I thought about what he had just said while I ate a bite of my tuna melt. I swallowed carefully and said, “So, you can scare somebody, and then feed off of them, and that tops up your… essence tank. From which you derive power, like I guess I do from the sea.” He nodded. “I get how fear works,” I continued, “but lust?” He looked at me like I was a bit slow, and I reflected for a moment. “Oh, of course,” I said, blushing. I was very slow.
“So, we don’t need much blood, and certainly not enough to exsanguinate somebody. But we do need to be around humans. Most other supernatural beings don’t generate the right caliber of emotional essence.”
“And can the humans you bite, can they… catch it?” I knew I was being vague, and Ryu looked annoyingly amused.
“It?” he queried, his lovely lips curling in a smirk.
I sighed. I could tell he was one of those people who liked to make things difficult. “You know, vampirism. Like in the movies.”
He shook his head. “Forget everything you’ve seen in the movies,” he said. “They are—for the most part—based on misconceptions, half-truths, or out and out fantasy. I don’t carry a virus or a pathogen or a curse. What I am is another species, or race, to you. If I bit you,” he explained, “you could no more get ‘vampire’ than you could give me ‘human’ or ‘female’ or ‘Caucasian’ by biting me.”
I kept eating, trying to take in everything he was saying.
“Does it hurt?” I asked eventually, curiosity getting the better of me.
“It can, if we’d like it to.” Ryu’s voice was low, his eyes suddenly hot on mine. “But it can also feel very good, indeed. And we can heal a bite, no problem. Which feels quite nice, as well.”
Those words, coupled with the heat of his gaze, made various bits of my anatomy, which had been dormant for the past eight years, rocket to life. In order to cover my confusion, and to keep the whimper that was hovering just at the back of my throat from escaping, I bit into my pickle.
“As for the fangs,” he continued, “they only come out when we’re… excited.”
I tried to keep my face noncommittal as I took a sip of my lemonade.
“Told you I was different.” He smirked, and I nearly choked, again. Note to self, I thought. Stop eating around this man. He will be the death of you.
“Does that answer your questions?” he asked, taking my hand and giving it a squeeze. “I know this has to be a lot of information coming too quickly. You halflings don’t have it easy when you’ve been raised human. But it will begin to make sense, eventually. And you’ve got a long time to get used to it.”
He let my hand go with a stomach-churning caress and started back in on his steak. We finished what was left of our meals in silence, for which I was happy. I didn’t know how much more my poor brain could take in one night.
After dinner we ordered pie and coffee, and only then did Ryu ask me about Jakes. I told him about finding the body and I told him everything that Grizzie had told me about the investigation. Ryu was most interested in the stuff about Peter’s car. I told him that I didn’t think there’d been anything strange happening during Peter’s stay here in Rockabill, but I wouldn’t have known what to look for, anyway.
We finished our desserts and Ryu asked for the bill. I tried to pay for my share, but he just rolled his eyes at me. “It’s on the company,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.” I didn’t know whether to be pleased or displeased at that information. When he’d insisted on paying, it had felt like a date, but I didn’t know if I should be on a date. So I settled on feeling ambivalent, and let it go at that.
He had a faraway look in his eyes as he helped me into my coat, and then turned me around so he could zip me up. I felt like a child standing there, but I don’t think he was even aware of what he was doing. He took my hand and we walked out into the parking lot. I waved at Amy through the window, still feeling slightly superfluous as we walked to Ryu’s car. He opened my door and then went around and got into the driver’s seat.
Starting the engine, he turned to me. “The obvious course of action is to find Jakes’s car,” he said, decisively. “But tonight’s not the right time. A night like this is too good to waste.” There was that cheeky wink again. “Let’s go out. Do you want to go out?”
“Yes, please,” I answered, my voice strangely small.
“Excellent.” He grinned, adjusting my seat belt again. My heart palpitated, right on cue.“So what passes for a watering hole here in Rockabill, Maine?”
I hated to tell him. “It’s called the Pig Sty.”
His yipping laugh echoed through the car as we peeled out from our parking space and into the night.
CHAPTER SEVEN
From the parking lot, Ryu eyed the Sty skeptically. The Pig Sty was your average country watering hole: big and airy, a little shabby, and with a large quantity of very little selection. There were no rare micro-brewery pilsners, nor were there any pinot grigios or un-oaked chardonnays. The Sty had “red wine” or “white wine,” a few different, inevitably domestic species of beer and light beer, and the standard selection of hard liquor. That said, the owners, Marcus and Sarah Vernon, had always been really nice to me, going out of their way to be inviting. And the Vernons made sure everyone behaved.
Legend has it that Marcus had chucked Stuart, my nemesis, into the Dumpster the first night the Sty opened. Stu had been throwing his weight around, as usual, and had grabbed some tourist’s ass and said something filthy in her ear when out of nowhere Marcus struck. Marcus was decidedly smaller than Stu, but Stu hadn’t had a chance. One minute he was standing there looking surprised, the next he had disappeared into the filthy Dumpster out back. Marcus hadn’t even broken a sweat.
I would have paid good money to have seen the look on Stu’s face that night.
The best part is that Stu, in the end, had to humble himself and ask Marcus for forgiveness. The Pig Sty was the only bar for miles and Stu was already barred from half the places between here and Eastport. So, he’d sucked it up and apologized, and I guess Marcus had felt that he’d made his point and allowed Stuart to come back.
More’s the pity, I thought, recognizing Stuart’s enormous SUV in the parking lot. I stifled a groan. But the Sty was a big place and the parking lot was pretty full. Hopefully Stuart would overlook my presence.
Ryu parked close to the main entrance and, once again, took my hand as we walked into the bar. He’s making a habit of the hand-holding, I thought, unsure how I felt about that fact. No, check that. I knew I felt pretty damned good about holding his hand, but I was also pretty sure that I shouldn’t.
Not least because he just admitted to being a vampire, I reminded myself.
Whatever, my libido purred. You don’t get to judge him for having fangs when he hasn’t judged you for going bonkers. Not to mention, vampires are hot.
You’re not helping, the more virtuous aspect of my personality scolded.
The gods help those who help themselves, my libido smirked, taking control of my hand long enough to give Ryu’s a little squeeze. He smiled at me, pleasure suffusing his features.
Jane True, get a grip! I threatened, my face coloring for about the fiftieth time that evening.
Behind the large bar were Sarah and Marcus. Both about the same size, they looked like brother and sister except for their skin tones. She was very pale and he was very dark, although they had the same boyish haircuts. Sarah spiked hers up, as if to match her husband’s afro. They were each about five foot six and muscular, but in a really attractive way—they looked like acrobats rather than weight lifters. They’d always gone out of their way to speak to me in the village and I enjoyed coming into the Sty because of them. That said, I rarely made an appearance, as Stuart often lurked in the vicinity.
Sarah and Marcus both looked up sharply as Ryu and I entered. Hmm, I thought. I know that look. So I was both surprised and not surprised when I felt Ryu’s power begin swirling, presumably making us invisible, and Marcus stalked forward demanding to know if Ryu had checked in with Nell.
Well,now I know why they were so nice to me.
Ryu assured Marcus his presence was legitimate, and then Marcus turned to face me.
“Welcome, Jane,” he said, wrapping me up in a hug as if I were his long lost sister. When he let me go, Sarah was right there to replace him. She hugged me so tight my vertebrae crunched, murmuring, “I’m so glad you finally know,” in my ear.
They both stood there beaming at me for an uncomfortable moment, before escorting us to the left-hand side of the bar.
Sitting there were Gus Little, Miss Carol, and a man I didn’t recognize. Gus worked as a bag boy at McKinley’s grocery store, even though he appeared to be middle-aged. Rumor had it that Gus was “special,” but in the short bus, rather than the supernatural, way. He was a small man, and very chubby, with a huge round face and these funny eyes that swam alarmingly behind enormous, Coke-bottle glasses. He was also bald as an egg.