"Well, duh." Etienne rolled his eyes. "I know that. She doesn't. And she's kind of creeped out, wondering if that makes her a necrophiliac or something. She also wondered if your 'wonderful erections' are rigor mortis."
Lucern felt himself perk up. "She called my erections wonderful?"
Etienne just gaped, then raised a fist to knock on his brother's forehead as if it were a door. "Hello! Earth calling Luc! She thinks it's rigor mortis."
Lucern batted the hand away, his irritation returning. "And whose fault is that? Etienne, I don't know why you have to sleep in that damned coffin, anyway. You have a warm, loving wife at home waiting in a nice, comfortable bed. What are you doing in a coffin in my basement?"
"I'm having problems with Blood Lust Three and needed to think. Besides, Rachel isn't home. She had a staff meeting to attend at work."
"Well, next time I suggest you work out these problems somewhere else, because I am getting rid of that coffin first thing."
"Ah, come on, Luc," Etienne began, but Lucern turned and left the room.
He strode down the hall, muttering under his breath. "Rigor mortis? A necrophiliac? Where does she come up with this stuff?"
The two women from the cleaning crew had their heads together in the living room and were whispering fiercely in panicked tones. They fell silent as he passed the doorway, and Luc could feel their fearful eyes upon him. He ignored them and walked straight to the front door. Pausing there, he tugged the blinds on the side panels aside, wincing as bright sunlight hit his eyes. It took a minute to adjust to the noonday sun. The moment he did, he spotted Kate. She was standing on his porch, staring forlornly out at the road like a puppy that had been abandoned.
Of course, she had arrived by taxi, he realized. But the cab had left while she was in the house, and now she was trying to decide what to do. Obviously, coming back into the house to call for another taxi wasn't something she wanted to do.
Sighing, he let the blinds drop back into place and pulled the door open. "Kate?"
She stiffened where she stood on the edge of his porch, but didn't turn.
Lucern sighed. "Kate. Come back inside so we can talk, please."
"I'd really rather not." Her voice was strained, and she still didn't turn to look at him.
"Okay." He pulled the door wider and stepped out onto the porch. "Then I'll join you."
Kate eyed him warily as he joined her. "Are you now going to age before my eyes and burst into flames?"
He gave her an annoyed look. "You know I don't burst into flames in the sunlight."
"I thought you didn't sleep in coffins either."
"I don't. Etienne does. He's… well, he's the weird one in the family."
"Thank you very much."
They both turned to stare at Etienne, who stood in the shadow of Luc's front entry with the door open.
"I'm going home. I'm sorry I scared you, Kate," he said solemnly. Then Luc's brother turned to him and added, "Please clear up the rigor mortis and necrophilia issue. It will bother me until you do."
Kate flushed, apparently embarrassed at her words having been overheard. Turning away from both of them, she moved to the side, apparently expecting Etienne to leave by way of the porch. When he closed the door but didn't walk past them, she glanced around, suspicion entering her gaze when she saw that he was gone. "What did he do? Turn into a bat and fly away?"
"No, of course he didn't," Lucern snapped. "He's gone through the house to the garage. He wants to avoid the sun."
"Hmmm." She didn't look as though she believed him, so Lucern just waited. A moment later, they both heard the muffled sound of a car starting; then Luc's garage door opened and Etienne's little sports car with its blackened windows pulled out. The garage door closed automatically behind it, and Etienne roared down the driveway and down the street.
Lucern waited a heartbeat, then took a deep breath and said, "Kate, I told you. It's nothing like that nonsense Bram Stoker made up. We are not related to, nor do we turn into bats. We don't sleep in coffins anymore—except for Etienne, who swears it helps him get in the mood to come up with new ideas for his games. I am not dead. You are not a necrophiliac. Rigor mortis does not cause my erections. You do."
She flushed at his last words, though whether with embarrassment or pleasure he didn't know. He suspected a little bit of both. Her posture became a little less stiff, her shoulders easing from their military stance, but she also sighed unhappily as she turned to him.
"You want me to believe you're just like everyone else?"
"I am," he assured her. Then, to be scrupulously honest, he had to add, "Well, other than the blood hunger and living hundreds of years and never aging or getting sick and…" He grimaced and stopped his honest admission right there. It wasn't going to win points with her.