Chapter 5

Manrick

When they left the strip mall, Archer went back to his estate. But Manrick had things to do. So, with his new Diphone tucked in his pocket, he drove Archer's sleek black Porsche to the market to pick up a few groceries. His plan, though Archer had no idea, was to fix a nice, romantic dinner for his master and Trixie and then slip away to his quarters to watch a movie on the phone. Sure, he had all the most recent technology in his quarters, thanks to his generous master, but as he marched the aisles of the fresh market, he found himself almost giddy with the idea of relaxing later and playing with the phone.

Manrick had planned an Italian seafood stew, but when he found out Trixie was allergic to seafood, he had to pivot. Now, he was planning a Sardinian stuffed eggplant. And having trouble finding eggplant that wasn't overly ripe. Of course, while he would prefer the eggplant, or any fruit for that matter, overly ripe and nearly rotten, Archer did not. He enjoyed the freshest of any food offered.

"Excuse me."

Over the frustration about standing in line for his phone, but now irritated at the lack of fresh eggplant, Manrick was in no mood for rude, rambunctious shoppers. Someone had clipped his backside with a cart. He turned with a frown, intending to scold the woman. Odds were, she was a youngster, running gangbusters in public places. But Manrick was speechless when he found himself staring directly into Claudia Scott's eyes for the second time in less than an hour.

"Claudia." He nodded.

"Oh." She gasped softly and covered her mouth, apparently just as surprised to bump into him again after all these years. "I'm so sorry. I glanced at my phone?—"

"You're not supposed to text and drive," he reminded her with a nod at her nearly empty shopping cart. Only two apples, a box of crackers, and a package of newborn diapers occupied the cart.

Newborn diapers? Okay, Claudia looked more than good, for a ghoul of her age. And yes, Manrick was well-aware that tacking on the latter was offensive to womankind everywhere. On the other hand, Claudia was several hundred years old. At one point did one become old?

Noticing him checking out her selections, specifically the diapers, she folded her arms over her chest—how did she have the body of a 1950s pinup girl, all the curves in all the right places? First of all, as a ghoul, shouldn't she be thin, a little bit gaunt, even? And second, how at a hundred plus years old, were her breasts so perky?

Manrick jerked his gaze away, afraid she had caught him staring. For Pete's sake, she had been married to his friend.

"I'm in a hurry," she told him with an apologetic smile. "On my way to visit my nephew and his wife. And he texted me to grab a few groceries."

Manrick glanced at the cart skeptically. That could explain the diapers, but a couple of apples and a box of crackers were staples her nephew and his wife needed?

"Briena just had a baby yesterday," Claudia prattled on. "She'll be home from the hospital later tonight. Gunther wanted a few snack items."

"Boy or girl?" Manrick asked her. Had he ever noticed the way her eyes sparkled? Probably not. She had been dripping diamonds from every part of her body back in the days when she was married to Harold.

Then again, Manrick thought her eyes could outshine the Hope Diamond.

"Oh, no," Claudia shook her head. "Gunther's really changed his diet. He rarely eats any souls anymore?—"

Manrick laughed softly. Gunther might not live to see five hundred if that were the case, but it wasn't what he meant by his question.

"The baby?"

"Oh." Claudia tilted her head back and cut loose with a big, hearty laugh. Manrick swept his gaze over the long, pale column of her throat. She had been young and beautiful when Harold found her at the bowling alley, partying with a group of banshees. Now, though, maturity and wisdom had settled into her skin, her smile, taming the youth and beauty.

She was sexy.

Again, Manrick looked away. He watched another shopper step up and select an eggplant without testing it for ripeness. Swallowing hard with distaste, he glanced wearily back at his deceased friend's widow.

"Girl," she answered now. "I had to run to the store earlier to get a new phone. Dropped mine yesterday. Zilla stepped on it and shattered the screen."

"Zilla?" He tipped his head with a frown. Her new husband?

"Great Dane," she told him. "Good dog. Just goofy. Anyway, had to get a phone. Needed to pick a few things up for Gunther and Briena. And I need to go collect Zilla from my neighbor when I leave the hospital."

Manrick nodded. "Congratulations on the great-niece."

"Thank you, Manrick." Her smile was sincere, happy, rather than that dazzling beauty queen smile she used to have. Manrick decided he liked this new older smile better. "It was good to see you."

"You, as well," he agreed as she pushed her cart away. Manrick turned his attention back to the eggplants and selected one randomly, ready to get back to Archer's mansion.

"Manrick?"

"Yes?" He leaned over to gently set the eggplant in his cart, eyes on Claudia as he did so.

"Do you…" She shrugged. "Do you have a number? Maybe we could get a drink and catch up sometime?"

Manrick slammed a mental wall up in his mind before Archer could possibly get an inkling this was happening. His master didn't read his mind often, and it was extremely rare for him to do so when they weren't even in the same location. But just in case. Manrick didn't want Archer asking about Claudia.

"I do." He nodded and watched her slide her Diphone from the blingy butt pocket of her jeans. Thumbs poised over the screen, she lifted only her eyes to watch and wait for him to recite his number.