Vampires Never Get Old - Zoraida Cordova Page 0,80
board’s perimeter, and a beautifully drawn square held a circle in the center.
Her eyes cut to the door. She knew she should go back to the party. Her mama would be looking for her and she’d get a tongue-lashing for wandering off. But she started to clean each disk—they boasted little peacocks and doves and she couldn’t help herself. She lined up the little Carrom chips on both sides as if May were standing across from her. Despite being younger than her, May had always won, landing her ten Carrom disks in the pockets first.
A servant pushed a chai cart into the room. “Care for tea?”
Bea nodded.
On the sandalwood tea table, the woman set out sticky, blood-soaked dates and a sanguine beignet doused in sugar. Lifting the kettle, she poured the steaming hot liquid into a small tumbler. She took out a vial. Blood. “Half or whole?”
“Whole,” Bea replied.
The servant opened the spice box and dropped scoops of poppy, fennel, and nutmeg into the vial, meant to sweeten. She stirred the spiced blood into the liquid, and it went an inky black.
“Thank you.” Bea took a sip, her tongue flaring as it extracted the blood.
The woman nodded and left the room.
One of the terrace doors opened.
“Well, well,” a voice called out.
Bea glanced up to find J.B.
“I didn’t know anyone was going to be in here,” he said.
Bea eyed him suspiciously, the tug of his presence strong now that they were alone.
“Have you decided on my proposition?” he asked with a clever smile, revealing a set of dimples. He moved closer to the game board. The tea churned in Bea’s belly. “Care to wager?”
“What you’ve heard about Eternal women is untrue,” Bea replied. “It would be a waste.”
“How do you know?” His eyebrow lifted.
“I’ve been one for two hundred years. I think I’d know about this.”
“Are you sure?” He grinned, revealing the tiniest sliver of a gap between his front teeth. “How can you know everything?”
“How can you be so certain?”
“I’m never certain about anything.” He took a seat opposite her. “Witnessing death does that to you.”
All the things Mama had said about the Shadow Barons stacked one on top of the other, like the layers of a crepe cake.
“They will always pull the Eternal toward rest.”
“They leave their mark.”
“They aren’t able to resist sweeping them away.”
“You’re afraid,” J.B. challenged.
“I am not.”
“Then let’s play.” He motioned at the board. “I win, we put it to the test. One kiss. You win, you can ask me a question. I can feel them humming through you.”
Bea jumped as if he could hear the loop of questions spinning in her head. She nibbled her bottom lip. Her eyes cut to the door again, knowing she should return to the party, knowing her sisters and mama were probably panicked and looking for her. But her eyes found his again, his challenge glinting. “You must have dozens of women wanting to kiss you. Even other Eternal ones. You don’t really need one from me.”
“Maybe. But I’ve never had the chance to kiss someone who looks as beautiful as you do.”
She blushed. “Your false flattery will get you nowhere.”
“I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting a Turner woman before. Let alone getting a kiss from one. I have to take the chance.”
“We’re enemies.”
“That makes it even more interesting.” J.B. removed his top hat and his beautiful locs fell over his shoulders. “But I’ve never truly believed it. Yes, we exist on opposite sides of life and death. You should be dead. I can take you to the land of the dead at any moment. You can feel it.”
Bea could, but she didn’t want to admit it. Every few minutes that deep pull would tug at her. The warning drumming through her. She reached for her tea and gulped down a giant too-hot sip.
“But you can also affect me. One bite and I’m shut out. My abilities gone.”
Mama had never told her this. Maybe she didn’t know herself.
“The stakes are even, so do you accept?”
Bea knew she should say no. Her mouth opened to refuse, but her hand extended. “If you insist.”
A full smile consumed his face. J.B. motioned for Bea to start first.
She thumped one of her Carrom chips easily into a near pocket and smiled triumphantly.
“Lucky,” he said.
“You know it’s possible that I could pocket all my men before you get to take a single shot.”
“Yes,” he said. “The perils of this game—not even getting a turn or chance to choose your own fate. But it’s