Enemy Mine

Chapter 19

Post attack, Vincent and I made an effort to go about our business, and the morning became a blur of coffee and phone calls. All the calls were for Vincent. My phone never rang. I didn't even get a 'Wassup?' text from Sylvie. Colin had been good enough to keep Vincent in the loop, but his messages didn't arrive until after I started nursing a headache. Now, I'd taken on the task of cleaning and organizing the contents of my camera bag. My attempt at a distraction.

"Colin says they're stuck in rush hour traffic," Vincent said as he multi-tasked between his smartphone and his laptop. "He and Sylvie should be here by one. Plenty of time before the domus meeting."

"Who's all invited to this circus?" I asked from my cross-legged position on the floor surrounded by lenses.

"The New York magisters and their spouses. And all the Valentinos, of course."

"What about Griffin? Is she old enough to be involved?"

"Griffin is bright and intuitive. She is more than capable of understanding the situation."

"How many bodies is that?"

"Fourteen."

"And what is the male to female ratio?"

Vincent looked up from his laptop, scrunching his forehead in thought. "It's even. Seven to seven. While I cannot vouch for Margo Cromwell, all the other females support our relationship." He held onto that thoughtful pose when I lifted my gaze to tweak my eyebrows. "I know what you're thinking," he said. "Getting the female vote is crucial to our success, and I agree. Testosterone may win more battles, but empathy wins more wars."

"Who did you steal that profound quote from?"

He shrugged, returning to face his screen. "If you know the author, tell me. I thought it was an original."

"Like you?" I grinned at him and went about repacking my camera bag. When my job was done, I slid my equipment under the computer desk, glancing at my phone. It sat on the mouse pad, glaring at me with dark, silent malice. I pressed the power button, lighting up the screen and scowling at the empty message box. Was I in the dog house with Sylvie, or had she been too distracted to text her best friend? Was I still her best friend? "I'm going next door to check on Mr. Pearlman and clean his bathroom."

"A penance for your crime?" Vincent said to my retreating back.

"Maybe."

I spent the next hour with Mr. Pearlman's unmentionables, disinfecting the germs and removing his cigarette-infused old man smell, while he spent the time coughing in his recliner and grumbling at the crap on TV. When my penance had been paid, I wished Mr. Pearlman a nice day and left him with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. As I stood on the landing, dreading the impending meeting with the gollum magisters, my phone rang in my pocket, and I yanked it out, biting my lip when I read the caller's name.

"Hi Sylvie. How's the big adventure going?" I walked into my apartment and mouthed the word 'Sylvie' when Vincent looked up. He nodded and I made a beeline for my room.

"Hi, chica. Sorry, I haven't called until now," Sylvie said, in her usual perky voice. "Colin and I never stopped packing until we got on the road. We also had to find living arrangements for my car. We ended up parking it in his friend, Ward's, barn. Nice guy. In between that chaos, we talked about Manhattan and my best friend who's a gargoyle with demon blood, and how much I love her despite that. She also has good taste in gargoyle friends."

I walked to the bedroom window and propped my shoulder against the frame as relief flooded me. "So, you and Colin talked?"

"Yes, and I'm not mad at you for trying to protect me from knowing the freaky shit exists. That's how nervous breakdowns happen."