Page 11 of Hot Vampire Next Door: Season Five

I grumble and only now realize my eyes have slipped closed. I open them again, fighting the heaviness. “I’m going to kill them.”

“I know you are and I will help you.”

“You sure you’re up for it?”

His eyes glow vampiric blue. “Of course I am. Just as soon as we sleep.”

I don’t think I could possibly rest until Mouse is home, but even though I’m a supernatural creature with untenable power, there is one thing I cannot fight: the exhaustion of a vampire.

I wake hours later in the backseat of the SUV, the vehicle parked securely in the Duval House garage.

It’s dark.

The seat beside me is empty.

I pop the door open and climb out and smell, over the grease and gasoline of the garage, the faint scent of cigarette smoke and freshly poured bourbon.

I find Damien in the open doorway of the garage, shoulder leaning into the frame. There is a cigarette between his knuckles, a glass clutched in his hand. He looks better than he did this morning. The rest did us both well.

He hands me the cigarette and drains his glass.

I take a hit, smoke burning in my lungs and everything, almost, feels all right.

On an exhale, I ask him, “Did Kelly wake with you?”

His gaze is on the forest behind the garage, but his attention is elsewhere. “No. The witch theorizes because Kelly is human she may need more time to recover.”

I can hear the tenor of hope in his voice, underlined by fear that perhaps the witch is wrong.

“She’ll come around,” I say.

He nods and waggles his fingers for the last of the cigarette so I pass it off. He finishes it, exhales, then crushes the embers beneath his boot. “Tell me the rest of your story,” he says, changing the subject. “How did you come to have a tarp and a phone in the park?”

I tell him about Baspin and his offer to help, and my theory that he’s a member of the Winter Court.

“Could be a trap,” Damien points out.

“Aren’t they all potential traps?”

“Yes. Do you want to call him?”

I look past my brother over the dewy grounds of Duval property. The house is to our left, and I can hear the din of conversation as the vampires wake.

“We could have an army assembled in less than twenty minutes. Do we really need to waste time playing verbal judo with a cast-off fae? He’s given us all we need—they’ll keep Jessie alive as long as she serves their purpose and I intend to get her back before then.”

Damien considers me. “You don’t want to rush into this.”

“What I want, dear brother, is to cut out hearts and tear out tongues.”

He tosses the empty bourbon glass in the air, catches it, tosses it again. A few dribbles of liquor slide down his arm. He starts pacing as he plays catch with the glass.

“You really want to go in blind?” he asks.

“Is it blind if we have a goal?”

“It is if we have no strategy.”

He’s right but I don’t care. Though to be honest, I’m surprised he’s even entertaining the idea. Maybe he hasn’t fully returned to himself. Maybe I’m getting us both into deep shit.