“It’s not the same guy,” Jo-Jo assured me.
“But still. A mother named her kid Vlad on purpose? That’s just gross.”
“Well, he had an old mother,” Jo-Jo said. “No, wait, I mean he’s old, so his name was probably hip at one time.”
I curbed the urge to roll my eyes. “What does your human sponsor say about you leaving Atlanta?”
“I don’t have one, Princess.”
“But you have to have one. The Vampire Protection Act specifically requires each vampire to have a sponsor.”
“A thousand pardons for contradicting you, Your Nobleness, but after five years, if you’ve proven yourself to be a completely reformed biter, you no longer need a sponsor.”
I gawked at him, then Saber, then searched the yard for Maggie. She stood not far away and, since it was quiet enough to hear a seagull poop, she’d heard every word.
“He’s right, Cesca,” she said.
My world tilted. Again. Why hadn’t Maggie told me this tidbit months ago? That she didn’t have to sponsor me for forever. That we didn’t have to live partly joined at the hip for the rest of our lives.
That someday she’d want me to go away.
I drew a breath that was supposed to calm me. Instead I got another snootful of Jo-Jo’s sour blood scent. And heard the Listers’ car pull into the driveway next door. Yikes. They so didn’t need to see a vampire standoff.
“Tell you what, Jo-Jo,” I said, proud I sounded so reasonable and in control. “We’re shooting off fireworks at Crescent Beach. You can come, too, and for heaven’s sake, use the public shower while you’re there.”
Jo-Jo cringed. At the mention of heaven or a shower, I couldn’t tell, but he finally nodded.
“What about my request for refuge, Royal Beauteousness?”
“We’ll talk about that later.”
“Okay,” he said, almost puppylike now. “Who’s giving me a ride?”
The sound of feet pounding the ground as our guests fled to their cars might’ve been funny if I hadn’t heard Hugh Lister’s shout from his front yard.
“Jesus Christ on a stick, these assholes are trampling my goddamn ferns.”
“Bless his holy name,” Selma said.
Jo-Jo blinked at me. “Bless whose holy name?”
“Never mind. You got all the way here from Atlanta, you can walk to Crescent Beach.”
“Thank you, Francesca, Princess Vampire.”
Jo-Jo wasn’t thanking me an hour later. He flew to the beach instead of walking and looked more bug encrusted for the effort. So, while the guys set up the fireworks, I made Jo-Jo stand fully clothed under the outdoor shower and scrub with a bar of soap I’d bought at Handy Mart. He didn’t utter a single protest but only muttered, “I live to serve,” like a mantra. Once he was reasonably clean from his hair to his heels, he dried with a spare towel from Saber’s SUV.
March and Balch put themselves in charge of lighting the fireworks, which was fine by me. I wanted to snuggle with Saber on our blanket under the waterfalls of lights.
What I got was Jo-Jo trying to “attend” me. Between his, “Do you need this, Princess?” and “Let me get that, Princess,” my own fuse burned. When I told him to park it and be quiet, the jester wasn’t happy. Well, excuse me, but what did he expect after crashing our party? As for giving him sanctuary, I’d set him straight when we got home. Find out how he knew about my title and send him on his way. To where, I didn’t care.
The fireworks ended too soon, but since Jo-Jo’s clothes were nearly dry, Saber let him ride home with us. My honey was scoring extra points for that kindness tonight, and I’d show him my appreciation as soon as we booted Jo-Jo out the door. Which would be in about ten minutes if my libido had a vote.
Maggie’s white Acura and my aqua SSR truck were in the driveway, so Saber parked his black Saturn Vue at the curb. Maggie waited with a scowling Neil under the old live oak tree in the front yard as Saber herded Jo-Jo toward the gate that led to my cottage.
When I approached, Neil turned his ire on me. “You’re not letting that vampire stick around. No way in hell.”
Maggie laid her hand on his arm. “Neil, Cesca can have any guest she wants in her home.”
“Not if that guest will be a threat to you.”
“I promise he won’t be a threat—right, Jo-Jo?” I said, sensing that he loitered with Saber just beyond the gate.
“Your Most Royalness, I will protect with my life any friend of yours.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Neil said. “Talk is cheap.”
“Silver bullets aren’t,” Jo-Jo called again.
Neil blinked. “What does that mean?”
I cracked a small smile. “He has delusions of comedy.”
“He’s a comic?” Maggie asked.
Neil snorted, and Saber echoed it. I ignored them both.
“I promise he’s not staying.”