Enlightened (Love and Light Series) (4 page)

Loti still stood at the corner of Main and Davis when the light changed to red. She’d missed a whole cycle. “Damn it,” she mum-bled.
I’m such a space cadet.

Slapping the pedestrian walk button, she glared at the blinking red hand while tapping her fingers against her thigh as cars whisked thoughtlessly by. A chill flowed up her spine, and she shivered, snapping her out of her pity party. A rumbling motorcycle slowed at the light.
It’s too damn cold to ride.
Her own little Honda Ascot sat in the shed next to David’s BMW, unridden since she passed her motorcycle test the fall before David got sick. She hadn’t the heart or inclination to ride. It was his dream to ride to the Sturgis motorcycle rally. The Harley Fat Boy and its rider turned down Davis Street, and she cringed that the rider wore no helmet, his long braid trailing behind.

When the light changed, she crossed the street, keeping her eyes on the biker as he coasted into the space under the Rosemary and Thyme Café’s green and white awning. Bracing the bike with muscular, jean-clad legs, he worked his fingers out of his gloves. Rachel appeared between the alley gates, exclaiming in a startled way. Concerned, Loti picked up her pace. She couldn’t make out his face, or Rachel’s from this distance, but their body language didn’t speak of threat or fear—or even apprehension—just surprise.

He heaved himself off the bike, taking his time to turn the wheel at an angle and settle it on its kickstand. Rachel took a tentative step toward him, saying something, and he rumbled a response in a deep voice that matched the Fat Boy. There was a pause as the two stood there looking at each other, and Loti stopped short with anticipation. Then they embraced and blood rushed in her ears. As Rachel clung to the dark giant, her shoulder-length, blonde shag fluttered in the night breeze.

Loti’s heart sped up at the thought that her friend might be in danger. But as she picked up her pace, a strange energy bubbled up her spine to the base of her skull. She stumbled. Bending over and bracing her hands on her thighs, she inhaled a cleansing, cool gulp of air. Her eyes unfocused and—POP—there it was.
He’s not human
.
He’s vampire
. Maybe it was her building anxiety, but the bubbling in her spine morphed into sharp tingles that surged from her tailbone to the crown of her head.

Her body buzzed until the nerves shut down. Numbed and afraid, she strained to focus on the vampire holding Rachel’s face in his hands. He leaned in, his cheek brushing hers, and Rachel nodded enthusiastically. He kissed her forehead and wrapped his arms around her, again. The image blurred, and just like that, he sat on the bike, putting his gloves back on. Before Loti could figure out how he’d gotten there or how to move, the bike roared to life and sped down the street. The numbing electrical buzz faded, leaving behind painful prickles like when her leg fell asleep.

“Rachel!” she hollered.

Rachel lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the glaring streetlights, and a smile spread as she waved.

They settled at their regular table in the alleyway with the gas heater blowing warm air over them. The waiter took their drink order and they were alone, Rachel studying the menu while Loti rooted in her purse. She fished out a tube of hand cream and took her time rubbing it in, glad to have a moment to collect herself. The soothing smell of coconut and almond wafted in the air, easing some of the knots out of Loti’s shoulders and neck. Rachel lifted her clouded, hazel eyes to Loti.

“That was my uncle. I haven’t seen him in ten years,” she confessed.

“Which uncle?” Loti cocked her head. She had known Rachel since college. She had been to many Brown family gatherings over the years, but had never met an uncle who happened to be a vampire. Maybe one of them had been turned? Rachel wasn’t the type to keep secrets, not from Loti.

Rachel shook her head and waved a hand. “He’s not actually my uncle. That’s what I call him. He’s an old friend of my family’s, and I guess it was easier for my folks to call him Uncle Wolf.”

Loti snorted. “Uncle Wolf?” She started to laugh, but Rachel’s eyes narrowed. Loti lifted her hands in surrender. “I’m sorry. It struck me as odd, that’s all. I’m sorry.”

Rachel’s hurt expression sobered her fast. “No, I’m sorry. It’s just . . . I haven’t seen him in a long time, and I’m a little thrown, actually.” She paused as the waiter approached with their wine.

“Are you ready to order?” He adopted a bored smile, and Loti suppressed the urge to roll her eyes.

“I’ll have the grilled tuna with the fennel au gratin potatoes and broccoli rabe.” Rachel folded her menu and handed it to the waiter.

“The chicken tortilla soup.” Loti handed him her menu with a hard smile.

“With the house salad?”

The waiter's tone was trite, as if he anticipated her order. Loti grimaced as he crossed his forearms over the menus against his stomach. Had she gotten that predictable? After turning down his appetizer offer—to spice things up, as he put it—Loti sniffed the wine and wondered when it became fashionable, even expected, for waiters to be so petulant. She preferred the low key but attentive ministrations at the town diner. She and David used to go there every Sunday—
no, nope, not going there.

Clearing her throat, she swirled the red liquid around the glass. She sipped the shiraz, holding it in her mouth for a moment to taste the things David liked to talk about: raspberries and pepper, chocolate and espresso. She almost got it. Sighing, she set the glass on the table, fidgeting in her seat. Rachel sipped her zinfandel.

“How is it,” Loti asked.

“Good.” Rachel eyed Loti’s glass.

“Go ahead.” As Rachel tasted Loti’s wine, Loti gathered up the courage to broach the delicate subject of Uncle Wolf’s state of being.

“He’s a vampire, Rachel,” she blurted out. She crossed her legs, one booted foot twitching.

Rachel laughed, handing the glass back to Loti.

“So you knew that?” Loti said.

“He’s been a vampire for a very long time.” Rachel’s eyes twinkled as she went back to working her zinfandel.

“How long?” Loti sipped, her ears turning a pretty shade of pink.

“Mmmm, about 400 years, maybe more.” She rolled her eyes to the sky. “He was good friends with my great-great-great something grandfather,” she waved a hand around, “during the Revolutionary war. However many ‘greats’ that is.”

Rachel blew out a breath and chugged her wine, eyes darting around the alley. “I haven’t seen him in ten years, and when he left, I was upset. My folks said we needed to take a break.” She gave the empty glass a dazed look. “Because of me.” When she looked back up at Loti, her eyes were thick with tears. Loti touched Rachel’s arm in sympathy.

“It was the first few weeks of college and I was not paying attention to my classes. I was much more interested in working on a project with Wolf.” She frowned, dabbing her eyes with the cocktail napkin. “He had a theory that he could amplify a witch’s powers—don’t ask me how. We experimented.” Rachel tugged at the ends of her sleeves until the cuffs covered her hands.

She was one of the best witches Loti knew, with strong energy and incredibly good instincts, so it was no wonder her “uncle” wanted to work with her. Loti had seen her perform magic many times and was always impressed with her abilities. The most impressive time had been when she, her grandmother, Katie, and their coven mate and old friend, Patrick, scryed for any sign of magic in David’s cancer. They swept the house for black magic and found nothing, except the angry energy of the cancer, which Loti had been living with since the day he fell off the ladder. Shaking herself back to the present, she realized Rachel was struggling to say the next thing. She leaned closer.

“Whatever it is, it’s okay. It’s me.” She put the wine glass down as Rachel looked sideways at her.

“My parents weren’t just worried about my grades.” She lowered her eyes to her empty wine glass. “They were worried about what was going on between Wolf and me.”

“Were you two—”

“No.” Rachel glanced up, wrinkling her nose. “Of course not. Geesh. He’s my—well, uncle. But we, uh, did exchange blood.”

Loti’s mouth fell open, but she closed it at Rachel’s anguished eyes. As far as she knew, blood exchange was a fairly intimate act with a vampire. Allowing a vampire to feed on you was, well, orgasmic. Loti knew the clinical aspects of blood exchange from a course she’d taken in college, but she’d never donated herself.
God, no.
A suspicion bloomed, but she gathered her thoughts and looked for the tactful approach.

“So, there were unintended consequences to this experiment?” she asked, proud of herself for not blurting something that would embarrass them both.

Rachel nodded too quickly, twirling her wine glass in both hands. “And it did work, to some extent. But Wolf never saw the results he was looking for. And when my parents realized what we’d done, they asked Wolf to leave me alone for a while.”

Rachel stared into her glass, turning it in uneasy circles. “Unfortunately, I hadn’t thought through what the blood exchange might do to me.” She looked up and cringed. “I was eighteen at the time, and I never thought he would disappear from my life.”

“Well he should’ve known better—he’s the 400-year-old vampire for god’s sake. Vampires.” Loti rolled her eyes. “They’re so self-centered.”

“Hey.” Rachel sat up straighter, a little of her feistiness returning. “It wasn’t like that. He explained it all to me, but I was too damned infatuated with him and the whole idea that we could be partners in some great magical experiment that I wasn’t listening.” Rachel leaned back in her seat, narrowing her eyes at Loti.
            “And he should’ve realized—” Loti started, trying to pick careful words.

“Let me finish, please.” Rachel held a don’t-go-there palm up.

Loti sat back in her seat with a huff and grabbed her glass, splashing wine on the table and her white yoga pants.

“Damn it.”

She’d been doing so well at this tact thing David had often begged her to practice. The waiter appeared with dinner, and after the plates and bowls were settled and their drinks replenished, Loti dabbed at the red stain with a wet napkin. She dipped it into a glass of ice water, then dabbed again, refusing to look at Rachel.

“Oh, Loti, here.” Rachel sighed, touching the wine stain with her fingertips. The wine extricated itself from the fabric’s weave, curling into tiny tendrils that flowed with Rachel’s slender fingers as she lifted her hand. Casually, she guided the red swirls, smirking as the wine fall back into Loti’s wine glass.

“Neat trick.” Loti chuckled.

“No trick. Just magic.” She tossed her hair in an arrogant flip and devolved into a good-humored laugh. Loti managed a half-smile at her friend’s antics. The tension eased, and they ate in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, with just the sound of the other diner’s murmuring conversations, the muted scrape of chairs, and the hum of the patio heaters.

“Rachel! Loti. What a pleasant surprise.” They looked up at the white-haired gentleman smiling warmly at them.

“Patrick! Good to see you.” Rachel stood to hug her surrogate grandfather. She patted his tweed-covered back, letting her hands slide to the leather elbow-patches. Dropping her salad fork, Loti stood waiting her turn.

“Loti, my heavens, it’s been a while.” Patrick Lynch crumpled her in a bear hug, the smell of pipe tobacco and licorice lingering on his breath.

“Have you been doing your exercises?” She admonished him with a doting smile as she drew her head back. Her arms rested on top of his in the familiar manner of long and well-loved friends. His eyes crinkled as he gazed down at her with an affectionate grin. She moved to sit, and was it her imagination or did he hold onto her a second longer than necessary?

“Every day.” He winked, releasing his grip as if he was disinclined to do so. His hair went from gray to white over the years Loti had known him. Years ago, he stepped in to help when Katie Brown found herself a widow with three small boys to raise.

“Is Nanny here?” Rachel peered around him.    

“No, dear. She’s grading papers in her office at the university.” They taught metaphysics together at Clarke University in Lewiston, over an hour away.

“What are you doing up this way?” Rachel sat back down.

“Meeting a friend for a late dinner.” Patrick searched the alley over the heads of the other diners. “He’s not here.” He glanced at his wrist watch and smiled back down at the girls. “I saw you and wanted to say I loved the pictures you sent the foundation from the Christmas party fundraiser. We’ll use them on the website.”

“It was my pleasure, Patrick. I wish I could do more,” Rachel said.

He nodded, rubbing his rheumy eyes. “I know, sweetie.” Patting her shoulder, he cleared his throat and coughed a bit like smokers do. “I’m flying out tomorrow.”

“That’s right,” Rachel exclaimed. “You’re going to be in Ireland for a month, aren’t you? Who’d you get to cover your classes? Not Holden McGee, I hope.” Rachel wrinkled her nose.

“Holden is a fine young man, if a bit . . . pedantic.” He waggled his eyebrows at Rachel. She laughed, clapping her hands together as she leaned her head back.

“A bit. Ha!” She let out a long, amused sigh.

He leaned on the back of Loti’s chair, his hands gripping the rail behind her shoulders. “Do you think
you
might be able to work the Easter fundraiser with Rachel this year?”

Loti blushed. She’d promised to help out with Patrick’s Children’s Cancer Research Foundation for the last two years, but. . . “I’ll be at the ashram. I’m not sure if I can get away,” she hedged.

Patrick tapped his forehead with an age-spotted hand; his face screwed up in consternation. “Oh, that’s right, sweetie. I forgot for a minute.” He wiped at his eyes, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “You take good care of yourself, sweetheart. I know it’s been tough.” He kissed her on the cheek, patting her shoulder some more, and glanced around, again.

 “Well, I’ll let you two finish your meal.” He straightened, fingering a button on his tweed jacket, staring off into space. Then, remembering they were there, he looked back and smiled wide. “Good to see you girls.” And he trotted off to find his dinner companion.