La Vida Vampire

He shrugged. “I have no idea.”


“Did you hear or see—or smell—anything else before the shot?” Balch asked. “Anything at all?”

“Sorry, no. Like I said, Saber and I were talking. I was focused on that.”

“What happened after the shot?” he pressed.

“My shoulder burned, and I pitched forward. Saber pulled me in the door and about halfway down the hall. I think he drew his gun, and I heard him call 911.”

“And that’s all you remember?” Balch asked.

“That’s it.”

“Ms. Marinelli,” Balch said, shifting in the chair, “could Etienne Fournier want to kidnap you? Extort money from you in exchange for, say, letting Saber live?”

“Depends on how crazy he is. Vampires aren’t exactly easy marks. Even if he’d wounded Saber, Etienne had to know I’d fight back if he came after us in the building.” I blew out a frustrated breath. “That’s why it doesn’t make sense.”

“We can speculate all we want, but it won’t catch the bad guy.” March tucked his little spiral notebook in his pocket as he rose from the chair. “I need to get back downstairs. Balch, you have more questions?”

“Not at this time.” Balch and Saber stood, too, and Balch shook Saber’s hand. He didn’t offer his hand to me, but he did smile. “Hope you heal up fast, Ms. Marinelli. We’ll call to have you come sign your statement.”

Since Saber had my keys and knew the elevator code, he played host and showed the detectives out. I slumped into the fluffy couch cushions and tried to dig up some enthusiasm for yet another trip to a cop shop. Sleuthing was sure taking up my formerly spare and uncomplicated time.

I don’t know how long I drifted, thinking of nothing much but catching up with my online classes and getting my life back on a schedule, when the door lock snicked and Saber’s footsteps crossed to the kitchen. The fridge door opened. Bottles clinked. Liquid sloshed as if in a bottle being shaken.

He was shaking beer?

I heard my mini-fridge motor kick on. The door had been opened. Damn!

I jackknifed up to glare over the couch back as Saber sauntered toward me with a bottle of Starbloods in each hand.

“You opened both fridge doors at the same time, didn’t you?” I accused as I jumped off the couch.

“Yep, and you can complain about my snooping after you drink up.” He held both bottles out to me expectantly. I crossed my arms, wincing when my right shoulder protested the stretch. “I only drink one at a time.”

“No, you have two sometimes,” he argued with a smile.

“How would you know?”

“Old-fashioned detective work,” he said. “I counted the bottles in the bin. Your recycling day is Monday, so you should have six used bottles. You have nine. Ergo, you’ve had extra shots—I suspect when you had the tracker changed out.”

“Fine,” I said, plucking first one, then the other bottle from his hold with my good arm. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Hold it,” he said, moving fast to block my escape. “You don’t have a microwave in your room.”

“So?”

“Aren’t you going to warm up the Starbloods?”

“I drink it cold.”

I veered around Saber, but he caught me around the waist and spun, not hurting my shoulder but backing me into the kitchen island. He braced his hands on the countertop, and his arms brushed my sides.

“What,” I snapped, “are you doing? I told you I’d be back.”

“I want to be sure you drink it all. Now.” He stared like a stern nurse. “Down the hatch, Cesca.”

“Saber, I don’t drink in public.”

“You’re not in public. You’re in your own home.”

“I don’t let people watch me drink,” I ground out.

“You do now. Come on, stop stalling,” he cajoled. “You need to heal that shoulder, and I’m making sure you drink every drop.”

I reached over his arm to set one bottle on the counter, and shook the other one gently. Not the best delaying tactic, but Saber didn’t look ready to budge.

“The least you could do is turn around.”

“No.”

I ground my teeth. “Fine, then I’ll turn around.”

His lips twitched, but he didn’t laugh when I wiggled in the circle of his arms until I faced the far kitchen wall. The protective plastic made crinkly noises as I ripped it off, and the cap came off with a thwunk. With a deep breath, I pinched my nose shut and chugged my Starbloods. No sooner did I put the first bottle down than Saber held the second one over my shoulder, already uncapped. As I downed that one, Saber stepped away from me and over to the dining table.

“See, that wasn’t so bad.”

It wasn’t, but I didn’t have to let on. I took both bottles and metal lids to the sink, rinsed them, and put them in the recycling bin before I had the nerve to look at Saber again.

“Happy now?” I asked.

“Ecstatic.”

“Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” I said rounding the counter to head for my room, “I need to brush my teeth.”