Page 10 of Vampire's Breath

I wanted to retreat, to be alone. If my mother were here, she would chastise me. “Lorcan,”she would say, “you need to talk to people. I didn’t raise you to be inhospitable and sit by yourself.”

Of course, if my mother were here, I would listen. When my mother was with me, my life was different. I had my family—my brothers—and we would attend the parties together, carousing among the women. The alcohol flowed freely, and so did the blood. Those were times of joy and happiness. I would never want to forget them or change them. If I had met her then, would Briar be one of those women? Or would she be the only woman?

Mine.

The thought gave me pause, making me blink. I had never sought any woman in that way. Buthehad. Before I could process it any further, the greenhouse loomed, and I hastened my pace to open the door of the darkened building for Briar.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice surprised.

“My pleasure.”

The building was larger than I expected for the location. Several trees stood in the center, with native plants and herbs surrounding them. Concrete pathways wandered through flowers and fruit trees. The few remaining people in the building stood together, not moving. The offending bar and ice machine occupied the only open space.

“Sorry, everyone.” Briar’s voice rang through the air. “We’ll get this fixed in a minute.”

I pressed my lips together. Aside from no power, a sharp, acidic aroma reached me. I watched Briar as she felt her way past the bar and started down the path to the right. “Watch out,” I called out as she approached a plant that had fallen across the walk.

“What?” She stopped and turned back toward me, but her eyes looked at an empty space to my right, making me smile. Without a light, she could see nothing. She started toward the back of the greenhouse again, creeping until her lower leg touched the leaves. “Thanks.”

She inched her way around it, then straightened.

“Lorcan? Did you bring a phone with you? I left mine in the office, and I can’t see a damn thing back here.”

I didn’t need the flashlight from my phone to help, but I switched it on for her, then joined her. “What’s the issue?”

She had moved a few potted plants and now crouched in front of a fuse box, her brow furrowed. I sat on my haunches next to her, her soft perfume filling my nostrils and making my heart quicken.

“I think a switch has tripped.”

Her hair brushed my cheek as she leaned to the side, and my skin tingled at the touch. I closed my eyes, taking a calming breath.

She snapped a switch, and immediately, the fairy lights strung around the building threw a silver hue over the plants.

“Is everyone alright?” Briar stood.

I followed her back to the main group. There, she touched arms softly, ensuring all her guests were comfortable. Why did I feel like I had seen her do this before, although I had never met her? I stood back, memories lingering just out of my grasp.

After ensuring the last group of people was fine, she walked back to me, running her hand along the dark bartop as she approached. “How did you see that plant?” She barely finished the question before she turned to see the damage. “Oh, no. Not the Mount Blackwood Holly.” She ran to it, kneeling beside it to lift it.

“Be careful of the glass,” I said.

The large bush lay on its side, its spiny green leaves creating a dramatic backdrop for the scarlet flowers. Beside it lay broken glass from where the ceramic pot had smashed a wine bottle, the liquid now soaking the soil.

“My mother gave this to me as a gift when I first opened the center. If I leave it like this, it’ll be damaged.” Briar’s voice rang with sadness. “I’m going to have to get a cart and get it backto the office to clean the roots and repot it. Normally, I’d do it here, but…” She waved her hand, indicating the people who had ventured into the relit space. She sighed, her eyes darting around. “Where’s the barman? I need to get this glass cleaned up.”

“Let me help you.” I started picking up the dark green glass littering the floor.

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

I smiled. “I won’t.” I dumped a handful of glass into the bin next to the bar and returned to the task.

“I’ll get a broom.” She disappeared to the back of the space again, returning to clean the smallest shards I couldn’t get, before she returned the broom.

“Could you help me set this up, then I’ll go get the cart? Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” I said. “But why don’t you let me just carry it? We don’t need a cart.”

I stooped and righted the plant, the aroma of the wine washing over me, then picked the pot up. “Lead the way.”

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