Flipping the Bird (Shift Creek #1) - Carrie Pulkinen Page 0,64
way then.”
“I need to see your license and registration as well, good sir.” Watson widened his stance, clasping his hands in front of him and straightening his spine.
“He’s with me.” Gaston loomed toward the unshaken officer, and Ethan pulled him back.
“I didn’t bite anyone.”
Watson raised his brow and typed something on his phone. “You’re not licensed, then? That is a problem.”
Ethan blew out a breath. This was exactly why he didn’t come to the French Quarter during Mardi Gras. As if drunken tourists weren’t bad enough, every vampire constable within a hundred miles swarmed the festivities, hoping to catch other vamps behaving badly. And now the SWO had sent in their own troops?
“I have a license.” He pulled his wallet from his pocket and showed the identification to the officer. “But if I’m not biting, I don’t see why it would be a problem if I didn’t.”
Watson squinted at the ID and typed the information into his phone. “Haven’t you heard the new mandate?”
Ethan shook his head and glanced at his sire. Gaston rolled his eyes, threw his hands in the air, and stumbled toward a bench before plopping onto the seat.
“All vampires living within one hundred miles of a populated city must be licensed,” Watson said. “The grace period ends tomorrow.”
“And if they’re not?”
“Why, they’ll be staked, of course. Have a good evening, gentlemen.” Watson tipped his hat and strolled away.
“Did you know that?” Ethan sank onto the bench next to his sire.
Gaston waved an arm. “It may have been mentioned at a meeting of the elders last month.”
“Last month? And you didn’t bother to tell me?”
“You receive the Magistrate’s email newsletter, do you not? It’s his first attempt at harnessing twenty-first-century technology. Rather bold, if you ask me.”
Ethan clenched his teeth. “It probably went to my spam folder.” Leave it to him to miss an email from the ruler of supernatural Louisiana. He’d have to whitelist the Magistrate’s address.
“Precisely why he should resume sending paper letters. The post office is much more reliable.”
“It’s actually not.” He fisted his hands on his thighs. “You could have mentioned the new mandate. It seems like a big deal, getting staked for not having a license, even if you’re not biting.”
“You have a license. Trained by the best damn vampire to ever walk this continent, I might add.” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “You haven’t sired anyone, so you’ve no one to teach. Our bases are covered. It’s of no concern.” He opened one eye. “You haven’t sired anyone, have you?”
Ethan let out a sardonic laugh. “I never will.” He couldn’t even think about cursing another human to this endless macabre lifestyle.
“No harm done, then.” Gaston straightened. “I’m thirsty. Let’s find a tequila bar. I’m in the mood for some Cuervo-tainted O negative.”
Ethan rolled his eyes. “We’d better get you home before the sun comes up, old man. You’re drunk.” He reached for Gaston’s arm, but the senior vampire jerked from his grasp.
“I’m not drunk! You’re boring. If I’d known what a bore you would be, I never would have turned you.”
Ethan’s jaw ticked. “If I’d known what a drunk you were, I never would have let you.” He ground his teeth, quelling the ancient memories. “You promised to end my suffering.” Now, he’d have to live with the pain for all eternity.
“And I did.” Gaston rose to his feet. “You were a lonely, miserable wretch when I found you. You were out of your mind, nearly killed when you stumbled into traffic, and if I hadn’t been the one who’d run you over, you’d be an invalid now. Or dead.”
“You should have let me die.”
“But you wanted to live.” He took Ethan’s face in his hands. “I gave you a choice, and you chose life, my friend. It’s a gift. Embrace it.”
He looked into his sire’s ice-blue eyes, and the memory of that fateful night twenty-five years ago came into crisp focus. Gaston was right. He didn’t want to die then any more than he wanted to now. He’d only wanted the pain to stop.
Gaston patted his cheek. “I can ask the Magistrate for permission to stake you, but I’ve grown rather fond of you.”
Ethan sighed, resigned. “I don’t want to die.”
“That’s my boy.” Gaston wrapped an arm around his shoulders and guided him down the riverbank, toward Jackson Square. “The emotional pain will heal with time. You’re young, and you have your entire undead life ahead of you. Now, how about that tequila shot?”
Ethan chuckled. “One