The Vampire Always Bites Twice | Wattys 2022 Grand Prize Winner

23

Isla, In the Splash Zone

"Well, that was weird," I said the moment we were deposited back in Irwin's classy interior. The vibe was much more relaxed and refined than outside. Muted even. Staff served their blood from IVs into fancy cocktail glasses. No paper cups. Only humans with fangs sunk into them were the ones the vamps brought from home. BYO-Bloodbags.

Instead of resuming our seats at the bar, Greg steered us to a golden velvet sofa between a fern and a patio door. The bartender sneered at us as we sat. But once our asses hit that cushion, Greg released a heavy breath he'd been holding for the last twenty minutes. Literally.

I wasn't feeling so relieved.

"Things in there felt clammy," I said, "in more ways than one."

Greg rolled his eyes.

"I just think, that, maybe, if we're going to criticize each other's methods of interviewing persons, we could at least address how easily you folded under that obvious bribe."

If I didn't actually, seriously, really, like need to find Lily, I'd probably be asking how much of that bribe I'd get a cut of for keeping my trap shut about the whole breaking and entering thing I was accomplice to.

Greg hailed a server. As they arrived, Greg laid a gentle hand on my thigh. He was cold and I resisted squirming. Not wanting to get more flack about dropping character or whatever, I just nibbled on the fingertips of my glove as the vamp ordered us the same cocktails as before, all chill and casual, like he didn't just get clocked in the face and we didn't get threatened by some jelly bitch in a boy's locker room. This was shaping up like high school all over again, man.

The server left. Greg didn't remove his hand from me. Instead, he loosened his tie slightly with his other. He was silent for a while, chewing the inside of his cheek, obviously mulling something over in that head of his.

Contemplative silence is heckin' overrated. "And what's all this jazz about somebody's ex-wife?"

"Dmitri hired me."

Finally. He speaks.

"Yeah, kind of connected the dots on that one myself, thanks."

"When Dmitri hired me, it was to find Lily because he believed her to be his 'true love,' and wife, Rosemond reincarnated."

This I was also vaguely aware of from our chat last night. But, still... "Big yikes."

"Yes," Greg nodded. "Big yikes. Seems my old pal Dmitri forgot to mention his current wife, or that his side-dame danced in his own nightclub. His valet made clear to me he didn't want Lily found. Then Lily's neighbor saw a man fitting the valet's description the night she vanished, and you know, just before Curtis grabbed me on the dance floor, I ran into that valet again. He told me to meet him on the south side of the roof in," Greg checked his watch, "thirty minutes from now. Perfect amount of time for us to be milling about the place while we wait for Sloane to draw up a check."

"Oooh, how clandestine," I joked to hide the queasy feeling sloshing in my belly. Had Greg just agreed to meet Lily's killer out back like a pair of seventh graders planning their first big kid fight out by the flagpole?

"And if I were any sort of a professional, I wouldn't have told you any of that. Course I can't send you home now, can I? Not with the scene we've made. You'd be too easy a target."

"Mm, I'm a good runner in heels. Just ask my high school prom date." I made a face, "is that why you'd send me home?"

"Yes," Greg pinched his nose and sighed. "No. I'm angry with you."