Page 16 of What Happened on Roslyn Street? (Strode University #1)

Chapter Eleven

I ’m making too many mistakes. First? I ask for an adventure. Second? I do it when Margaux isn’t there to watch me. There’s no saying what kind of adventure he’ll take me on.

Caldwell is a vampire, and he doesn’t know I’m a human. What if he invites me to something I can’t survive?

I contemplate texting my friend—whether to request her presence or to let her know where I’ll be…

Something stops me from sending it. It may be the fear that she’ll blow my cover, no matter how subtle she tries to be. There’s an equal chance she’ll tell me not to go at all, and I can’t risk that.

Whether I’ll live through it is another question, but the stake strapped to my thigh is enough security… I hope. Everything I wear belongs to Margaux: the little black dress, the heels, the red lipstick, and the holster keeping my stake in place.

She may kill me for taking them without permission, but that’s only if someone else doesn’t do it first.

I don’t feel like myself as I answer the door, and that’s what I need. For one evening, I can step into someone else’s shoes and pull this thing off. I can be Margaux—daring, charismatic, the one everyone wants.

There’s a defiance about me, an unshakable determination, as I step through the doorway.

The door clicks shut, and I let my eyes wander over him. At first, I can’t put my finger on the change. Then I realize his glasses are gone, as is the usual coat he wears.

His shirt swoops into a V at his chest, and the sleeves are short enough that I can see the lean muscles of his arms. For the first time, I realize how strong he is.

Typical vampire. It’s unimpressive.

I force myself to meet his gaze, holding my head higher. “Where are you taking me?”

He lifts a brow. “You asked for an adventure. It wouldn’t be adventurous to give it away so easily, would it?”

“Maybe not.”

“Then…” He gestures vaguely, stepping away. “Come along.”

My heart thumps with every step I take. The nerves of a date tangle with the fear of being with someone who may have ties to the campus mystery.

Am I supposed to hold his hand? Touch his arm? Margaux would know what to do.

I overthink it until we’re outside. Finally, my fingers reach to brush against his. For a moment, it seems he doesn’t know what to do either—tensing under the slight touch. Then, his fingers slot into mine, holding onto me as if it had never been a question.

I’m holding hands with Caldwell, and… why does it make me feel dizzy?

“We are going off campus this time,” he says. “I’ll tell you that much. ”

“Oh?” My pulse skyrockets. “How far off campus?”

“Do you trust me?”

No!

“Of course, I do.” I give him a saccharine smile.

My answer seems to satisfy him, nodding as he leads me to a car—not his car, it seems, but a ride that’s waiting for us.

“We won’t go far,” he says, opening the back door.

His answer does nothing to soothe me as we slide into the vehicle. Everything about the situation is perfectly normal, which is what makes it so odd.

I glance at his phone to see what he’s looking at—Lyft. That may be typical for some adventures, but it isn’t what I had in mind for an escapade with Caldwell.

I expect a dark car whisking me off, not us huddling in the back of a Honda.

At least the driver will know where I am, though I doubt he cares. The gentleman in the front seat is older, with tired eyes, and he doesn’t so much as greet us.

“Let me know if you have trouble finding the location,” Caldwell says. “It’s a little off the beaten path.”

The man nods and says nothing else.

An oldies song plays through the shitty speakers. I remember it vaguely, but it doesn’t matter. The thump of my heart is louder than Paradise By the Dashboard Light .

I’m doing this for Poppy. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Poppy. For her, the fear of the unknown is worth it.

Fifteen minutes later, the driver pulls up to a large house—one within the limits of Castine, but not one I’ve been to before.

Caldwell moves to my side of the car, popping the door open and offering a hand.

“I thought this place was abandoned,” I mutter, taking the outstretched hand.

“Did you?” His lips twist—an urge to smile that he continues to fight off.

“I did. My parents always told me not to come here…”

“That was wise of them.”

My fingers slip out of his, worried he’ll feel my sweaty palms. He’s taking me to a creepy house, one he won’t confirm is abandoned. Everything about this—about him—is bad news. There’s nothing to do except follow him inside, fighting against my instincts as he leads me.

“You really won’t tell me what we’re doing?” I whisper, my heels clicking against the cracked pavement.

“You’ll see.” He pushes the door open. “You aren’t very patient, are you?”

Noises flow from the dark space—music, laughter, and chatter. We aren’t alone. I don’t know whether to be relieved or terrified.

“No,” I say. “I can’t say I am.”

“Surprising, considering that you left my texts on read for three days.”

“Was it three days?”

“It was.” He gestures ahead of us. “Go on. You first.”

He’s throwing me into the pit, and I don’t know if I’ll return. I itch to reach for my phone and text Margaux, fighting the nagging feeling that I need backup.

It’s too late. I step inside, looking around as the door closes behind me with a click.

Caldwell’s presence is heavy and prominent. His hand rests on the small of my back.

“Well?” He bends low, the words whispered into my ear. “What do you think?”

The scene in front of me is lavish—reminiscent of an old jazz club, though the music is modern. The attendees wear their finest, draped in jewels and nursing glasses of liquor.

The music is softer than in a typical nightclub, so low that people can still speak. The dull hum of communication thrums through the room.

“I—” I’m at a loss for words, still uncertain of what I’m looking at. I recognize a few faces—students I’ve seen around campus.

“It’s a club,” he says softly, answering my question without me asking. “But if this isn’t your idea of an adventure, we can go somewhere else. I have a few backup plans.”

I’ve been to clubs before, but this is different—a club full of vampires who likely have blood in their glasses. Vampires who want to have their fangs at my neck—or maybe that’s too presumptuous. There’s always a chance my blood isn’t their type.

I can’t leave. Uncovering new supernatural spots is useful. This place may be related to the murders. What if the murderer comes here to find their victims? What if the murderer is in this room? I have no proof that it’s Caldwell, but if it is…

Margaux and I have a new place to snoop on him.

“No,” I say smoothly, turning to offer a smile. “This is exactly what I need after a stressful first week.”

“Are you sure?”

I summon what remains of my courage. In a fluid motion, I push myself closer, my hand surprisingly steady as I rest it on his chest.

“You’ll keep me safe,” I say. “Won’t you?”

The stake at my thigh will keep me safer than he ever could.

“I will,” he says, without hesitation. “ Though a strong werecat like you should have no trouble feeling safe here. You’ll fit right in.”

Right. Werecat.

“Is everyone here a vampire?” My smile is more of a grimace as he takes my hand and pulls me through the crowd.

“Anyone from our world is welcome… and you’ll find a few human companions as well.”

“Ah…” Like me.

Like Poppy before she was killed?

“Let us start with a drink,” he says, stopping near a makeshift bar. “Any requests?”

I scan the area with curiosity, my shoulders lifting. “What about an… old fashioned? That seems to fit the theme.”

He leans in closer, his half-smile appearing once more. “Are you mocking the age of the vampires?” He clicks his tongue. “Or perhaps the demons? That is very bold of you.”

“No!” But I am, and it shows in the way I laugh.

“Don’t let them hear you,” he says, “or I may actually have something to protect you from tonight.”

“How am I supposed to control that? They hear everything! ”

“You enjoy pushing your luck, don’t you?”

I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.

I won’t dignify the question with an answer, narrowing my eyes. “Where is my drink, Caldwell?”

“Ah, yes. Your streak of impatience continues.” He leans across the bar, speaking to the tall, lean demoness working behind it.

I’ve never seen a demon in this form—her horns are pink points poking out of her hair. Is it rude to stare?

“Two old fashioneds.” Caldwell holds up two fingers .

“Is that your drink of choice?” I ask.

“Am I that predictable?” He turns to face me.

“You are.” I scoff.

Everything about him is predictable. Stupid, brooding vampire. He’s uninteresting, without a unique bone in his body. It’s the same drink every other rotten vampire here is drinking, I’m sure—assuming they aren’t sipping on blood instead.

I press my lips together to keep the insults from flying free.

“So… you ordered it to impress me?” he asks.

The accusation makes my jaw drop.

“No!” Except, in a sick way, I did.

I’m impressing him for the wrong reasons; not from attraction, as he might hope, but from a need to get closer.

How close can I get before it’s game over?

“Good,” he says smoothly, taking the drinks from the bartender. He holds one out to me, eyes locked onto mine. “You don’t need to go to such lengths for me. I already find you very impressive.”

“How?”

Why am I digging for compliments from someone I don’t like or respect?

He laughs—an actual laugh, warm like a fireplace, loud enough to carry over the hum of the room. His eyes crinkle, head shaking as he peers down at me.

“What do you mean? You’re witty, intelligent, studious… and you’re oh-so-challenging. Anyone would be impressed by you.”

“Is that why you like me? Am I a challenge to you?”

I don’t care; I need to remind myself of that, but there will always be a weak part of me. I’m no better than anyone else. An attractive person is giving me attention, and I’m not allowed to want it. I have greater things to worry about.