The Vampire Always Bites Twice | Wattys 2022 Grand Prize Winner

57

Greg, Connecting the  ̶D̶o̶t̶s̶ Skin

Caught a bus east, down into Old City. Like I said, I had one more errand to run.

Fang it. Never thought Mrs. Cabroni would report her husband missing. Cry about it to her mother, sure. Send a few goons my way for an under the table questioning, that was to be expected. But to rope the Magistrate in? Woman must be worried as all hell. Her mother and Pack alpha sure didn't seem it.

I supposed, instead, if I really wanted to ensure both my PI license and skin was safe, I could do a little hunting. Return to that café. Lurk there, in a shadowy corner, until the necromancer clumsily exposed herself for the sake of a caffeine craving. Snatch her. Throw her over my shoulder (warm and soft and wriggling). Drag her down into the tunneled labyrinth of the Magistrate headquarters and dust my hands of her magic.

Return her stockings in the process.

Nah, who was I kidding? I wasn't going to do that. Threat of my own eternal damnation incased in cement or no.

I feel like I'm falling love with you...

Had I really said that? Bit extreme. I wasn't actually... Yeah there was attraction between us, of course, but... hadn't even considered... I barely knew the woman! But the look on Isla's face as I spilled my entrails hurt worse than a stake through the heart. Burned all my insides up to ashes.

Phone rang.

I answered.

"How's the errands going, Mr. Mopey Fangs? You haven't checked in all night. Been worried you got hung up," Phoebe snickered, "and asphyxiated yourself while having another sad tug into your new favorite pair of women's undergarments."

Hadn't even realized I'd been unconsciously twirling Isla's stockings between my fingers. I pushed the fabric back into my pocket. Ladies' underwear was not something I wanted to be caught fingering on a public bus. I mean—yeah, whatever, you knew what I mean.

Sat up a bit straighter. "You spying on me again?"

"I'm observing you. As a friend. A worried friend."

"Has she called?" I bit my lip. Hadn't meant to ask Phoebe that. It was too soon. Sounded desperate, didn't it? Too needy. Fangs, I'm a fool. I cleared my throat. "You know, about paying us."

"Oh, uhhhhhhhhhhhh, welllllllll."

"That's a no."

"That's a not yet."

Fine. Good. Whatever. I'd manage without her money. It's fine. My business was probably about to be shut down by either Magistrates discovering I murdered a werewolf, or more werewolves discovering I murdered their bro.

"Hey," Phoebe's voice softened, and for a moment, I thought caught a chill tickling the shell of my ear through the phone line. "You want me to tell her off, when does call?"

"You like her."

"My boy says she's a lying hussy—"

"I didn't say hussy."

"Then she's boycotted customer numero uno. Blacklisted. I'll shuffle her phone lines and redirect her own customers our way. How 'bout that? I could do it. You'd be surprised what else I can hear through these wires. Nobody guts my guy and gets away with it. Soon as I find her social media, I will be leaving a series of scathing reviews. Ooo maybe I'll try my hand at cyberbullying! Seems effective."

The headache I'd been nursing for days had turned my brain to scrambled eggs during Phoebe's rant. "Have I gotten any other calls?"

"Oh. Um. No. Not much. Beyond the uszh."