Authors: Melody Johnson
“It won’t hurt anything either.”
I stared at Walker, his face chiding and my hip pounding, and I gave up on pretenses. I used to go through almost an entire day without the arthritis and scar tissue from my old injury affecting my daily life. Today was obviously not one of those days, so I swallowed my stubbornness.
“Well, in that case, an icy patch would be great.”
Walker stepped around the hood of his truck and onto the wooden wrap-around porch. A very thin, auburn-haired woman met us at the entrance and opened the screen door for us. She wore an oversized, green sweater, boot cut jeans, and fuzzy green socks. Exactly how thin she’d become was mostly hidden under the layers of baggy clothes, and when she smiled at our approach, her hazel eyes crinkled with genuine warmth. Her smile was wide and bright and had the uncanny ability to transform her delicate features from frail to precious.
Walker smiled back, and his expression was equally warm. Her pale skin and sharp features reminded me of fine china, something of high value but easily broken. I wondered if Walker had noticed the hollows under her collarbone and the frail, protruding bones of her wrist. Walker didn’t normally miss much, but if the answering gleam in his eyes was any indication, he was distracted, maybe by more than just her eyes and blossoming smile.
The corner of my heart I had let soften toward Walker over the past few weeks ached.
Shoving my feelings for Walker and those dangerous hopes aside, I gritted my teeth against the pain and climbed the porch’s front steps.
Walker bounded up the steps beside me. “DiRocco, I’d like you to meet my partner and very good childhood friend, Ronnie Carmichael. Ronnie, this is Cassidy DiRocco.”
Ronnie’s smile slipped slightly. She looked almost cautious as she held out her hand.
I took it and forced my own smile. Her hand was rough and her knuckles pink, scaly, and cracking, like she worked regularly with plaster. She covered the back of my palm with her other hand in a handshake sandwich.
“It’s great to finally meet you,” Ronnie said, and her soft voice sounded genuine. “Ian has told me so much about you. I feel like I know you already.”
Walker had divulged absolutely nothing about Ronnie, so I couldn’t respond in kind. I simply nodded. “All good things, I hope.”
Ronnie’s smile brightened. “Any friend who helps Ian on one of his missions is a friend of mine. I’m so glad he found a night blood in the city. I hate to think of him surviving the night alone.” She sighed. “Not that being alone ever stopped him.”
I smiled, and this time mine was genuine, too. “I was just as fortunate that he found me. He had my back, too. Multiple times.”
“I’m sure he did. Some of the other night bloods, like Logan and Theresa, lived in solitude, too, but I think they appreciate having backup now.”
“The other night bloods?” I cocked my head, forcing my expression to remain bland. “I thought you and Walker were the only night bloods in the area.”
Ronnie nodded. “We were. For years we were the only night bloods we knew existed, but since Walker found Theresa, Jeremy, Logan and his sons, and now you, we’re becoming quite a little family.”
I glanced askance at all the vehicles in the driveway. “Do Theresa, Jeremy, and Logan live nearby?”
“We can continue this conversation inside.” Walker placed his hand firmly at my lower back, ushering me inside.
I turned to protest, thinking he was just trying to derail my question, but when I looked back, I recognized the urgency in Walker’s tone. The sun had set and full darkness surrounded the house.
Ronnie extended her hand towards me. “Here, let me give you the tour. You’ll be staying in the room across the hall from Walker. Jeremy lives next to—”
“It’s been a long day for both of us, Ronnie,” Walker interrupted, but his tone was so baby sweet that she nodded sympathetically, like she hadn’t been interrupted. I felt nauseated. “I think Cassidy would rather freshen up before meeting anyone. Once she’s settled, I’m sure she’d love a tour.”
Ronnie looked at me as if to validate Walker’s statement, but the truth was that I couldn’t care less about a tour, whether it occurred now, after I’d taken a shower, or never. Walker’s house was much bigger than I’d expected. Ronnie lived much closer to Walker than I imagined, and my anticipation for this visit couldn’t have been more misplaced. I shifted my gaze between Ronnie and Walker, and although they both expected me to respond in some intelligible fashion, I couldn’t get past the fact that I was standing in what was essentially a coven of night bloods.
* * * *
“How many night bloods are living in this house?”
I’d followed Walker to the bathroom in tense silence, watched him rummage for the icy-hot patches, and I’d stood stoically while he alternately eyed the patch and my skin. I held my shirt to expose my waist while he eased the band of my pants down slightly to gain better access to my hip. The rough heat of his fingertip grazed along the puckered star of my scar, and goose bumps shivered across my back. A deep, radiating heat stoked through my gut at his touch. My breath caught, and I couldn’t hold my tongue any longer.
“Ten night bloods?” I guessed. At Walker’s telling silence, I upped the ante and my volume with it. “Fifteen?”
“Not everyone lives here. It’s more of a home base, not a home, per se.”
“My God, more than twenty?”
Walker sighed. I could hear the frustration expel with his breath, but I refused to let this go.
“The last time we spoke about night bloods, you assured me that we were rare, that the only night blood you’d ever spoken to before me was your partner from home, Ronnie.” I lifted my arms and gestured around the bathroom. “Well here we are, home, and Ronnie isn’t the only night blood you’ve been talking to. She’s not even the only night blood you live with!”
Walker put up his hands in surrender. “I thought you’d be excited to meet more night bloods besides myself and Ronnie.”
I shook my head. “Why did you lie to me?”
“I never lied to you. The last time we spoke about night bloods, Ronnie was the only one living here. She was the only night blood besides yourself that I’d ever spoken to. That was the truth at the time.”
I narrowed my eyes. “That was only three weeks ago.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Walker said, and he had the nerve to look baffled.
“Don’t
ma’am
me. After over thirty years of knowing only one night blood, you find twenty in the past three weeks?”
Walker crossed his arms. “I make friends fast. Look at us.”
I balled my fists to keep from strangling him. “How are you meeting so many night bloods in such a short timeframe?”
“There’s safety in numbers. We get picked off so easily on our own, one night blood at a time, but together, we finally stand a chance against them, against the fate we were born to.”
I shook my head, equally awed and horrified. “You’re building your own coven of night bloods, an army to fight against the vampires.”
Walker didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. I could see the fire deep in his eyes and the effort it took for him not to smile at the thought of fighting and killing vampires.
“Not everyone wants to fight them,” I whispered. “I’d prefer to avoid confrontation.”
“Dinner with Bex is avoiding confrontation?”
I glared at him. “The vampires are faster, stronger, more lethal, and harder to kill than us. Fighting them is suicide.”
“I can’t just stand by meekly and let them have me,” Walker snapped.
“I’m not saying you should. Protecting yourself is one thing, but seeking trouble is another thing entirely.”
Walker sighed. “How is living together under one roof seeking trouble? We’re simply protecting ourselves. Safety in numbers, like I said.”
“Together or apart, we’re no match for them if they decide to attack. Living together just makes it easier for them. The sheep are herded together under one roof now, gathered for slaughter.”
“Like shooting fish in a barrel, you’re saying,” Walker murmured. “You think I’ve cornered us.”
His quiet, unsure tone made me hesitate. He wanted to do the right thing. He thought he’d been doing the right thing. I rubbed my upper arms, lost in thought and mixed, irresolute feelings. “I don’t know. Who am I to arrive here one minute and judge you the next?” I bit my lip. “But standing in this house, knowing that over a dozen night bloods are here with me, feels a little like standing in the center of a bullseye.”
“It’s safe here, Cassidy. I’ve taken measures to ensure everyone’s protection against Bex and her coven.”
Walker spread the icy-hot patch over my skin, pressing its frigid length along the curve of my hip. I jerked from the shock of it, but Walker held me immobile against him, his hands steady on my hip as he applied the patch.
I breathed in a sharp hiss between my clenched teeth. “I’m sure you have taken precautionary measures, but—”
“No buts. I have, and I think you’ll enjoy meeting the other night bloods. Until now, I’ve been the only night blood you’ve spoken to. Maybe sharing your experience with them will help put things in perspective. Help you better see my perspective.”
I pursed my lips and tried to harden my resolve, but my will was no match against his velvet brown eyes. “I’ll keep an open mind,” I relented.
Walker smiled, and I recognized the intention and heat in that slow grin.
I sidestepped around his advance toward the bathroom door, but he blocked my exit.
“Excuse me.”
He stepped closer. “I have something else I’d like to discuss, if you don’t mind.”
“I mind. I’m already late for a phone call.”
“Then you can continue to be late for a few more minutes.”
I crossed my arms and stared him down, but Walker’s grin only widened.
“We haven’t had much time alone since you arrived, and with a full house, I doubt we’ll have as much alone time as you might have anticipated.”
I raised my eyebrows. “So you’re taking advantage of the little alone time we have now, in the bathroom?”
He laughed. “Not exactly. I just wanted to make my intentions clear, if they weren’t already.”
I held my breath for a moment against what I was about to say, but I’d never been one to mince words. “Honestly, they’re not.”
“They were clear enough that you came to visit.”
“That was before I realized that you and Ronnie were living together,” I said pointedly.
Walker blinked. “Ronnie?”
I nodded. I’d seen their looks. I’d seen his smile. He could discount their relationship if he wanted, but he’d be lying to me. Worse, he’d be lying to himself.
He leveled his eyes on me. “There’s nothing romantic between Ronnie and me. She’s my family.”
“If that’s true, why didn’t you tell me that you live together? You’ve known that I was visiting for weeks. In all that time, you could have warned me.”
“It never occurred to me to ‘warn you’ because there’s nothing to warn against. There’s nothing there.”
I rolled my eyes. “You didn’t tell me because whether or not there’s nothing or something there, you know how it looks. I’d bet some of the people living in this house think you’re a couple. How long did you live together, just the two of you, before you started building your night blood coven?”
Walker pursed his lips, his grin wiped clean. After anticipating this visit for weeks and finally closing the physical distance between us, the inches separating us now felt wider than the miles we’d been apart.
“I guess you have everything figured out,” Walker said. He turned away from me, and I let him leave the bathroom without another word.
I wasn’t good at keeping in touch with people, which made distance impossible, even with people I loved unconditionally, like my parents and Nathan. I had the uncanny ability to not see or speak to friends and family for months, and when we finally did visit one another, pick up right where we’d left off. Other people, so I’m told by frustrated friends and family, normal people, need regular phone calls to replace the physical void that distance creates.
Walker was the second person with whom I’d ever achieved a functional long-distance relationship. The emotional closeness we’d developed while we were physically apart still stunned me.
My little brother was the first.
When I moved to California for those four years of undergrad at Berkeley, my parents had fits about my lack of communication. I didn’t call. I didn’t write. I didn’t email. I texted Nathan, which likely only made my silence toward them even more infuriating, but since they wouldn’t upgrade to texting, which was all the communication I honestly had time for during the week, I didn’t talk to them until I traveled home for Christmas.
On weekends, when I finally had ten or fifteen minutes to breathe between classes, essays, interviews, and a social life, I called the one person I wasn’t angry with, who hadn’t nagged me all week to call because I knew he could hold a conversation without further nagging. I called Nathan.
I talked to him about the freedom of college life, about staying out late without worrying about curfew, having sleepovers without asking for permission, and eating dessert for dinner. I didn’t mention drinking or guys. I just wanted to give him something to cling to in the prison of rules with our parents at home. He talked to me about his budding career as a track star, how he’d medaled at districts and earned a spot in states, how the high school had an assembly for the spring athletes, and he was only one of four students that were presented with plaques directly from Principal Doyle. He didn’t mention grades or his restricted social life. He just wanted to give me enough to miss him and my former life, so I’d return home after undergrad.
He knew I’d planned to stay on the west coast after graduation, and my plans were only solidified after meeting and falling in love with Adam. As fate would have it, however, it was my parents who dragged me back to New York City even after being the driving force that had pushed me across the country.
When they died, I moved back home for Nathan.
Although I’d intended to return to California and Adam, it was no surprise that I hadn’t been able to make the long distance work, and by the time Adam came to New York to drag me back home with him, I’d buried myself in my career to forget the grief and pain of lost time and memories.