Chapter 3

Manrick

The line for the latest Diphone was out the door and halfway down the block. Manrick hadn't planned to come along with Archer to get a phone. Mostly because he didn't want a phone, and he had hoped Archer would forget the whole idea.

Foolish of him to think that would happen.

Archer Radcliffe was a new man—well, vampire. And Manrick had to admit, it was all Trixie's doing. The sassy young witch had certainly wooed Archer with her charms. Manrick supposed her smile didn't hurt, either. And he had to admit she had a few other assets Archer probably enjoyed.

But that didn't mean he needed a woman. Manrick was content to live in his own quarters in Archer's mansion. To spend his life serving his master. There was no time for a woman in his days, and he was too damned old to consider having a woman in his bed.

And yet, here he was, ten deep in this ridiculous line, only because Archer had been up at dawn, dressed and champing at the bit to head out while Manrick was trying to make the vampire his breakfast.

"Really." Manrick shook his head in disgust. "I can't believe so many people live and die by these phones."

"They're more than phones," Archer mumbled with a shrug. "They're handheld computers that can be used as phones."

"And what use do I have for either?"

"Well, we're going to find you a hot little ghoul to work the kinks out of your back, so there's that." Archer swung his head around and pierced Manrick with his intense gaze. Manrick simply snorted. "You do remember how to use all the equipment?" Archer dipped his chin and raised his eyebrows—a sharp look Manrick had seen thousands of times through the years, but seldom directed at him.

"Like riding a bike," he answered as the line shifted a bit. They ambled two or three steps before stopping again.

Archer chuckled. "Good answer." He nodded and swept his gaze over the long line of people in front of him. "You can download other apps, too."

Manrick watched a pair of orcs a few people in front of them in line share a kiss. He shivered in disgust and looked away. He was from an era where public displays of affection were not acceptable. Hard to change his way of thinking. Set in his ways and all that mumbo jumbo.

That's what the last ghoul he'd dated had told him when she moved on. Boring. Set in his ways. No one lingered under trees in cemeteries anymore, just waiting to eat someone's soul. Ghouls were into fresh kills now. Manrick ignored the memory of that roadkill making his stomach growl yesterday.

"Music apps."

Manrick liked music, but he didn't need a phone for that. Archer had an advanced sound-system in his mansion that piped music everywhere, even in Manrick's quarters. Even in Manrick's shower.

"Sports apps."

That piqued his interest, but he didn't flinch. Then again, didn't matter. Their bond allowed Archer to read his mind if he chose to. As far as Manrick knew, the vampire didn't do it often.

"You could check scores. Keep up on the news."

"Bowling scores?" he asked in what he hoped was a nonchalant tone.

Archer blinked at him silently and finally shrugged and nodded. "I would assume so. I don't follow any bowlers, so I'm not sure."

Okay, so Manrick wouldn't mind that. He had been a fan of the WNPBA for hundreds of years. His favorite bowler in the Whynot Professional Bowling Association was Gary Schroeder. The gargoyle had never, in hundreds of years, bowled anything less than a perfect game.

"You can download movies, too."

Manrick sighed. Now Archer was speaking his language. He liked movies. Old movies. The black and white movies from the fifties; he even liked the old silent films. Manrick would watch just about anything with the right snack and drink, after his master retired to his quarters in the late morning hours. He particularly liked Doris Day and Rock Hudson.

But his favorite movie of all time was Psycho. He watched it at least monthly.

The idea of downloading it and watching it the next time he took a vacation and flew somewhere was appealing. No more listening to the boring human chatter on the plane. Sometimes he feared he rolled his eyes so often at human women talking about fashion or books or anything, really, that they would get stuck in the back of his head. Then again, human men were no better. Manrick had long ago tired of hearing men brag on their money-making skills or their golf game.

And let's not forget mortal children and babies. Either yakking nonstop or screeching through an entire flight. Manrick could get some earbuds, pop them in, and escape into an old movie.

"Books, too," Archer continued.

Of course Manrick knew that. His master read on his Diphone often; if Manrick wasn't mistaken, Archer preferred the Swindled App for reading, but he used several. Still, the reminder that he could use the Diphone for reading, for all these things other than that dating app, suddenly made standing in this line less frustrating.

"And," Archer said with an uncertain shrug, "we'll find you a ghoul, and we could do some double dates again."

Manrick quirked a fuzzy gray eyebrow at him. "Seriously? After that last disaster? The Buttercup twins?"

"That was a long time ago." Archer shook his head and waved Manrick's question away. "Besides, you already know Trixie."

"True."

"She thinks you're funny."

Manrick shot Archer another sharp look as the line moved again.

"This makes me think of that night we went to that pub and stood in line to get in for over two hours."

"In Ireland?"

Manrick chuckled at the amused look on Archer's face.

"Why'd you wait so long to flash the fangs? The mortals scattered like vampires in light."

Archer narrowed his eyes at Manrick, but he only laughed as he looked around again. One thing about Whynot, the mortal population was pretty low. And those mortals who did live in Whynot were so used to the eclectic mix of magical, fantastical, and paranormal beings here they didn't flinch at a glimpse of vampire fangs or a ghoul snacking in the graveyards.

"I do miss messing with the mortals." Archer sounded wistful.

Eventually, the line moved enough that they were able to step inside the little retail store. Good thing, too, as the smells from the butcher shop two doors down in the strip mall were beginning to make Manrick hungry again. Inside the building, the line only curved once. Four customer service reps stood at their spots behind the counter, each of them talking to a customer.

Manrick swung his gaze over the creatures in line and did a double take when he saw a familiar face. The ghoul was looking the other way, but Manrick knew who she was. She was five hundred if she was a day. He would recognize her anywhere. Her pale, deathly complexion and her dull gray eyes turned heads everywhere she went. The last time he saw her was at his buddy's wedding a couple hundred years ago. As the bride, she'd been wearing a tattered dress and a tarnished tiara, and now, she wore a red blouse partially tucked into denim jeans. Her butt pockets shined like an eight-year-old girl had bedazzled them.

Manrick jerked his gaze away when she turned her head. But he had seen the way the denim fit her very slender body. Claudia Scott was still easy on the eyes. Too bad he just wasn't interested in dating anyone.