Page 9 of Vampire so Virtuous (Boston Vampires #1)

Milton, Massachusetts, Present day.

The house never changed. Spring, summer, fall; neat lawns, clean porch, white walls.

She walked up the path and rang the doorbell.

Footsteps sounded inside, the door swinging open soon after. “Cally?”

The fine mesh of the screen blurred his features, but his growing smile was unmistakable.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hey! This is a surprise!”

“Yeah. Sorry. I should’ve called.”

“Not at all, not at all.” He pushed the screen door aside. “Forgot your key?”

“No, I’ve got it, but didn’t want to walk in unannounced and scare the crap out of you.”

He scratched the back of his neck. “If I’d known you were coming, I would’ve gotten dressed.”

“T-shirt and sweatpants are perfectly fine, Dad. You’re rockin’ it.”

“A hug for your old man, then?”

She smiled and stepped into his arms. He wrapped her tightly in a familiar embrace, the kind that always felt safe, even through her guilt. He held her close, squeezing her as though to emphasize how much time had passed since her last visit. It made her feel selfish for staying away so long.

Cally pulled back, searching his face. “You all right, Dad?”

“All good,” he said easily, but his eyes held a shadow hinting at the lie behind his words.

Cally held up the plastic bag she carried. “Harpoon IPA? Not cold, I’m afraid.”

“I have some in the fridge. Let’s drink mine and pretend they’re yours.”

He led her into the house, and it was the same as ever inside, too. Except…

“New key bowl?” Beside the plant pot on the hallway table sat a dark wooden dish holding his keys, replacing the blue-and-white china one. The only change she could see.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. The other one cracked a couple of months ago.”

Another reminder of how long it had been.

“That happens when you keep throwing your keys into it.”

She followed him through into the kitchen and sat on her usual stool at the breakfast bar.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, addressing the contents of the fridge as he pulled out the beers. It didn’t look like there was much inside.

“Are you having something?”

“I was thinking about a bacon sandwich.” He slid a can across the counter toward her.

Cally caught it and cracked it open. “Go for it, but I’ll pass, thanks.”

“Oh, shit. You still vegetarian?”

“Afraid so.”

“I never figured it would stick, you know. I had to learn a bunch of new recipes.”

“It did you good to diversify.”

“Are you sure a bacon sandwich won’t cure you?”

Cally gave him a flat look. “Do you know how old that joke is?”

He grinned and peered through the fridge. “I have some cheese?”

“I’m good with the beer, thanks.”

He closed the fridge and cracked his own beer, leaving the bacon behind. “It’s good to see you,” he said, proffering his can.

Cally tapped it with hers. “Good to see you too.”

They both took a drink; the cold, hoppy taste as familiar as everything else.

“What brings you out here?”

“I have to have a reason to visit my dad?”

“No, but I’m betting you do. Everything all right?”

Cally hesitated, then took another sip of her beer. He waited patiently, leaning one elbow on the breakfast bar. “Shall we take these drinks into the living room?”

“Sure,” he said, straightening. “Want a glass?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

He walked around the counter to his easy chair, picking up the remote from the arm and killing the TV. He flopped down as she took a seat on the couch, swung his legs onto the footrest, and swiveled to face her.

“Training going okay? ”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s going good.”

“Work all right?”

“Fine. Finished a project recently and now have too much time on my hands.”

He grimaced. “Easier when you’re busy, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Love life okay? How’s Rob?”

“That was over five months ago, Dad. I told you at the time.”

“Oh shit, yeah. Sorry, honey.” He looked apologetic. “Someone new?”

Him and Eve both? Well, it was only because they cared. “Happily single.”

He held up a hand in mock surrender. “A father’s duty to pry, sweetheart.”

“How about you, then? How’s your love life?”

“All right, point made.”

That wasn’t an answer, but she let it slide. She already knew there wasn’t one.

“So if it’s not your work, your taekwondo, or your love life, what’s eating you?”

She tilted her head. “What makes you think something is?”

“One, it’s a Monday, so whatever it is must be urgent. Two, you’re jumpy. Three, you didn’t answer when I asked you earlier.” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

Cally laughed. “You got me. There have been a couple of things, lately.” She sobered. “Dad, can I ask you about Mom?”

He stiffened briefly, then forced himself to relax. “Of course, sweetheart. What do you want to know?”

“This is going to sound weird, but…” Cally took a breath. “She never expressed interest in the occult, did she?”

“Your mom?” Dad laughed. “I haven’t thought of that in years. Sure she did.”

Cally’s throat clenched, and she swallowed hard. “She did?”

“Yeah. She was part of a Wiccan coven when I met her at MIT.”

“She was?” Cally asked, her voice small, blood thumping in her ears.

“It was all the rage back then. She dragged me around all the museums.”

“Wait. You got involved?”

“Only on the fringes. I’ve forgotten most of what I knew about Boston’s neopaganism and occult heritage.”

It was like talking to Eve again. “But Mom was into it in a big way? ”

“Pretty big, yeah,” he said. “Why are you asking about this? I’ve never known you to be interested in history, just math and science.”

“A friend of mine introduced me to a group of amateur witches,” Cally said evasively.

“Coven.”

“What?”

“It’s called a coven.”

“Oh. Yeah, I know that.” Cally was still reeling from the confirmation her mother had been a practicing witch, like Eve had suspected. Maybe there was some truth to the blood thing? “Did you ever see her, you know, do spells?”

“Men don’t get invited to covens.”

“No, I suppose not.” Cally frowned. “Do you know any of the others? The witches in her coven at the time? Any I could contact?”

“Not that I can think of,” he said. “Why would you want to?”

“Just to see what they knew of her magic.”

“You mean, like her rituals and spells and stuff?” He blinked, a faint shift in his posture betraying his surprise. “Why would you be interested in that?”

“Oh, asking for a friend. You remember Eve, right?”

“Of course,” he said. “How’s she doing?”

“She’s good. Still weird.” Cally took a sip of her beer. “So, do you know anything about the spells Mom could do?”

“Do?” He studied her. “You know it’s not actual magic, right? It’s not real .”

“Oh. Yeah, of course not.” Cally’s pulse wasn’t thudding anymore. Her heart felt like it was hardly beating.

“I don’t think she got much into that. Her interest was social, mostly. Feminism. Some appeal of the occult. Amateur hobbyist, I guess you’d call her.” He smiled. “The only magic your mom did was in her cooking.”

“You mean that figuratively too, right?” Then, at her dad’s expression, added in a mutter, “Just checking.”

“If you’re interested,” he said, his expression softening, “I’m pretty sure some of her Wicca paraphernalia is in the attic. I don’t know what’s there, or what state it’s in, but…?”

“Yeah,” Cally said eagerly. “Yeah, that would be great.” Even if there was nothing to find about her magic, it would still be amazing to look through her mom’s things—especially that part of her life. “How much of her stuff is there?”

Her dad smiled whimsically. “Quite a lot.”

*

“I brought you coffee,” her dad announced, climbing the steps into the attic with two steaming cups in his hands.

“Lifesaver.” Cally knelt back on her heels and eased her spine. “There’s more stuff up here than I ever imagined.”

“Well, I didn’t want to throw it out.” He handed her a cup, then sat on a box, casting his eyes over the contents she’d laid out on the thin carpet. “Find anything interesting?”

“Interesting? Loads. Useful? Not so much.” She smiled fondly at some of what she’d uncovered—yearbooks, graduation photos, mix tapes on old cassettes, a stack of letters. The concert tickets she’d found caught her eye. “You guys saw Bob Dylan?”

“Yeah. That takes me back. We both got so drunk.”

“And why does she have an MIT hoodie in a man’s size?”

“It’s mine.” He smiled, full of nostalgia. “She wore it more than I did.” He glanced around. “Yours is in one of these boxes somewhere.”

Cally carefully set her coffee down, away from her mother’s things strewn across the floor, then held up a Kodak packet of photos. “SCUBA diving? I didn’t know you could SCUBA.”

“Haven’t been in years.”

Twenty-six years , Cally filled in. It had just been the two of them for so long. “We could’ve gone together.”

He shook his head. “I’ve forgotten how.” Or maybe he didn’t want to with anyone else.

Cally opened the packet again, flicking through to the photo she’d seen before, and pulled it out. “You guys were cute. But that bikini is scandalous.”

He pushed off the box and walked over, taking the photo from her and stared at it. “Looks fine to me,” he said, straight-faced, and slid the photo carefully into the pocket of his sweatpants.

Cally grinned. “Not much Wicca stuff, in the end. Some books.” She nodded to another pile. “There’s a first edition of The Spiral Dance Eve would love, if you think Mom wouldn’t mind?”

“Take what you want, honey. Your mom would be delighted.”

“Some copies of The Beltane Papers from that era?”

“Sure. I’m never going to do anything with this stuff.”

Cally pushed herself up, collecting her coffee on the way. “I could spend ages here, but I think I’ve found all I’m going to find.” Not much. Next to nothing, really. Just more guilt .

“Come back anytime you like. Want my help tidying up?”

“No, it’s good. I can do it.”

“All right. Staying for dinner?”

“Sure, Dad. Sounds great.”

“Wonderful.” The earlier shadow in his eyes had faded.

Cally watched him take the steps down, wondering, as she often did, why he’d never remarried. She could only imagine how lonely he must have been.

“Sorry, Dad,” she said to herself. “Once a month, minimum, from now on. And that’s a promise.”

*

“You’ve not eaten much. Was it terrible?”

“It was good, Dad. Really. I’m just not hungry.”

“I’m out of practice cooking vegetarian food.”

Cally rose from her chair, collecting the dishes.

“Leave it,” he said lazily. “I’ll do it later.”

“Easier with two.”

It didn’t take long to clear the table, and he loaded the dishwasher while she cleaned up the kitchen.

“Glass of wine?” he offered.

“I better not. Driving back.”

“Oh? You finally bought a car?”

“Zipcar, Dad.”

“Ah.” He said. “You could stay over if you want. Your room’s always ready.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Another pang tore through her. Of course he kept her room ready; he had no one else.

“What is it, sweetheart?” He frowned with concern.

She blinked back the tears that had formed. “I’m so sorry, Daddy.”

His frown deepened. “What for?”

“For Mom.” He’d tensed again, but she plowed on, tears threatening to overspill. “I never said sorry. I took her from you, and ever since, you’ve been—”

“Stop right there, Cally,” he said firmly. “Where has this come from?”

“I know the truth. I’ve known for a few years.”

“ What truth?”

“You told me she passed away not long after I was born.”

“She did.” He frowned, clearly wondering what she was implying .

“That makes sense for a father to tell a young child, but it’s not so simple, is it? When I turned eighteen, I looked up her death certificate.”

His eyes widened.

Cally blinked quickly, trying to hold back the tears. “She died because of me, Daddy.”

“No. No she did not . Is this what you’ve been thinking?

All these years?” He took her hand. “Your mother loved you very much. She had a medical emergency, and despite everything the doctors did, she left us too soon.” He gave her hand a squeeze.

“But it was no one’s fault, Cally, least of all yours. ”

“Complications of childbirth,” she said bitterly, dashing her sleeve across her eyes. “Hypovolemic shock secondary to postpartum hemorrhage.” She could remember reading every word, like it was yesterday.

“Stop,” he said. “Just stop. You were a baby , for God’s sake. This is life , Cally. It happens every day. You’re no more to blame than I was. Less, in fact. At least you were there.”

She blinked. “You weren’t there?” He’d never told her that.

“Your mother’s due date wasn’t for another week.

I had a business trip. I didn’t want to go, but she was as stubborn as you.

I turned around as soon as I heard, but I didn’t make it back in time.

” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I should’ve anticipated you’d see it like this.

” His voice grew firmer. “Listen, Cally. Your mother loved you as soon as she knew you were on the way, and she got to see you before she died. It was a tragedy, but it was twenty-six years ago. And we’ve been happy, haven’t we? ”

He was right. Mostly. “Yeah, we’ve been happy. But you seem so lonely. You always said Mom was your only love, but I know the real reason.”

“Uh-huh?”

“You did it for me.”

“No.” He shook his head. “You’re dead wrong on that one, too.” He gave a mock-exasperated sigh. “How long have you been thinking all this? No wonder you’re so screwed up.”

“ Dad! I am not!”

He cracked a smile, then sobered. “The truth is, after your mom, I didn’t want anyone else in our lives. But it wasn’t just about you, it was about me too. I’m a selfish, grumpy old bastard, and I like my space.”

Grumpy was so far from the truth that she laughed. He’d always been able to make her feel better. “No, you’re not.”

“I do like my space though.”

“Mmm. But companionship? ”

“I’m fine, okay? You don’t have to worry about me. I have friends, I have my health, I have porn. What more does a guy need?”

“ Dad! ”

“You brought it up.”

“Maybe I’ll stay after all,” she said, needing his presence after that conversation. “How much wine have you got?”

“Do you have work in the morning?”

“No. The benefits of being a specialist. No project, no work.”

He spread his hands. “Then I have more than enough.”