Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116618 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116618 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
“They’re good. My mom found a new recipe and my dad will depressed until baseball begins.”
Just then Abe enters the kitchen, dressed in his usual immaculate fashion despite the early hour. “Good morning, lovebirds,” he greets, heading straight for the coffee. “House hunting again, I see.”
“You trying to get rid of us, Doc?” I ask, only half-joking.
He waves a dismissive hand. “My home is your home for as long as you need it. But I know how young couples value their privacy.” The twinkle in his eye suggests he’s heard more than enough of our nocturnal activities over the past weeks.
“Any news on Cohen?” Lena asks, mercifully changing the subject.
Abe’s expression grows more serious. “Nothing concrete. He’s keeping a low profile since the warehouse fire made the papers. Naturally it belonged to him. The official story about a gang dispute seems to have satisfied the authorities, but Mickey’s not taking chances.”
“Is he still looking for us?” I ask.
“For you two specifically? I doubt it.” Abe pours himself coffee, leaning against the counter. “He knows Marco isn’t coming back. But my sources say he’s afraid, though he’d never admit it. Too many of his men have disappeared. Too many questions without answers.”
“Good,” Lena says with quiet intensity. “Let him be afraid.”
I squeeze her hand, understanding the sentiment. Cohen had been complicit in the Ivanovs’ plans, whether he fully understood them or not. His organization had provided cover for their activities, facilitated their rituals, helped procure their victims. Elizabeth Short would likely still be alive if not for that unholy alliance.
“He’ll slip up eventually,” I say. “Men like Cohen always do.”
“And we’ll be waiting when he does,” Lena adds, her expression hardening momentarily before softening as she looks at me. “But first, we have a life to build.”
The simple declaration warms me in ways I’m still learning to accept. A life. Together. It seems impossible, yet here we are, planning for a future neither of us could have imagined months ago.
“Speaking of building,” Abe interjects, refilling his cup, “have you given any thought to your professional situation?”
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “The PI business is viable, though clients are scarce at the moment. Coleman’s kept my name out of official reports, but rumors spread in this town. Besides, according to the public, the Black Dahlia killer is still at large. I look like a bum who can’t solve anything.”
“And I’m not exactly rushing back to singing at mob clubs,” Lena adds dryly.
“Perhaps a change of direction for both of you,” Abe suggests, his tone deliberately casual. “Your combined skills could be quite valuable in certain circles.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Vampire detective agency? Solving supernatural crimes?”
Abe chuckles. “Not quite so dramatic, though not entirely off base. Our kind sometimes requires…discreet intervention in human affairs. Traces that need erasing, situations that need managing.”
“Vampire fixers,” Lena translates, a hint of amusement in her voice.
“If you like,” Abe concedes with a shrug. “It’s work that requires your investigative experience, Callahan, and Lena’s connections in the entertainment world. Plus the unique abilities you both possess.”
The proposition is intriguing. After decades of investigating human crimes, the prospect of applying those same skills to vampire concerns offers a certain poetic symmetry. And working alongside Lena rather than worrying about her safety at Cohen’s club appeals on multiple levels.
“We’ll think about it,” I tell him, exchanging a look with Lena that confirms her interest as well.
Our conversation is interrupted by a sharp knock at the front door. We all freeze, immediately alert. Abe’s colony is warded against uninvited visitors, its location known to only a handful of trusted vampires.
“Expecting company?” I ask quietly, already moving to position myself between the door and Lena.
Abe shakes his head, setting down his coffee cup. “Stay here,” he instructs, moving with preternatural grace toward the front of the house.
Lena and I ignore him, of course, following at a cautious distance. I can feel my senses sharpening, preparing for potential threat.
Abe pauses at the front door, clearly sensing who waits on the other side. His posture relaxes slightly, though wariness remains in his stance.
“Curious,” he murmurs, before pulling the door open.
Konstantin stands on the threshold, hands in the pockets of an impeccably tailored white suit and hat, his strange purple-gray eyes surveying us with calm assessment. He looks exactly as he did the day he attacked us at the warehouse—lean, dangerous, with a face I want to punch. Again.
A growl builds in my chest, vampire instincts surging to the forefront. Lena tenses beside me, her hand finding mine in silent solidarity.
“Van Helsing,” Konstantin greets with a slight nod. “Callahan. Ms. Reid. May I come in?”
“That depends entirely on your purpose here,” Abe replies coolly. “The last time we met, you were trying to kill my friends.”
Konstantin shrugs, the gesture oddly elegant. “Professional obligations. Nothing personal.” His gaze shifts to me. “You fought well, by the way. Few newborns could have matched me as you did.”