribly amusing, especially with the irony that vamps didn't have reflections, but instead it just seemed embarrassing.

  Once the supreme tackiness had settled in, I hung the dress I'd borrowed from Amy in the closet, threw my overnight bag in the corner, and checked the bedsheets for any potential cockroach infestations. Then I had a quick shower and freshened up my makeup using my shard compact mirror, which Thierry had bought me as an early Valentine's Day gift. Vampires didn't normally have reflections, but a shard wasn't a regular mirror. It was very special and very expensive and I could see myself just fine and dandy in it. I had a bigger one on the wall at George's house, but it wasn't exactly portable.

  Thierry waited for me as I finished up. I'd decided for casual comfort by wearing dark blue jeans and a fuzzy white sweater under my winter coat.

  Then we headed across town. It only took five minutes before I could see my parents' house looming large on the horizon at the end of a cul-de-sac. I frowned. The driveway was full of cars. This was supposed to be a short visit with just my mom and dad. Who else had they invited?

  Thierry pulled the Audi alongside the curb and gave me a look. "What is going on, Sarah?"

  I got out of the car and felt the cold winter breeze on my face. A few flakes of snow were falling. "No idea. But I promise it won't take long. We go in. I introduce you. They will be suitably impressed by your charm and good looks. I down a glass of wine and we are out of there in ten minutes."

  He raised an eyebrow as he looked skeptically at all the cars. "Ten minutes?"

  "Fifteen at the very most. We don't have that much time before we have to be at the reunion, anyhow." I eyed the front lawn and the collection of winter decorations that included a family of reindeer that lit up at night and a big inflatable snowman. "And no mention of my staking. I don't think my mother would take too well to knowing that I almost died. Especially after what happened to my apartment."

  Since my parents didn't know about the vampire thing, I'd blamed the explosion on a gas leak and that I was staying with a friend until I found somewhere more permanent. My parents had freaked out, of course, and insisted I move back home with them until I could piece my life back together.

  I was still piecing. But I wasn't planning on moving back into my old bedroom, still decorated with Madonna and Bon Jovi posters. Not going to happen.

  Thierry hadn't asked me to move in with him yet. Despite everything going rather well between us lately, it did make me feel a little uneasy about the future.

  No dwelling. Dwelling would be bad.

  "Why would I tell her you were staked when she doesn't know that you are a vampire?" he asked as we walked toward the front door, decorated with a big-ass wreath.

  "Semantics," I said. I reached for the doorbell, but Thierry stopped me with a hand on my arm.

  "Sarah, I know you are weary of my mentioning this, but every time we leave Toronto and go outside of our comfort zones we are putting ourselves in grave danger. Even here."

  "I know." More than ever, I knew that. My chest still hurt like a stake-shaped elephant had sat on it. It hurt a little to breathe. Even vampires enjoyed breathing regularly, so it was a bit annoying. But I was there, I was going to make the most of it, and everything would be just fine. Or else.

  I reached for the doorbell, but the door swung open before I got to it.

  "Sweetie!" My mother's arms were open she gave me a big, warm hug. "I'm so glad to see you!"

  "You too, Mom." I smiled. She smelled like freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. "So who's here?"

  She looked vaguely guilty. "Well, honey, you visit so rarely that I thought I should make the most of this opportunity. A few of your aunts, uncles, cousins. I tried not to make a big to-do out of it."

  A family reunion. In ten minutes?

  "Great," I said with as much enthusiasm as I could muster.

  Thierry stood next to me silently. I disengaged from my mother and glanced at him.

  "Mom, I'd like you to meet Thierry."

  Her gaze traveled politely up his six-foot-tall frame to a face that would make any woman—no matter her age—feel a bit weak in the knees. He had that effect. As evidenced by Amy's newfound crush, that his cool and stoic temperament might rub some people the wrong way didn't mean he was hard on the eyes.

  "A pleasure," he said.

  "What is your last name, Thierry?" she asked.

  "It is… de Bennicoeur."

  "Goodnes
s, that's quite a mouthful isn't it? What is that, French? Italian?"

  "It's French."

  "French Canadian? Are you from Quebec?"

  "No."

  She blinked and smoothed her dark hair in place on the side of her head. I recognized it as a nervous habit. "You don't have an accent."

  "I came to North America a very long time ago."

  "But you speak French?"

  "Yes, I speak several languages."

  "Yes, well." She shuffled back a few steps. "Please, leave your shoes right there"—she nodded at a large pile of muddy and snowy footwear—"and come in and join the rest of us. Care for a glass of wine?"

  "Yum," I said halfheartedly. Why had that greeting felt like the most awkward thing I'd ever witnessed? And mostly on Thierry's part.

  He didn't feel comfortable here. It was obvious.

  "We can leave," I whispered to him as we moved along the short hallway to the family room.

  He shook his head and squeezed my hand in his. "It's fine. It's an honor to meet your family, Sarah."

  He was so earning the brownie points today.

  In the family room we were both given a nice large glass of Baby Duck sparkling wine—a Dearly family favorite—and Thierry was introduced to every relative of mine who lived within a hundred-mile radius. Three uncles, five aunts, seven cousins… including my cousin Missy, who made a beeline toward me at first sight.

  "Sarah!" She gave me a huge, smothering hug. "Oh, my God, it is so great to see you."

  "You, too." I gave her a close-mouthed smile. "How's married life treating you?"

  "Fantastic… or should I say fangtastic? Could not be better."

  I glanced over in the corner to see her new husband, Richard, in a heated discussion with my uncle Charlie. I assumed it had something to do with fishing, since that was Uncle Charlie's favorite subject. Richard wearily raised a glass in my direction and flashed a quick smile at me that revealed his small fangs.

  My very human cousin Missy had married a vampire. He was also an accountant. I'd been at their wedding—one of the bridesmaids, in fact—when I realized that Richard and I had more in common than simply knowing Missy. That's when I realized that vampires, while keeping their existences secret, were more prevalent in everyday society that I'd ever imagined. That was also when Missy discovered my little secret—and she'd been more than okay with the discovery that I was a vampire than I was.

  I shuddered slightly at the memory of that fateful wedding. Bad, bad dress.

  "Who's the hunk?" Missy asked, nodding at Thierry.

  I told her. As briefly as I could. She seemed suitably impressed that I'd landed a master vampire. I didn't share with her the fact he had already been previously landed by another woman.

  "Listen," she said. "I wanted to tell you and I'm hoping it doesn't mean anything whatsoever, but it's about the reunion."

  "What about it?"

  "I consulted a psychic about the decorations."

  Missy, although a few years older than me and not attending the reunion tonight, was on the reunion organizing committee. It was a yearly thing and it kept her busy.

  "You consulted a psychic about the reunion decorations?" I repeated it to make sure I'd heard her right.

  "It's hard to make a gymnasium look like a fairy-tale castle. A little help goes a long way."

  "I'm sure that it does." I took a sip of my wine. "And what did she have to say?"

  "She said that a beautiful varnish wouldn't change the darkness that lurks inside" She swallowed hard. "I have no idea what she meant by that. Her eyes went all white and weird and then she snapped back to normal and didn't even remember what she said at all."

  "White eyeballs? That is weird."

  She chewed her bottom lip. "Do me a favor and be careful tonight. Madame Chiquita is apparently extremely accurate."

  "I promise to be on the lookout for any dark, lurking varnish." Great. White-eyeballed psychics were giving unpleasant predictions about the reunion. Or maybe Missy was just paranoid.

  That made two of us.

  "Missy!" Richard called. "Uncle Charlie wants to plan a fishing trip with me. Can you come over here, please?"

  She grinned at me. "Duty calls."

  I turned away, wondering how much money Missy had been charged by her reunion psychic, and realized my father was standing directly behind me.

  "Hey, Dad." I smiled without showing my fangs and gave him a hug. "Great to see you."

  My chest gave out a weak twinge of pain and I had a quick and unexpected flashback of the stake being in my chest.

  Just relax, I told myself. Act normal You're normal. Everything is fine.

  My father eyed Thierry, who, across the room, seemed to be having an awkward conversation following a rather tight hug from my aunt Mildred.

  "Who is this fellow, anyhow?" he asked. "You've never mentioned him before. What happened to George? I thought you two were engaged?"

  Long story. A case of mistaken identity at Missy's wedding. Hilarity ensued. Ancient history.

  I cleared my throat. "I'm with Thierry now. I'm sure you'll love him."

  "He doesn't seem your type."

  "Oh, he is my type. Trust me."

  "Where's he from?"

  "Toronto mostly."

  "What does he do for a living?"

  "Uh… he owns a nightclub."

  He gave me a look that informed me that he didn't consider that a worthy or respectable occupation. Until five years ago when he retired, my father was on the Abottsville police force. He was well known for his excellent interrogation skills.

  "How old is he?"

  I swallowed. "He's thirty-six. Just turned."

  "Eight years older than you? That is a significant age difference, Sarah."

  Right. If only he knew the truth. "It doesn't make a difference to me."

  "He's wearing a very expensive suit. He has money?"

  "Sure." I gulped another mouthful of wine.

  "Have you gotten another full-time job yet?"

  "Um, no, not yet."

  "So are you saying that this new rich boyfriend of yours is supporting you?"

  "More wine, please!" I hollered. My mother came by and topped off my glass.

  My father's expression softened a bit and he put his hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry if it seems that I'm being judgmental, but I only care about what's best for my little girl." His eyes narrowed and he took another look at the suspect in question. "I get a strange vibe from him. Like there's something off. But you say you're happy with him?"

  "Ecstatically so."

  He looked at me sternly. "What is the rule about sarcasm in this house?"

  "Only on Saturdays?"

  "Sarah—"

  "Look, Dad, what do you want me to say? I'm in love with Thierry. I wanted you and Mom to meet him. He's really great."

  He nodded and watched my mother tentatively approach Thierry and a couple of aunts to see if they wanted some cheese and crackers. The aunts went for it. Thierry declined.

  "Are you planning on getting engaged?" he asked.

  I choked a little on my latest sip of sparkling wine. "Not in the immediate future."

  He frowned. "Why not? Doesn't he want to commit?"

  "Look, can we lay off the twenty questions already and talk about something else?"

  My mother approached with the tray of cheese and crackers. "Talk about what?"

  "Sarah and Thierry have no plans of committing to each other," my father commented. "Perhaps he's not the marrying kind."

  My mother looked distraught. "But, Sarah, why waste your time with someone who doesn't want to marry you? You're still young, but time is a fleeting thing. You know what they say about the cow and the milk, don't you?"

  "Mom—"

  "You're not giving away free milk, are you, honey?"

  I sighed heavily. "What is marriage? I mean, seriously. It's just a piece of paper. Or, possibly, a chiseled ancient tablet of some kind or however they did
it back in the fourteenth century. It doesn't mean anything. I like things just the way they are."

  "But you always dreamed of a perfect wedding," my mother persisted. "With a white dress and a long veil and doves released at the end of the ceremony!"

  "Dreams can change," I said. And I meant it, too.

  "I think I know what's going on here." My father's arms were crossed. "He's a married man, isn't he?"

  My eyes widened. Damn, he was a good cop.

  Mom gasped and held a hand up to her mouth. "No! He's married? To another woman? Sarah, what on earth are you thinking?"

  Instead of throwing up on the pale green wall-to-wall carpeting, which was my first inclination, I glanced over to where Thierry was surrounded by the aunt entourage. They'd popped a tape into the VCR and were taking the liberty of showing him my secret shame, aka the only commercial I'd done when I'd been an aspiring actress. I hadn't even known it was still in existence.

  "Feel fresh as the morning dew," the twenty-year-old me (with much longer hair) said with a big, bright, and shiny smile. "With Daisy Fresh personal deodorant maxi-pads you'll never worry about not being as fabulous as you can possibly be!"

  Obviously things could not get any worse than they already were.

  I turned back and fixed my parents with a steady look. "Hey, guess what? I'm a vampire."

  They frowned.

  "What did you say, dear?" my mother asked.

  "I'm a vampire. It happened a couple of months ago. So, I won't be aging anymore. I'm immortal. I've come home to go to my reunion so I have a chance to feel happy and normal again. Still waiting. I just thought you'd like to know."

  "You're a vampire," my father repeated.

  I rubbed my stake wound absently. "That's right."

  He shook his head. "And you think that this is some sort of excuse for taking part in a shameful, adulterous relationship?"

  My mother sniffed and drew a Kleenex out of her shirt sleeve. "My little girl. My poor little girl!"

  I blinked. "Didn't you hear the part about me being a vampire?"

  "Yes, and we're ignoring that. Obviously you are wracked with guilt over these life choices and it's making you delusional." My father sighed heavily. "I really think you should move back here for a while. Get your head straight."