began. Morgan arched a brow. I paused. I had no idea what to say next. I didn't even know where to start.
Morgan lifted her wineglass and took a hefty swallow. I watched her fangs come out as she savored the blood.
It hit me with all the subtlety of an atomic bomb. I just so happened to be sitting across from an expert in getting rid of unwanted bodies and plausible cover stories. Morgan had not survived all these years because she was an idiot.
No, that label fell to me.
I'd had the brief realization of being the probable only suspect this morning. After that it had been all too easy to conveniently forget all about it.
I do realize that my ostrich routine isn't exactly healthy. Or wise. And if I live long enough, I'll consider therapy. Maybe.
My only excuse is this entire morbid episode had me totally rattled. If I didn't get with it my excuses would get me killed.
"What would you do?" I asked bluntly.
"Lie, and start sharpening my stakes," she smiled. A tiny drop of red stained her left fang.
A good plan, simple and to the point. As an added bonus I'd already unwittingly put part of it into action. I would just continue to swear up and down that the prince had never, ever shown up for his interview to anyone who cared to ask.
Most of the businesses on my block close at five. It's a quiet area. I couldn't recall seeing anyone when the prince had left. Chances were good that there were no witnesses.
Even if the prince had called someone on his way to the interview, I planned to lie my ass off and the prince was dead, so there wasn't anyone to say otherwise.
Tomorrow I'd stop at Lowes and pick up some wooden stakes. Yesterday's paper listed an advertisement for flowerbed fencing. I'd noticed because my Aunt has several flowerbeds in her front yard and I knew she would love the short white picket fencing. In fact, I thought the newspaper coupon was still on my counter.
All I had to do was keep a section for myself, separate the little stakes into an office pile, a car pile and one for my apartment. Plus a couple extra to keep on my person at all times. I knew Morgan had an extra knife harness that I could borrow.
Perfect. I didn't feel quite so blonde anymore. I now had a plan and it included thirty percent off.
7. Dangerous Demons.
Half an hour later my neck began to tingle. I didn't need the quickening of my heartbeat to tell me who had just arrived.
I didn't like it that we already had some connection. Not one bit. Happy dancing hormones aside, that demon spelled trouble in a big way. I just didn't know which way.
Morgan glanced at me, eyed the pulse in my neck and then swiveled around. I did my best imitation of a Stonehenge boulder.
"You haven't even moved," she pointed out.
I shrugged. What could I say? Hormones are hell. No rhyme or reason and they will get you into trouble time and time again.
Mine had just gathered to plot against me.
"May I join you?"
Oh Sweet Spirits. I nearly came right then and there. This close, his voice vibrated through his chest, across the table and rumbled its way down into my belly. Dark and so deep I could have used grappling hooks to pull myself up.
I froze, just stiffened from head to toe in my chair as if someone had put a spell on me.
This went beyond trouble and into the realm of Seriously Screwed. My reaction was out of proportion. The demon continued to focus his attention on me and not Morgan – the short, slightly rotund one, not the drop dead gorgeous one. Something was off.
Morgan eyed the two of us. She curled her long white fingers around the stem of her wineglass and settled back in her chair, obviously prepared to enjoy the show.
A long silence ensued.
I did my utmost best to remember to breath. Morgan took a long drink. The demon pulled out the chair next to me.
He somehow managed to brush my thigh with his as he sat down. I gulped. Little tiny flames erupted from that spot.
Startled, I looked down. No, just imaginary ones.
Learning to Kill: Stories