Page 32 of Dead & Breakfast
“Gladly.” Salvatore stood up and offered his wrists to the sheriff.
McMartin produced the key and clicked the cuffs open.
“Freedom!” Salvatore cried, pumping his fist in the air.
“Can I…have those back?” McMartin gestured to the cuffs still clasped in Salvatore’s hand.
Glancing between McMartin and Arthur, Salvatore leaned inand stage-whispered to the sheriff, “I thought maybe I’d keep them. A little souvenir of sorts…Besides, Arthur and I can probably get better use out of them—”
The sheriff tugged the cuffs from Salvatore’s grasp and turned on his heel, loping toward the door only to make a sharp turn in the direction of the restroom.
“What is the point of having a safeword if I never even get to use it?” Salvatore pouted and leaned into Arthur’s chest. “It’s so fun to say, too. Bourgeoisie.Bourgeoisie. Bourgeoisie.” He gave it a different inflection every time.
Thedore returned, shaking his head as if in disbelief. “That worked a bit too well. Good job.” Arthur searched for mocking in his words but could find none. “See you around, though hopefully not in the dairy aisle again.” With that, the werewolf was off.
Arthur returned Rumble to the backpack, then gripped Salvatore around the shoulders and began to steer him toward the front of the store, breath held. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the sheriff might turn around, mind changed. Some new evidence might come to light that would point toward vampires, or the town might turn against them regardless. After all, people like the mayor and the sheriff had never needed a reason to hate Arthur and Salvatore besides their simple existence.
“It’s going to be all right,” Salvatore said, tweaking Arthur’s nose. “Now, how shall we celebrate my newfound freedom?”
“Anything you want.” Arthur squeezed Salvatore’s hand, glad they had a few blocks before they’d recover the bicycle. He wasn’t ready to let go just yet.
“Oh goodie. Maybe we can crack into the Fresh Bites box, and I know the sheriff wouldn’t let me keep the cuffs as a souvenir, but we do have some at home and…”
Arthur just nodded as Salvatore carried on planning out theevening’s festivities. The day had quite gotten away from him, what with all the dramatics, and he’d forgotten to eat lunch. The late afternoon sun cast an orange glow across the downtown area. Soon it would be Salvatore’s favorite time of day—twilight, of course. Night was the domain of vampires, but Arthur couldn’t help but feel an eerie presence had crept in under the sun’s disregard. They’d found a reprieve, yes, but they were hardly out of the woods yet.
Chapter 9
When they returnedhome, the Iris Inn looked the same as ever, but Arthur felt it had an extra sparkle when Salvatore was in residence. Arthur stowed their tandem bike in the garage while Salvatore fussed over Rumble, cradling her against his chest like a newborn.
“You kept it all the same!” Sal exclaimed as he entered the lobby. “Hello, walls; hello, doors; hello, desk. Did you miss me as much as I missed you?”
“I doubt the desk did,” Arthur said. “You don’t spend much time behind it even when you are home.”
Salvatore ignored him. “You couldn’t have dusted it while I was gone?”
“I was a little busy getting you out of jail. Besides, that’s your job this week. Don’t you check the chore wheel?” Arthur glanced out into the living room for Nora—it wouldn’t do for her to overhear them arguing like this—but it seemed she hadn’t yet returned.
“I can’t be chained to some wheel of expectations, darling.”
“You were all for the chore wheel when it meant breaking out the glitter glue.”
“Glitter glue…” Salvatore said wistfully. “Would that all menial tasks included it.”
“Speaking of, the kitchen’s still a mess from this morning.” Arthur eyed Sal, attempting to gauge the likelihood of getting help with that today.
Surprisingly, Salvatore pitched in without a fuss, though he did it all while extolling the comparative virtues of various brands and colors of glitter glue. The fact that he wasn’t bemoaning his time in lockup anymore could mean one of two things: he’d forgotten all about it, or it was actually bothering him on a deeper level than his usual dramatics could soothe. Arthur was torn. If it was the former and he asked about it, he ran the risk of working Sal into an unnecessary fervor, but if it was the latter, he wouldn’t want to let Sal suffer alone. In the end, he decided to trust that his partner would confide in him if and when he was ready.
By nightfall, the Iris Inn was once again in tip-top shape for guests, and they’d both worked up an appetite. After unpacking and deconstructing the Fresh Bites box for recycling, Arthur portioned out the first bag of blood into matching tulip glasses.
Sal went to the pantry to retrieve a can of tuna for Rumble. “Don’t forget the—”
“Crazy straw. I know.” Arthur plopped a purple straw with plenty of twists and turns into Sal’s drink, garnishing his own with a long stick of celery.
“Oh, you’re both here!” Nora’s voice, too bright for the evening hour, wafted in from the entryway.
Arthur scrambled to hide the glasses. Though Nora hadn’t seemed put off by their vampirism, one could never be sure howsomeone would react to the physical consumption of blood—especially through a crazy straw.
“I do apologize, Nora. I haven’t started preparations for dinner just yet,” Arthur began, but Nora waved him off.
