Page 23 of Bishop's Flight
“Oh yeah, he’s got money. He’s like a real estate developer or something.” She wrote a name under the number. “Try asking her what the developer guy’s name is. I don’t know. My friend’s name is Savannah. She’ll probably know the rich guy’s name.”
Brigid took the paper and folded it neatly. “Sierra, you’re a lifesaver. Thank you.”
“Hey, I hope it works out to bring that motorcycle show here. I’d love to get tickets for my boyfriend.”
Brigid held up the paper. “For this? I’ll find a few to comp you if the show happens. Thanks a million.” She walked away from the bar, and Sierra was beaming as she cleared her drink.
Eight
Lucas was halfway through reading the newspaper from the second night when he heard someone at the door.
He glanced up and saw the dead bolt in the door slide back. He got to his feet. No way was he going to be on the ground—helpless—when his captors walked in. When they’d come in the night before, he’d been sleeping, groggy, and they’d been able to cut the lights, blindfold him, and shove a newspaper in his hands before he could gather any information.
That wasn’t going to happen again.
The ancient desk clock had an alarm, so he’d taken a nap that afternoon and woken at nightfall. If he was going to be held by vampires, it was better to be on their schedule.
There was a gentle tap, and then the doorknob turned and the strangest person Lucas had ever seen walked into the room, which was saying something since he’d grown up in Las Vegas.
The vampire—it had to be a vampire—gracefully bent its head, giving Lucas a formal nod totally at odds with their surroundings. “Mr. O’Hara,” the vampire said. “I apologize that we must meet in this way.”
Their voice was oddly musical, and Lucas felt both discomfort and confusion when he realized he couldn’t tell if the vampire was a man or a woman. There were nonbinary kids at school, but he’d never met a vampire who was, and everything about the creature was disconcerting. They were tall with very pale skin—that was typical for a vampire—and hair the color of fire. Their eyes were black and their lips full and deep red, almost as if they were wearing lipstick.
Or if they’d just fed.
“Uh…” Lucas swallowed. “Hi. I’d like to go home please.”
The vampire put a hand on their chest. “I am sorry, but that’s not possible.” They walked into the room, and the guards in the blackness behind the creature closed the door, leaving Lucas alone with the predator. They folded themselves gracefully into the desk chair that barely looked able to hold Lucas’s weight, much less a grown adult.
It wasn’t just their appearance that was throwing Lucas off—their clothes were stark white. They looked like hospital clothes, or maybe priests wore things like that. The pants were wide and loose, and the vampire wore a tunic that hung off one shoulder, exposing a crawling black tattoo.
“Sit.” The vampire gestured to the bed. “We should get to know each other.”
Lucas decided to sit. If the vampire was going to kill him, he probably would have already. She? Their hair was also at odds with his appearance because it was long and flowing, giving the vampire a feminine air, but their height and the breadth of their chest felt masculine.
Maybe if he pissed the vampire off, he’d get some more information. It might be a stupid idea, but so was sitting there doing nothing.
Attacking is defending.Agnes’s voice was back.
Lucas leaned against the wall and examined the vampire just the way the vampire was examining him. “So are you a girl or a boy or what?”
He was being rude. If Agnes and Rose heard him, he’d be in trouble, but maybe you were allowed to be rude to the vampire who had kidnapped you.
The red lips curled in amusement. “I have been both when it suited me. Sometimes neither. What are you?”
A boy. A man. Neither. “I’m Lucas.”
“Yes, I know.”
“So are you really old?” He’d been taught never to ask about vampire ages too. He was checking off all the buttons tonight.
“I’m old.” The vampire shrugged their bare shoulder. “Others are older than me. Others are younger. You’re fifteen.”
“I’m sure that seems like a little kid to you.”
The vampire cocked their head. “On the contrary, I find myself impressed by you, Lucas O’Hara. You have not panicked. You have not cried. I come in your room at nightfall and find you calmly reading the newspaper. Most impressive.”
The vampire was trying to lure him into thinking they were a friend.
