Page 23 of Ophelia's Vampire

I watch her retreat from the alley and turn the corner. I watch the stream of people going about their days pass the mouth of the alley, my feet still rooted to the ground.

It’s not until my cellphone chimes from my pocket that I’m drawn out of my stupor of memory and regret and consternation with the frustrating, delectable human who’s left me there.

“Serra? Any progress to report?”

“Alexandrina was a bust. But she pointed us in the direction of a cousin. Or… a second cousin? Maybe one that’s a couple of times removed. Anyway. We’ve got another lead.”

After a few more details shot back and forth, I hang up and stride back out into the bustle of the city, off to a blessed distraction to occupy my mind before whatever awaits Ophelia and I tomorrow at the Raven.

9

Ophelia

My foot taps impatiently on cobblestones and broken glass and cigarette butts in the alley down the street from the high-rise which houses the Raven.

Part of it’s nerves, part of it’s distinct discomfort at being back here after all this time, and part of it’s irritation with Casimir and this insane plan he cooked up.

This insane plan that makes a certain amount of sense, if I think about it for more than a couple of seconds and set my knee-jerk reaction to contradict him at every turn aside.

But I’m not about to admit that—not to myself, and certainly not to Casimir—so I stand and fidget and wait for the vampire in question to make an appearance.

I’m still not totally over our conversation yesterday.

I’m not over the reminder of what happened here between us seven years ago, and I’m not over my frustration at just how easy it was for Casimir to waltz in and get Cassandra to cave with barely any effort.

But for the sake of actually getting somewhere on this case, I know I have to suck it up and get on board. I’m not getting anywhere on my own, and if pretending to be all cute and cozywith Casimir is the way to finally accomplish something, I can stop being so sensitive about everything else.

A motion from the end of the alleyway draws my attention, but instead of finding a blond, handsome vampire heading my way, I only find a couple of passersby on their way into the club.

From what Cleo’s told me, the Raven is still a paranormal hot-spot, even after the passage of the Acts. It’s still known for its dark charm and temptation, and still serves exclusive, high-flying clientele. They don’t do any kind of advertising, and you won’t catch them dead on a Google Maps search, but for those in the know, it’s remained the place to see and be seen on a Friday night like this one.

It makes me remember the days when I used tobeone of those club-goers. Dressed for attention and with the sparkle of a promising evening ahead, nothing more pressing on my mind than an upcoming midterm or if I was showing enough leg.

Shaking my head to clear away the memories, I look over and catch sight of a flash of blond hair and a tall, powerful frame clad in an exquisitely tailored suit.

It’s one more hit to my already questionable nerves, one more reminder of the past, one more reason to push down and swallow back and bury deep everything and anything to do with the way things used to be.

There’s no place for it. Not tonight. Not when the two of us have a job to do.

Crossing my arms and turning to face him, I’m subjected to Casimir’s long, lazy appraisal.

“You always did know how to draw the eye,” he says, warm approval sparkling in his crimson gaze.

My outfit is a bit more subdued than what I would have worn for a night out back in my younger days, and I don’t want to accept any compliments from this irritating vampire, but even I can admit I look good.

A black body-con dress with sleeves to my wrists and a plunging neckline, black leather boots that hit just over my knee, and make-up done with a heavy, smoky eye and a deep burgundy lip. I’m going for a vibe somewhere between ‘don’t fuck with me’ and ‘wouldn’t you like to find out’ and I think I just about nailed it.

I frown at Casimir. “Not the reason we’re here.”

“Should that stop me from admiring the effort you made?”

Ignoring that, I square my shoulders and get to business. “How are we playing this?”

Casimir’s teasing smile disappears. “We’ll want to get as much time as we can with Marcus and Philippe. A pleasant chat between old friends, casual conversation about what’s been happening in the city since you’ve been away.”

Briefly, the memory of Marcus calling Casimirbrotherthat night on the roof flashes through my mind.

I wonder how well the three of them know each other.

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