Always the Vampire

Just then, Saber got sidetracked when the Cowboys threw a long pass. He shouted, and Snowball raced out of the kitchen. She paused, sniffed, then launched herself into my lap to lick my hands.

I let her rough tongue and soft purrs soothe me while the replay officials reviewed the catch, and the cameras showed the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders jiggle on the sidelines. Saber denies it, of course, but he’s a bigger fan of the cheerleaders than the team.

Of course, I’m a bigger fan of the players, so it evens out.

The play stood. Touchdown. Snowball abandoned my lap for Saber’s. I headed for the master-bath sink to scrub my hands with a concoction of sea salts, and pear and coconut essential oils I bought at the weekly Saturday morning farmers’ market.

It did the trick. No fishy stench when Saber and I retired to celebrate the Cowboy’s win. Go team.





The Internet listed sunrise as 7:14, but I arrived at the beach at five thirty with extra towels and Triton’s clean clothes, just in case he shifted early. Rain had blown in from the ocean overnight, and I hoped the early walkers would stay indoors long enough for me to whisk Triton into the car. Or at least into a beach towel.

Since the rain didn’t bother me, I sat on the hood of my SSR, keeping watch with vampire vision. At six, I saw Triton’s head—his human head—break the ocean surface. He waved to signal he’d seen me, then faced back out to sea. I barely had time to wonder what he was waiting for when a dolphin shot straight up from the swells, not ten feet from Triton’s right side.

The dolphin arched to dive back into the water, and thirty seconds later I saw a second human head above the waves. This one had shoulder-length hair that shone silver, even in the darkness. Before the figure swam to join Triton, even before they kissed, I knew.

Triton had a girlfriend.





THIRTEEN




You might recall that my hair is a pain. It waves more than the royal family. It curls in random coils. It frizzes if the humidity hits 20 percent, and Florida humidity averages 60 percent.

So, if I gnashed my teeth as Triton wrapped the tall, gorgeous woman he’d introduced as Lynn Ann Heath in one of my beach towels, it wasn’t with jealousy over Triton. It was pure envy over the woman’s perfectly straight silver blond hair. Never mind her perfectly spaced, perfectly arched eyebrows that I’d swear had never seen tweezers.

With Lynn shivering in my one and only passenger seat, I cranked the heat up, flashed her a smile, and hopped out to confront Triton.

He met my gaze as he zipped his shorts.

“All the dolphins in all the seas of the world, and you have to find your mate now? Triton, this is the definition of poor timing.”

“Jealous?”

“Envious, and only of her hair.” I pushed him toward the end of the truck and spoke quietly. “Why did you bring her with you?”

“I tried to swim her home, but she lives in Daytona, and we were fishing up by Jax Beach when we felt the stirrings of the change. We barely made it this far, so get off my back.”

“Fine, then you explain her to you-know-who when we show up for you-know-what tonight.”

“Chill. I’ll drive Lynn home after we shower, then come back home and sleep.” He paused with his rain-wet T-shirt halfway over his head. “Damn. My apartment is wrecked.”

“Not so much. Remember the visitor flying in from France? She and I cleaned it for you.”

His head emerged from the neck hole. “You did?”

“Yeah, but I hope you have some powerful air freshener. The place may still smell fishy.”

“Is that a crack?”

“No, idiot, it’s a fact. The yahoos that, uh, visited you dumped your frozen fish along with a lot of other food.”

“Oh, well, thanks for cleaning.”

“You’re welcome. What’s with Lynn? She seems a little unsteady.”

He shrugged. “I don’t think she’s been a shifter more than a few years.”

“Just how many years past puberty is she? Is she of legal age?”

“I don’t know yet. Is the interrogation over? Can we go now?”

“You’ll have to ride with her on your lap.”

“No problem.”

And it wasn’t, except that Lynn’s teeth continued to chatter so much, it was difficult to make conversation. I gave up when she rested her head in the crook of Triton’s neck and closed her eyes.

Okay, so maybe she’d heard my exchange with Triton. Maybe I’d alienated my best friend’s new girl. I’d worry about that if she stuck around.

In my peripheral vision, I saw Triton tenderly brush a lock of hair from Lynn’s cheek. Who was I kidding? She’d be sticking around.

But I could and would insist on investigating her. I’d put Saber, Cosmil, Lia—hell, even Pinkertons—on the case of discovering who Lynn Ann Heath really was. I believe in synchronicity, but really. After all Triton’s years of searching for a mate, why had a human-dolphin shifter suddenly appeared on his sonar just as we prepared to fight Starrack and the Void?

If that wasn’t hinky, I’d eat a flip-flop.