27. EARL GREY VERSUS THE SADIST

EARL GREY VERSUS THE SADIST

A thunderous knock sounded at my front door, and I spun towards it without thinking about the cup in my hand; Earl Gray tea splashed on my fingers, burning horribly. My stomach instantly flew into my throat; I tasted pennies and the acidic tang of too much caffeine and fear, real, visceral, primitive fear. I'd been waiting for this, for him, all day, pacing, drinking cup after cup of tea, texting Steven over and over and again, "Is everything okay? Are the girls okay?" And every time, he'd replied, "Yes, they're still just fine." I gripped the mug tighter, letting the heat bite into my palms.

The pain clouded everything, and it was all I could think about. Padding cautiously across the kitchen to the entranceway, I focused on the pain, on my steps, letting my mind cling to those things until I reached the front door.

My body siezed up when the knock sounded again. I took a slow, deep breath and, reluctantly, opened the door. The hinges creaked like they were alerting me of danger, howling for me to keep the door closed. Callum stood on my "Welcome" mat, a crooked smile on his lips. My breathing hitched, but I did my best to refocus on the pain in my fingers. I lifted my eyebrows in feigned surprise as if to say, oh, hello, what are you doing here? And I was surprised for three reasons. One, this man was a monster, a murderer, and an immortal former Roman lord. Two, even though I'd already seen him in Andras's memories, I hadn't been close enough to realize just how handsome he was, but part of me expected a sinister-looking monster, a shark-toothed gremlin, a thing of nightmares. Instead, Callum looked like any handsome Mediterranean man with dead psychopathic brown eyes. He wasn't nearly as beautiful as Andras, but handsome just the same. He wore another perfectly tailored suit, gray this time, and a black skull cap.

I steadied my breath. Forced my body to convey calm, curious, relaxed. It was no small thing.

"Hello? Can I help you?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady, trying not to wince from the burns, no doubt branding my fingers.

"Hello, ma'am," Callum drawled, his accent thick but difficult to place. Unlike Andras's or Nadia's, it wasn't modern British, but something else, something older.

"I'm terribly sorry to drop by like this. But I've heard that you're a very talented painter, and I'd love to commission something for my mother, you see, it's her ninetieth birthday and, well, I'd love a portrait of her with her precious Yorkie."

I nearly laughed. A Yorkie? He couldn't do better than that?

Callum's lips curled up at the corners, but the smile never reached his eyes, which were now dark, piercing, and as endless as the universe. He looked like he'd forgotten how smiling worked. Even if I hadn't known who and what he was, I would have been terrified by whatever he was trying to do with his face. It was the grin of a murderous creature wearing the skin of a man and about as kind and friendly as a mountain lion toying with a meal. I pressed my hands around the mug, harder and harder, fighting against the urge to curse or cry out. Clearing my throat gently, I did my best performance of a casual conversation among strangers. Just an artist and a potential client, nothing more, nothing at all out of the ordinary.

"I'm so sorry," I willed my face into a mask of disappointment, "I'm not able to take any new commissions until after the new year." I swallowed hard, shifting my weight from one leg to the next, willing myself to focus, just focus, a little while longer.

"How unfortunate," Callum muttered, his deep, soulless eyes bore into mine, then flicked behind me into my house, then back to me where they lingered as if trying to hollow me out for a few heartbeats before raking across my body, pausing for a second on my hands. He sighed through his nose.

"Again," I went on, "I'm not taking any work right now, but—"

"—Clever girl," he said, his voice emotionless.

Callum leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest. "Is that what Andras told you to say?" he asked, a hateful smile dancing at the corners of his lips. Just as instructed, I pictured Andras's face and, to my horror, accidentally slipped into the memory of me kissing him. I stilled as Callum flinched but quickly recovered and forced myself to think of the photo of the cabin and Andras saying, "Come here, and we'll keep you safe." I know he saw it there in my thoughts because he glowered at me and chuckled, a note of smugness in his low laugh. I felt the pressure under my feet and concentrated on that unbearable burning sensation in my fingers.

Callum shook his head, clicking his tongue against his teeth. Then he vanished in a blur of wind.

With one hand, I slammed the front door and locked it, then set the mug on the floor, shaking the heat out of my palms, cursing and fighting back the urge to vomit. I continued to focus on my feet, on the pressure there, as I ran to the kitchen to grab my phone from the counter to text Andras, "He was just here. I did what you told me and he left." Then I sprinted back to the foyer closet to tug on my running shoes. Slinging my overnight bag over my shoulder, I snatched my keys from the counter and paused just long enough to shiver at the thought of what I was about to do. Maybe it was safer to stay here in my home where Callum couldn't get in. Maybe it was smarter, too, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was meant to go. A force I couldn't explain tugged me toward him. Powerless human or not, I wanted to help him, and when Callum fell, I needed to see it with my own eyes. Opening the door, I scanned the trees, roofs, and yard for any sign of Callum, then jogged towards my car. As I waited for the doors to open, an SUV slowly crept down my street and stopped behind me. I froze. Hands visibly shaking, I turned slowly as a dark-tinted window rolled down.

Janet, one of the PTA moms from our children's school, poked her head out of the window, grinning, her bright whites glistening like new porcelain. From a toilet, I thought.

"Danny! I'm so glad I caught you! We haven't received your donation for the valentines celebration, so I just thought that since I'm in the neighborhood, I'd swing by to grab it."

An obnoxious rhythmic base thrummed from her speakers.

I breathed in and out, trying to shove down the growing anxiety that told me to drive, drive, drive to the mountains, to get to Andras, to get there now.

"I'm sorry, Janet, I've just been swamped, and it somehow slipped my mind. I'll take care of it tonight when—"

"—Oh, I don't mind waiting," she said.

I could feel my blood pressure rising. The rage from everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours–no, the past few months–with Steven and the burglar, and now this nightmare with Callum, my kids being in danger again , and Andras being a vampire–it all crashed into me again, and again, and again, until I couldnt take it anymore.

Hands in fists, my chin lowered as I glared into her light blue eyes, auburn hair, and chunky highlights,

"I said I'm busy, Janet."

Janet's mouth dropped open and her eyes went wide with disbelief.

I held her stare, almost hoping that she'd be stupid enough to push it. I wanted her to push, to take the bait, practically dared her to, so I'd have somewhere to direct the rage engulfing me. Instead, she gasped dramatically before speeding off into the suburbs. I climbed into my car, trembling as I gripped the steering wheel and floored the gas, heading for the hills.