But that didn’t mean I enjoyed hanging out with him. “Now,” Steve started, “Steve thinks Sophie should pretend to be Steve’s love monkey.”
I gave Steve an unamused once-over, which he ignored, threading his graying arm through mine, his lichen-covered knuckles closing over my fingers. I caught our reflection in the blacked-out glass: me, stylishly disheveled in skinny jeans, UGG boots, and a herringbone hooded jacket; Steve, dressed in his trademark velour track suit, dripping with enough gold chains to give Mr. T a run for his money. His stubby troll arms wrapped around my right thigh; his flat, stone gray eyes looked up at me lovingly while his pointed tongue slid over his snaggled yellow teeth lasciviously.
Oh boy, we wouldn’t stand out at all.
Chapter Twenty
The inside of Poe’s was uniformly dim and beatnik chic. The dark wood tables were crowded with fabulous-looking intellectuals reading newspapers and having conversations in low murmurs. Everywhere pale hands were wrapped around bowl-sized mugs that wafted little bits of steam. The only indication that Poe’s was anything more than your average Starbucks-refuting coffeehouse was that those mugs—the ones that were empty and stacked on the counter—were stained a deep, rich red.
I pushed my fire engine red hair over my shoulder and pasted on my most confident-feeling smile, while covertly trying to shake Steve off my thigh. Though, even without three feet of gray skin and swamp lichen attached to my leg, I don’t think I would have been able to blend in. I barely had one foot through the front door when all heads turned and swung toward us, nostrils twitching.
I gulped, willing my heart to continue along at its natural clip, praying that what I heard was not my blood roaring through my veins because if I heard it, everyone else did, too. A very tall woman, with blue-black hair pulled back into a slick ponytail, bangs cut high on her forehead, cocked her head toward me, clearly listening. My heart continued to do its siren-sounding thump, and the woman licked her lips. A glistening hint of saliva colored her lower lip. I stiffened and grabbed Steve’s hand, holding tight.
“Steve knew Sophie would come around.”
Sophie knew that with the vampires’ supernatural sense of smell, Steve’s personal odor could work as a kind of shield.
Despite being the only breather in a coffehouse filled to the gill with people who dined on people like me between meals, I wasn’t a complete idiot.
I glanced around. “I don’t see her. Maybe she left?”
I watched the woman with the ponytail stiffen in her chair; her body was erect and she leaned slightly forward, as though she were about to pounce. I didn’t recognize her from the UDA, which meant it was possible that she was newly created or new to town—two things that meant she didn’t know or possibly didn’t care to adhere to the UDA’s strict no-eating-me policy.
With one eye on salivation girl, I limped over to the front counter, where an adorable-looking Leighton Meester knockoff was pushing a white towel in small circles on the sparkling granite.
“Hi,” I said, brightening. “Hi, excuse me. I’m Sophie Lawson ...”
The Gossip Girl doppelganger grinned at me, her small fangs glowing a bright white in the overhead light. “I know you. You work at the UDA with Nina LaShay, right?”
I nodded spastically; relief washing over me. Maybe little Leighton would protect me from ponytail girl.
“I’m Avey.”
“Oh, hi, Avey.” I held out my hand and Avey took it in hers for a microsecond; then she let it go as though my skin had burned her.
“Oh! I’m sorry,” she said, her bluish violet eyes going wide. “I didn’t realize you would be so warm.”
“Ahem!” Steve cleared six inches of phlegm from his throat, and I wanted to gag.
Avey leaned up on her tiptoes and peered over the counter to where Steve stood, little tree stump legs askew, fists on hips.
“Steve is here to protect Sophie. May Sophie lift Steve up, please?”
I watched the terror shoot across Avey’s face—mainly her nose—and wagged my head.
“It’s okay, Steve. I’m fine.” I turned back to Avey. “Is Nina here?”
“No. Actually, she was here a bit ago, but—”
Steve yanked hard on my hand and kicked one snakeskin-booted foot against the wood base of the counter.
“Steve is here to protect Sophie. Sophie cannot trust these bloodsuckers!”
Suddenly the murmuring din of conversation stopped, and the whole room plunged into stunned silence.
“Steve,” I started to whisper.
Avey’s eyebrows shot up, alarmed. “You should go.”