A Vampyre's Sunrise - Jeff Schanz (8 ebook reader .txt) 📗

ecstatic that he was able to give that to her. He never had control of his life either, but making Lia happy was close enough.

Brandt sat back and rubbed his bloated stomach. If I go for a run, I’ll have to wait until the afternoon, otherwise, I’ll puke. “Thank you, honey,” he said.

Lia slid into the opposite chair and set a small plate on the table in front of herself. She blew a little air kiss as a “you’re welcome” response. No one would ever complain that Lia wasn’t an affectionate person.

Brandt said, “It was terrific as usual. You know, one of these days, you’re going to have to let me cook breakfast for you though.”

“I don’t need to eat, silly. You know that.”

He gave her a crooked smirk and nodded toward the piece of bacon on her plate.

Her face flickered through several expressions, unable to find the appropriate one for her excuse. “Yes, well, I do like to taste bacon.”

“See, you’re just like everyone else. So, I’ll cook you some bacon. Ooo, and I used to make really good hash browns. Come on, you never let me cook for you anymore.”

She thought for a moment, snapped off a bite of bacon, and then said, “Alright. You can cook breakfast for me any day you like.”

“Really?”

“Certainly. All you have to do is get up before I do.”

You little… Lia was a night-loving vampyre, and because of her high octane energy system, she slept considerably less than most humans.

She giggled softly and took another bite of bacon.

“Uh huh. You think you’re being clever,” said Brandt, putting on his poker face. “Well, what about if I wear you out with a night of marathon acrobatic sex so you’ll be so tired you’ll sleep until noon? Hmm?”

“That would be delightful. But, if I recall, the last time we did that, we both slept until noon.”

Oh, yeah.

Lia said, “Poor Rollins had to make do with a granola bar.”

We have granola bars?

Brandt tried to think of a Plan B, but came up short. Even though he wasn’t really upset, he did miss being able to do things for her. She loved everything she was doing, but he felt like somehow her desire to take care of everyone else was robbing her of other things. As she almost always did, she sensed his mood and had the correct response.

“I know you wish to make me happy, but I am already very happy, my husband. But I understand your point, so – tomorrow morning, after I cook something for Rollins, you may fix me whatever you wish, and I will look forward to sampling it.”

Brandt gave her a dependant smile. “More than just tomorrow.”

“Alright, once every week then?”

“You got a deal, missy.”

Brandt was laughing at himself inside. A little less than a year ago, his world was a complicated hell of vengeance, self-loathing, destructive sabotage, and a death wish. Now his world was a simple place where all he focused on was pleasing Lia. When she was happy, he was happy. And she had stayed continuously happy for nearly six months. And so he had been happy for the same. Purely and absolutely. Life could be really weird.

He helped clear the table even though Lia preferred to do it herself. Brandt was aware that Lia was massaging his pride by allowing him to stack the dishwasher. No doubt, she would rearrange the dishes after he left, but he felt better anyway.

He went into the only room in the house that was truly his: the workout room. Lia had insisted it was his to design and decorate however he liked with no comment from her. Complete freedom to tack up whatever horrific artwork he enjoyed: poker dogs, sports stars, cool cars, bikini models, all perfectly acceptable. Despite her expectations, all he ended up hanging was his Army certificates, pictures of his deceased Army friends, and an American flag.

Workout crushed, he showered and stepped back into the bedroom to dress. Lia was sorting through her closet, sifting through dresses. Her casual, home attire, like today’s ensemble, resembled a mashup of styles from the 60s and 80s (Lia’s sense of style was still catching up). Outside, especially to something as formal sounding as a “luncheon,” she wore dresses. And today, she did have something she deemed formal.

“Your lunch is at twelve-thirty, right?” asked Brandt.

“Yes,” she said. “I am so nervous.”

“We talked about this. You already met these ladies, and they liked you. They want to be your friend.”

“But I’m still nervous.”

Lia probably hadn’t had a real friend in around one hundred years. In her house, she had authority and was the center of attention, but outside the ranch property, she was as timid and awkward as an adolescent lost in a big city. It was not necessarily a metaphor considering they lived near Los Angeles.

“All the guys here love you. The ladies will too,” said Brandt.

“It’s easier to talk to men. I don’t know how to talk to women.”

“You’re a woman.”

“Yes, but what if they wish to discuss things I am unfamiliar with? Or embarrassed by?”

“Honey, whatever it is, just be brave and go with it. They’ll probably just wanna talk about writing anyway. You’ll do fine. You’ll see.”

She nodded. “What if they want to come back here?”

“Heaven forbid we should have women eating our food rather than men.”

She nodded again and chagrined. I actually won a discussion? A tiny victory.

Brandt said, “We can just tell Manny to stay scarce while your guests are over so you can have privacy to talk and they won’t think we run a paramilitary camp.”

“See?” she said, hands on hips.

Brandt kissed her forehead. “It’ll be fine.”

Lia sighed and forced a reluctant smile. She reached up to straighten out his twisted collar.

“So, you’re just meeting with Tom?” she asked.

“Yeah. He’s got some new lead on an old case that he wants me to go with him to check out.”

Lia nodded, then cocked her head. She had sensed something in his thoughts.

“The same case that made you think that you should hire a security team for us?” she asked.

“Well – yeah. But it’s no big deal today. It’s just a lead to check out.”

Lia stared into his eyes. He always had a hard time pulling away from that. She gave him a subtle pout, then reached forward and pulled his face to hers. Their heads pressed together so their noses touched.

“You will be careful,” she said.

“It’s no big deal.”

“I know you are trying to spare me from worrying, and I will not pry into your mind further – but promise me.”

“I promise. I’ll be careful.”

“Ok.” She gave him a small kiss on the nose. “I’ll see you later.”

“Kay. Love you.”

She let him go and went back to her closet.

As Brandt walked out to his truck, he chided himself for not hiding his thoughts better. He was indeed trying to keep something from Lia that would worry her. It worried him a little too. Confronting a fugitive was always a risk, and there was the possibility this one could be armed and hostile. One way or another, he’d find out very shortly.

CHAPTER 6

 

 

 

 

Lia sat by herself in the rear of the restaurant. She had asked Billy Tanner to drop her off a few minutes early so she would have time to negotiate a table furthest from a window for her and the soon-to-arrive lunch-mates. In her home, every window had UV protection, so she could wear whatever she wanted and be wherever she liked without worry, but once she stepped outside the door, she had to don thorough defenses for her skin. Though she was completely covered except for her face, every little inch of distance away from direct sunlight was always a help. All her friends and professional acquaintances, including the ladies she was meeting today, knew about her “XP skin condition,” and though everyone tries to be helpful about it, she found it best to just arrange things herself whenever possible. That way there was less chance something suspicious would slip out. The restaurant was a country club café that was open and airy. The only spot that was out of direct sunlight was the table near the kitchen. It would do fine.

Her spot in the center of the room was even a little cooler. Temperatures never really bothered her much. Her vampyre system tended to correct her internal temperature for the surrounding environment in most cases. Everyone else in the room was wearing light, warm weather clothing. She was the only one completely covered. A fairly typical situation wherever she went.

Today she wore a simple silk dress that didn’t have long sleeves, but she added white, arm-length gloves. A pastel scarf shielded her neck, and her skirt reached to about mid-calf. Her long brown boots covered the rest of her legs. She felt funny about wearing her hat indoors, especially if it had the veil for her face, which this one did, so the hat hung from the chair back. There shouldn’t be any direct sunlight hitting her face at her table, so she figured she would be fine without the hat. Should she feel any kind of heat on her skin, she could always just put the hat back on.

Her hair was the usual style that she had worn ever since she got married. The front was pulled back in either a clip or a band, and the rear hung long. Her family had always held a strict standard for hairstyles, which she had adopted for nearly one hundred years. Matriarchs of the family wore their hair up indoors. Since Lia was the only woman in her house when she lived with Viktor, she wore her hair up inside the house. Outdoors was the choice of the lady, but typically an unmarried woman wore her hair down and married ladies wore it up. On the island, she wore it down outdoors. But after she married Brandt, she decided that her husband should have a say in her appearance. He was sweet and tried to defer to her judgment, but she knew what he liked. He always preferred her hair down. Though he once had her put it in pig-tails, that was for an entirely different reason. The traditional up-do would’ve been appropriate if she was in another century, but she was in this one now. She compromised and decided she would pin the front of her hair back in public, but in the house, she would dress and appear however her husband liked. That felt right to her.

The two ladies she was waiting for arrived. They were talking to the hostess, probably asking if Lia had already reserved a table. She waved at them.

Lia had met Margorie “Marge” Weddle and Celia Forster at a romance book convention. They were romance writers like Lia, and their publisher had placed them in the same booth to greet fans and conventioneers. The day had been long with very little people talking to any of them, so they chatted to each other for hours. Lia was surprised to find out that the ladies enjoyed her company. She had assumed they would see her as competition and be cold to her. But Lia’s writing style was considered old fashioned, atypical to most modern novelists including Marge and Celia. They wrote more explicit books that primarily focused on titillation. A step below erotica, though some people referred to the genre as “Mommy Porn.” Marge was the only one that used a pseudonym: Margot LeBlanc. She didn’t think her real name sounded very appealing to readers. During their stint at the convention table, the two writers found Lia entertaining and asked if she wanted to do lunch sometime. Today was finally sometime. For nearly a century, Lia hadn’t had a friend, and even though she was now a second mother to nearly two dozen men that patrolled her property, she wasn’t sure that counted as friends since they were paid to be there, and their friendship might be coaxed