Page 51 of Wake the Dream

Kieran clapped his hands together. “Is there any other kind of tea?”

He and Illaria did as advised, heading toward a large sectional couch and sitting. The moment Mrs. Macy walked out of earshot, Illaria hissed, “Does anything strike you as odd?”

“You mean besides how incredibly crazy-good you are at a Midwestern accent? I mean crazy-good.”

She shushed him. “We just got invited into a hive house because we complimented her flower boxes. It shouldn’t be that easy. Isn’t she supposed to be guarding them?”

“The daylight caretakers do their best to maintain an air of normalcy,” Kieran whispered, unsure how good Mrs. Macy’s hearing was. “To act as though there aren’t immortal beings sleeping in coffins the next room over. As far as she knows, we’re just passing tourists. We can’t see anything out of the ordinary anyway. And she’s only human.”

“So you say. I’m getting an itchy feeling between my shoulder blades. Is your power telling you anything weird?”

“Not yet, but I haven’t had time to get a read on her. I’ll do better when she comes back. Sometimes touch is required.”

Mrs. Macy returned moments later with a quaint teapot and three cups, carried on a tray. “Here you go, dears. Enjoy.”

Every instinct was screaming at him to run, despite the fact that Mrs. Macy had been nothing but polite. Unfortunately, they hadn’t yet gotten what they came for. Information. Kieran refused to leave until he had a better handle on the situation.

Illaria accepted her tea with grace and an appreciative smile. “This neighborhood is so cute,” she said with a grin, slipping into the accent with ease. “Tell me more about the neighbors themselves. The kind who wouldn’t mind getting a carpool together?” She used her free hand to reach out and take hold of Kieran’s. “For the little ones we hope to have one day. I need to know about school districts if you have any kind of information on that.”

Against his will, a fire lit in his chest. He knew she said it to make a point, to play along with the story he’d begun to weave, but he actually liked the sound of children. Ones they would make together.

Oh man. Damn, not good.

He hung back in the conversation to let Illaria pepper the older woman with questions. Wear down her defenses.

It gave him the opportunity he needed to reach out. Closing his eyes briefly under the ruse of inhaling his tea, Kieran let his senses spread through the room.

Illaria, as usual, was a blank spot. Instead of being afraid of it, the way he had been the first time he met her, he appreciated the emptiness. Then he reached beyond her for the signature Mrs. Macy gave off. He made contact easily, the sensation like slipping his finger into a warm apple pie. He sensed sweetness and more than a little spice. No blood bond to any of the vampires thus far, though most daylight caretakers chose to become blood slaves to their masters in the end, but she had the thought.

Her age held her back. She didn’t want to take the chance of turning because she was already in her late fifties. The poor woman didn’t consider herself beautiful. What a shame.

He also sensed her worry for one of her wards. The one in the last room down the hall, who had gotten back seconds before the sun rose. He’d stank of cigarette smoke and spoke of a police raid.

Yet something seemed off about Mrs. Macy. He knew what she had for breakfast. He knew how she still felt guilt at never having children before her husband passed away.

But he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what gave him a sense of wrongness. Like a tiny current of cold air in an otherwise toasty room, he couldn’t find the source.

Recognizing the lull in the conversation, and the fact that he’d been silent for too long, Kieran blinked and returned his attention to Illaria.

“Sorry, just thinking about those kids,” he replied, pretending to choke up. “My mother is going to be so happy to be a grandmother. She always regretted not giving me more siblings.”

Mrs. Macy cocked her head, brows knitting together in sympathy. “Poor dear. I understand. Please, let me know about any other questions you might have.” She glanced over her shoulder.

“I’m sure we’ve taken up too much of your time. Gosh, this tea is delicious. But I need to use the restroom, if that’s okay? We’ve been on the road too long and...” Kieran feigned embarrassment.

“Funny, I was about to say the same thing!” Illaria commented, giving his hand a hard squeeze.

“The wife and I, we have tiny bladders. One of the many things we’ve bonded over.” He gritted his teeth. “Sorry, honey, but I’m the one who needs to go first here. I’m about to explode.”

He set the cup down on the table and stood. Mrs. Macy, with no other option, pointed down the hallway before wringing her hands. “There’s a powder room. First door on the right. Please, don’t go any further down. The homeowners—”

“Gosh, of course,” Kieran interrupted. “A Smith never overstays his—or her—welcome. A quick bathroom trip and then we’ll be out of your hair.”

He set off in the right direction, drawing the door open and closing it with a soft snick while still standing in the hallway. The last door at the end of the hall, eh? That’s where Mrs. Macy’s mind went, and he’d picked up on the thought a split second before she pushed it aside.

He needed to get a good look at the vampire. Get him alone before Mrs. Macy could alert anyone to their presence. It was a risk, sure, but if the vamp woke and caught Illaria’s scent before Kieran could be there to intervene... No. He could risk his own safety but not hers.

Keeping his footfalls to a minimum, he crept down, counting the doors.

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