Vampire Debt - Supernatural Battle (Vampire Towers #2) - Kelly St. Clare Page 0,14
aren’t are the people you keep shoved down on the lower levels.”
I was about to detonate, and I really didn’t want to do that.
Kyros stepped closer. “Miss Tetley—”
Oily throbbing.
I held up a hand. “Tell me, Kyros. Why do you feel that way each time you say my name?”
Shock. Fear.
What a surprise. Kyros was hiding more bullshit.
“Something big, huh?” I said sarcastically. “Nothing new then.”
He turned away, and I took the opportunity to stride to the door.
His siblings watched in silence, eyes darting between us. Deirdre alone appeared bored by the proceedings.
“No is your final answer?” Kyros said in an even tone, still facing away.
I studied his back. “Sure is.”
“Then this conversation is over,” he stated.
Finally.
Pulling out Beast, I clicked my way back into Snake, noting the phone’s depleted battery.
Tonight seemed like the perfect fucking time to set that high score.
4
I dodged another sloppy missile thrown by the upstanding Bluff City citizen, Mr Triffz.
“Get the fuck off my property, you barrel-scraping hooker,” he bellowed.
Age showed in the fragility of his roar, but in the two minutes I’d known Mr Triffz, I’d realised he was anything but frail.
“I’m leaving!” I shouted back, dodging another missile as slop, from the throws he’d landed, slid from my hair.
He shook his cane in the air, reaching for the bucket by his feet. “Down with Live Right. You can’t put me in a home!”
If this was happening to anyone else, I’d be in stitches. Which, when I dived into the car a moment later, was what I discovered my crew doing.
Laurel hit the acceleration as soon as I was in.
Their laughter rang in my ears as I groaned at my new black jeans and sheer white blouse combo. Ruined. I might be able to salvage the jeans and white bra, but the blouse was a goner.
“He’s crazy,” I snapped, plucking the blouse away from my chest.
Josie clutched her stomach. “I’ve never seen a human run so fast in six-inch heels.”
Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.
“Is it safe for you to be driving?” I asked Laurel. The SUV swerved all over the road. Blood streaked the vampire’s face. Crying with laughter never looked so messed up.
She gasped for breath. “Didn’t want to risk getting compost on the car.”
“That’s what this is?” No wonder it smelled so bad. Perhaps I should just be thankful the slop wasn’t his shit.
From the middle seat, I stared through the windscreen, recounting the last ten minutes of my life. “It’s safe to say, Live Right won’t secure that house anytime soon.” A house in Pink would always be owned by a human. There was some comfort in that, even if he was a compost-throwing sonofabitch.
I leaned forward. “Hey, can we—?”
“Nearly there,” Laurel answered.
She pulled over outside Mrs Gaughton’s less than a minute later, and I gave up the battle of keeping my white bra from damage. It was over.
Mr Triffz had won.
This round.
Certain the lavender bush would have guzzled the water I gave it three days ago, I reached into my Elegance pack and pulled out the bottle of water I’d brought along.
I’d barely taken a step when the front curtain twitched and a flash of garish red lipstick appeared in the gap.
The window opened a crack. “Basilia? That you?”
“Sure is, Mrs Gaughton. Just here to water your lavender bush. I stopped by the other day and it was looking sad.”
The front door swung wide. “You came around? Why didn’t you knock?”
Because knocking wasn’t necessary when it came to Mrs Gaughton. I wonder if she had a rocking chair right at the front next to the window. “It was Sunday. I assumed you were at your extended lunch.”
There was no reply, but a beat later, the entrance was yanked open. The mid-sixties woman barrelled down the driveway.
“I forgive you,” she scolded, slightly out of breath. “And I told you to call me Mrs Hannah.”
“I apologise, Mrs Hannah.”
“Don’t apologise.” Her voice unfurled like a whip. “Just do it right next time.”
Yikes.
Laughter bubbled up my throat, accompanied by a sadness that was no mystery.
She took me in. Her red lipstick had leaked into a few of the wrinkles around her mouth, and the sight drew a smile to my lips.
“You roll in something before coming here?” She blinked as though seeing me for the first time.
Grimacing, I stared down the length of my splattered body. “Went to meet a client who thought I wanted to put him in a home.”
Mrs Gaughton patted my arm. “Can’t win ’em all, dear.”