The Real Werewives of Vampire County - By Alexandra Ivy Page 0,47
sure,” I said. “It’s daytime.”
“No”—she wrung her hands—“Thomas has been asleep for the last six years.”
“In the ground?” I’d heard of vampires who did that.
“Here at home,” she said. “He’s very tired.”
“Obviously.” I didn’t know what else to say.
Tia gave a small smile. “Thomas would approve of my going to Lucien. He’s a good man.”
“Maybe.” I was the one asking the questions, and fighting a massive headache. It still didn’t explain why she’d called someone like Lucien in. “Do you know anyone who wanted to hurt Sunny?”
“No.”
“Did she have any enemies?”
“No.”
Damn. I couldn’t hold on much longer.
“How well did you know her again?”
“We saw them often. Sunny’s husband, Gaston, is business partners with my Thomas.”
She glanced over at a series of framed photographs crowding the top of a white baby grand piano. “Sunny was part of Francine’s circle. There were four of them. Now there are three.”
I tried to examine the photographs, but couldn’t without breaking contact with Tia. So instead, I asked, “Aren’t you part of the group?”
She folded her hands in her lap. “I don’t know.”
“How can you not know?”
“I’m the omega.”
I sat back and tried not to imagine what kind of hell it was to be Tia. Omegas were the lowest of the low. They were the ones who ate last, groveled most, and acted as the general whipping boys, and girls. And that was in what shifter society considered a normal functioning pack. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be an omega under a vulture like Francine.
Even though my head was pounding, I held the connection. “You don’t have to be the omega.” Or anywhere near Francine. “You can break out of this.”
She shook her head. “Have you ever tried to break rank in a pack?”
I rubbed at my temples, willing the pain away. I had and I’d failed. I broke contact. She was telling the truth.
“Thank you, Tia,” I said, meaning every word. “I know you can help me.”
“Yes.” She brought a trembling hand to her forehead. “I’m sorry. I feel a little dizzy.”
Join the club. I rooted around in my teeny yellow purse for Advil. My fingers clutched the small bottle and I stopped. “You know, Tia. I’d like to help you, too.”
She flashed an indulgent smile. “First things first.”
“No kidding.” I popped two Advil.
She went to the kitchen and returned with a glass of mineral water. “Here,” she said, handing it to me.
Well, that was nice.
“Heather,” she began, “I think perhaps you may want to look at new eye makeup.”
“I just bought some.” Too bad I didn’t have it with me. I tossed my purse onto the ground. It would never fit. “I have a whole kit full of sparkly blue and red and yellow... .” Her eyes widened as I ticked them off, one by one. “What? No good?”
She faltered for a moment, deciding what to say. I already missed the truthful Tia, but frankly, my head couldn’t take any more. “You may want to consider a more subtle color palette.”
I looked around her living room. “What? Like white?”
She almost cringed. I could tell she wanted to. Good. Maybe I could bring this girl out of her shell. “Look, why don’t you show me? We’ll take a field trip.”
Tia broke out into a shy smile. “Yes.” She lowered her eyes. “If you really want to go with me.”
“Do you have a car?” I asked, because I didn’t. Well, unless I wanted to share this part of the journey with Vinny the chauffeur/ bunny /cross-dressing housekeeper.
“I do,” Tia said, reaching for an immense pink bag that could have easily fit a bowling ball or three.
“That’s in style?” I asked, imagining all the weapons I could stuff into that puppy.
“Sure,” she said, “this is the new Christian Louboutin Sylvia Large Softy Calf Hobo bag.” A flicker of doubt crossed her delicate features before she pressed ahead. “See how it matches my yellow and black round-toe T-strap shoes?”
“No.” I honestly didn’t.
Confidence crept into her tone. “You will.”
“Then lead the way, Kemo Sabe,” I said, whisking her to the door, Finnegan’s American Express card burning a hole in my pocket, “I can be the Eliza Doolittle to your Henry Higgins.”
She opened the passenger door of her white Mercedes convertible before she rushed around to open her own. “If you want, I could even coordinate some outfits for you.”
I popped two more Advil as I slid into the car. “You could match them for me and tell me what to wear: outfits A, B,