Isla, Still Thirsty (wink)

Gliding about my apartment in a lavender, silk bathrobe made me feel like an English governess wandering wistfully upon the moors. It was both a gothic daydream and the result of my complete lack of energy (or cash flow) to lug all my sweaters to the laundromat. You know the vibe.

On the coffee table, Grumpkin pawed at the fingerbone. "Excuse me, sir. No."

I plucked the bone out from his claws with my thumb and forefinger. Yeah, I could get within six feet of this little doohickey, so what? You can be down a single bone in your pinky finger and not be a corpse. Least, that's the general line of arguing my lawyer did when negotiating the terms of my Contraband Curse.

That girl from the other night had brought it with her as a focusing object. The ghost to whom it was once attached seemed none too pleased with being conjured, but perhaps I could give it another shot. Make the ghost tell me more about the girl and track her down and oh, I don't know, threaten to turn her zombified butt over to the authorities unless she gave me my money back? She's a Tourist. She doesn't need to know that turning her over would only implicate myself for a crime I cannot afford to be caught having committed.

Or I could just un-resurrect her.

"Um, good evening?"

I yelped, fumbling the bone like a bad juggler, until I finally managed to drop it into the bottom of my distended sleeve. With it tucked away I spun and found the dark-haired vampire from downstairs standing in my threshold. He jabbed a thumb at the sign swinging on my door: Come In, We're Open. It was a cheap, plastic thing I always meant to replace with something more on brand and mystique.

"You are the psychic?" said the vampire, taking an awkward, tentative step inside.

I tensed. Vampires weren't supposed to be able to enter a home without an invitation, but my home was also my business. The Come In sign was a clever loophole in the mythos, apparently. The vamp looked just as surprised as I did that he could just stroll on in without a care.

"Yeah," I croaked.

"I've got some questions for you, miss...?"

Oh, fairy farts, he was a customer. I blew a sigh of relief. That's good. For a moment I thought he was here to eat me—I mean, you know, drink my blood. I took a deep breath and tried to shake out some tension on the exhale. It didn't work. Alright, one crisis solving venture at a time then. Do it for the rent, girlfriend.

"Benvenuto. The stars welcome you, stranger. I am Madame Margherita. If you're religious, I suggest you say whatever prayers you need before we begin."

"Appreciate it, Madame, but all the collective deities stopped answering my prayers a long time a—oh."

His smirk evaporated, replaced by one of those stunned-deer-in-headlights-looks, as his eyes finally fell from my face to my robe. My breezy robe. The vamp didn't blink for a while, but I noticed his Adam's apple bobbing and the outline of his tongue rolling around in his mouth.

I couldn't help but shiver as I pulled a slipping sleeve back over my shoulder.

With that, the spell broke, and the vampire shyly turned his attention away from me and toward a clearly fascinating wall. "Do you need a moment?"

And give him a moment to second guess spending some cash here? Nope.

"Nonsense. A diviner of the psychic arts is always prepared to be a conduit between worlds."

"Does that mean you always greet clients dressed like, well, nothing at all?"

A flush creeped into my cheeks.

"The spirits don't always afford me the luxury of a costume change, but," I sat, slow and deliberate, in my velvet chair, kicking one bare leg out from folds of silk as I crossed them. The silver anklet dangled against my heel. It drew his attention away from a thrift store painting. "I'll let you consider yourself lucky for scoring such an intimate session."

His eyes lingered just shy of what I'd consider too long on my naked leg.

"Please, sit," I said, lighting a cigarette and gesturing to the chaise. "What can a glimpse beyond the veil do for you tonight?"

Vamp sat. I held in a giggle as he nearly lost his balance on that wobbly chaise. But he stuck the landing. Maybe he noticed my struggle, as he offered me one of those sly, lopsided grins I'm sure all the girls go ga-ga bananas for in the vamp clubs.

I mean, heck, I would.

"I like your collection," he said, noting the pale pink wall behind me. It was covered floor to ceiling in portraits, mirrors, art pieces of shipwrecks and floral landscapes and fat cats, most of which came from thrift shops and yard sales. There were a few protective enchantments and sigils among the cacophony. My family photos too, of course.

"So do I," I said, glancing over my shoulder at one of my silver backed mirrors.

Some interior design magazine said mirrors make a room look bigger. And then some witch magazine said the silver in it would ward off evil spirits. And then, some rumor I didn't totally follow, said that it was the silver in the backs of mirrors that prevented vampires from seeing their reflections. From the mirror, my own face stared back at me, and the space over my shoulder showed an empty room from here to my door. Though I couldn't see his reflection, I knew the vampire could see mine, and I winked into the glass. Or, well, tried to wink. I'm not good at winking. It was probably just a blink. Oh, jeez, my makeup was smudged as all heck.

Turning back to him, I noticed he'd tensed, rubbing his hand along his chin and staring at that mirror.

"You're not paying me a hundred an hour to admire the art, now are you?" I said.

"By the hour?" he whistled. "I must've stepped into a real class parlor. This is a nice touch, too," the vamp tapped the crack my forehead made in my crystal ball. "Didn't think legit psychics used these."

How would he know? Real psychics, mediums, whatever you wanted to call them, were allegedly so few and far between the jury was still out on whether they existed at all, even in Society. Most were proven to be human scam artists. And sure, witches held a variety of spells in their repertoire, but the powers to cast a spell or craft a potion were ones that I did not possess, (my vibe was less bippity-boppity and more boo). Nobody just walked around going 'I see dead people' all the time. Not unless, of course, they were a necromancer. And, as you now know, necromancy is illegal.

I took a long drag from my cigarette and blew the smoke in his face. "I didn't think legit vampires drank coffee."

The chaise made a terrible scratching noise against the floor as the vampire wobbled in it. Evidently, he was struggling to get comfortable. With shoulders and an ass that tight, of course he would be.

He punched a pillow smooshed against his hip. "Am I that obvious?"

"Iced mocha in January."

A slight smirk tugged at his lips. "You pay attention. Here I was thinking it was my aura."

Oh! This was a challenge. I clocked him. Now he was trying to draw my own creaturedom out of me. Well, I'm not going to spill my beans that easy. Vampires have such a thing about control. Bet it made him uncomfortable, to know I recognized what he was and he couldn't see me for what I am – necromancy isn't popular, he probably just has nothing to compare my vibe to.

"If you're here to mock the divine arts then you're just wasting my time and your cash, okay? Don't think I haven't heard it all before."

I've heard of vampires being the overly romantic types. Was he looking to channel a dearly departed love? Hmm, this vampy didn't exactly strike me as the type unwilling to let his little Yorkie cross the rainbow bridge just yet... nor am I sensing he has a referral.

"No, Mad—"

"Just Margherita is fine," I interrupted.

"—da-rita." For a moment, the vamp squeezed his eyes shut as a pained look of embarrassment crossed his pale face. "Like I said, I just have a few questions."

"Here to ask if a long-passed lover misses you from the great beyond?"

The vampire ran his tongue over his fangs. After a moment, with a decision apparently made, he leaned in closer, folding his hands between his spread knees. Oh, wow, well, those were certainly tight jeans.

"What if a lover isn't so much as beyond, just... out of reach?"

I fought hard to keep these tired shoulders from sagging.

Okay, I admit it, I'm not proud of the sudden jolt of disappointment that rushed through me. Which was stupid. He wasn't here for a snack, nor was I in any position to be distracted by his perfect smile or that one curl of hair escaping the pomade or how he hasn't closed his legs yet, good heck, man.

"For, a week? Maybe?" he continued, voice rising in pitch. "And she isn't answering her phone?"

Hello, yikes, red flags. I balanced my cigarette between my fingers and took his cold hand in both of mine.

"Darling, I'm afraid to say that I'm sensing she just doesn't want to see you right now, and I don't really want to use the mystical powers of the Netherworld, or whatever, to spy on your girlfriend."

The vamp choked. "What? No. She isn't my girlfriend. Did I say she was my girlfriend? Uh, no, she's not. I hadn't meant to imply that."

I turned over his hand.

"Oh, honey, no paramour? Shucks. Let's take a look at this love line then." I traced the curve of his lifeline with my little finger over his palm. "See here, it's this line," I showed him the path my pinky traced. Which was, as you may have guessed, utter nonsense seeing as how I don't know squat about palmistry. "Someone else will come into your life soon. Where you won't expect it, of course, but the change will be a welcome, exciting one. I can, uh, read your entrails too. If you're into that sort of thing."

(Now that, I actually can do.)

I peeked up at him. He wasn't watching my pinky, but the bend in my neck. The corner of his lip twitched, revealing just a hint of fang. Goosebumps broke out along my legs, which he saw, eyes carefully tracking their journey from heel to knee to where our hands were knotted between us.

He yanked his away. For a moment I thought he was going shove a palm up to his nose to catch a whiff of the hand cream I'd inevitably rubbed off on him. He didn't. At the last second, the vamp swerved and dipped his hand into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a little notepad and pencil.

"Enough. We both know this is a charade."

My blood pressure spiked (the vamp's pupils dilated).

"What charade? I am merely a conduit—"

"And I'm merely an investigator trying to find a missing person."

"What now?"

"You've heard it all, right? What about the one with the missing barista?" the vamp flipped through his tiny notepad. "According to information I got from her coworker downstairs, Lily Perez came to see you before she disappeared. Now what can you tell me about that?"

The room spun. I gripped tight to the arms of my chair to keep from falling off. Thursday. Pixie dust. The girl. The dying, dead, not dead girl. She's his barista? She's my barista. Now that he'd said it, I could see her clearly, bangs smashed beneath a ballcap, frothing milk and picking syrup out from under her nails. How the heck had I not recognized her before? Burn it all at the stake, I've been had.

Nazira said my anklet had just a blep the other night. Had that blep triggered a Magistrate investigator to give it an Inquiry after all? How much did this vamp know?

I puffed my cigarette and shrugged.

"Oh, come on, now, Margherita," the vamp pinched the bridge of his nose. "You can do better than that. This whole song and dance routine and the moment the music changes you forget all the steps. Disappointing, honestly."

"Sorry, babe, I'm just not sure I know what you're talking about."

"You're not sure of your own clients?"

"I'm not sure you have a warrant."

The vampire stiffened. His eyes narrowed, the blue flashing brighter for just a moment under those thick, furrowed brows. I fought back a chill and looked away. The eyes. Don't look them in the eyes, girl. "Why? What are you afraid I'd find if I had one?"

I stood, shaking, looking at his trim waist and hoping I didn't say anything stupid like: "I think you would have to come back with it to find out."

Yeah. Like that.

Screw me, I didn't have time to think up any good lies for this yet. I made it past Nazira. This wasn't fair. Abort, damn it! Get him out of here!

I pointed to the door.

The vampire stood up as well, hands raised in surrender. So fast he knocked me off balance and I was flung back into my chair.

"Woah, wait, I'm not Magistrate! That was bluff. I'm not here to arrest you, Margherita. My name is Greg Vasilescu, I'm a Private Investigator. I've been hired to find Lily Perez. She hasn't been to work in a few days and my client is very, uh, concerned for her wellbeing. I just want to know if she's okay."

A private eye? Cut the crap. This is either the lamest Magistrate ruse or—oh he pulled a business card out of his wallet and dropped it onto my coffee table. As he tucked the wallet back into his pocket, I noticed the leather gun holster. No Magistrate would carry a gun. It was too pedestrian. Jackass nearly gave me a heart attack.

I was fuming. I could feel the heat in my cheeks and heaving chest. Vamp could clearly see it too. Those eyes of his kept investigating a little too south of my chin. Though to be honest I wasn't sure if it was my jugular or my tits he was staring at. Not sure which I would have preferred either.

"Well she left here in mostly one piece," I grumbled. "Now I think you should—"

He saw it. He saw me going for his weakness. Of course he wouldn't let me rescind my invitation to enter. How could I have been so stupid to think I could be quicker than a vampire?

In an instant, he was on me. Well, not really on me (shucks). But he leapt forward, caging me between the velvet and his body without actually touching me. Save for one soft finger he laid gently across my lips.

"Shh. Please," he guided my gaze up to his with that finger. "Stop. I—listen I'll leave, promise, and I'll pay you well, but I have got to know what in sweet hell you mean by mostly in one piece. Please."

"No can do. I'm sure you vibe with client confidentiality and all that."

He sighed. "I'm sorry about this then, but I think it might be best if you just relaxed for me. Just a little bit. Please, Margherita."

His voice was soft and his eyes so blue. I was floating. Bobbing up and down as if in the ocean, a sudden weightlessness infecting my limbs. The tension in me relaxed. He felt it too. And smiled. I saw his fangs, gleaming in my neon light, and felt a knot of pressure begin to pool low in my belly.

"That's a good girl," he purred.

A shock of warmth shot through me.

That felt nice. I could be a good girl for him. Just for a little while, like he said. And then he can sink those teeth into me...

I shimmied in my chair and felt the soft, silky sleeve of my robe slip farther and farther and deeper down, just as I felt myself slipping deeper in his gaze—

"Oh, for hell's sake, that was fast," he muttered. I whimpered as the comfort of his eyes released me. I felt chilled. Downright cold. "Oh, no, fix that, will you?" he said, practically craning his neck to avoid looking at me and my –

I tugged the collar of the robe closed. Tits. That was a close call. He nearly saw my clavicle. I bet he's one of those regency dandy vamps all worried about the prim and properness of being caught in a scandalous position with woman revealing too much neckline. Seriously, the robe hadn't slipped that far down my chest at all. Only enough off the collar to reveal the lines of ink decorating my shoulders.

This really isn't the exact scenario I had in mind any time I imagined being half naked alone in my apartment with a vampire, either, if you were wondering.

Vamp cleared his throat. "Okay. Um. Margherita I need you to tell me when Lily Perez, the barista, came to see you."

"Mmm last Thursday," I mumbled, the words feeling sticky and honey sweet on my tongue.

"Really? And what did she seek your mystical guidance for?"

No. Not that. I wouldn't bite at that. Dug my own grave deep enough at this point, thanks very much.

Sensing I was no longer so exposed, the vampire turned back to me.

"Please?" he cooed.

Oh, but, he was so cute. His voice soft. Like his hand. His hand stroking mine. Stroking away all those sticky, bad thoughts, leaving nothing but this blissful, foggy feeling in their place.

No. This was bad. I needed to guard myself. He could report me to the Magistrate. Thoughts of the Magistrate caused such a heavy headache to pound between my eyes. It hurt. Every thought hurt, come to think of it. It felt so much better to let all those pesky, troublesome thoughts just slip away—

The vampire gently tapped my cheek. "Stay with me, here, Margherita. Please? Oh, fangs¸ old boy what you do?"

He wiped a dribble of drool from the corner of my mouth with the pad of his thumb (if my limbs didn't feel so heavy I'd have darted my tongue out to lick it). "You know what, forget it, Margherita. It's okay. Be a good girl and just give me a blink, or something, will you? Anything to let me know you still have motor skills. Sweet hell."

His voice wasn't soft anymore. It was high pitched. Shrill. He stood over me, running a hand through his hair till all the curls bounced out of place. Those pretty eyes gleamed. Creased with... what was that, worry? The vampire worried about me. How nice.

I guess it couldn't be that bad, right? To tell him. Just him. If he could lean just a little bit closer. Just enough to touch me. Just his pretty eyes and his cute mouth. His fangs, he probably didn't even notice, but they were growing. Slowly poking out over his bottom lip. He could poke me with those and I wouldn't even be mad about it.

Not nearly as mad as I was when he asked me about Lily. What was it? Something about her pieces.

"I have her finger."

"You have what?"

"You have pretty teeth."

I reached up at him and his pretty teeth.

"Careful with those," he nudged my hand away. "I bite—"

"Kinky."

The vamp flung himself backward. He tripped and fell into the chaise. In the same moment, my cigarette stub burned down to my fingers. A bright, burst of pain surged through me. The burn seared away the fog in my brain. It hurt. The burn and my brain.

I smashed the remaining stub in my teacup. My hands shook. Head spun. Had he—did that vamp just—what an asshole! Taking advantage of his pretty—his stupid—his—heck with him. I'm so screwed. I can't believe I just gave away that there's a finger in my apartment to some dumb looking vampire, still trying to retract his fangs back into his stupid, pretty mouth.

He got me. I thought I was doing so well... how the heck did he get me?

Well, he was very attractive.

I stood. My feet were as wobbly as that damn chaise. The vampire reached an arm out, ready to catch me if I fell, but not close enough to touch. "You should probably sit down."

"You should probably get out. Parlor's closed. You're not welcome anymore."

"Wait!" he yelled, his legs already robotically launching him off the chaise at an awkward angle. His expression tensed, almost pained. His limbs shook as he clearly fought for them to stay put. Nope. It wasn't happening. On their own accord, the vampire's legs carried him backward. Grumpkin joined in chasing him, darting out from one of his hidey boxes and hissing. Frantically, the vamp took out his wallet once more and ripped some bills from it, tossing them down on the chaise. "For the hour you lost. But please, Madame, please call me with any information you may have—"

I slammed the door in his face.

Okay. That went about as well as sticking your hand in the garbage disposal.