“W-would Mia like one?” I could hardly hear my own voice over the pounding of my heart in my ears.
“She’s actually at my parents’ place for the next few nights but thank you for thinking of her.” Shelby glanced from the bag to my face. “You said you bought them from a bakery?”
“Yes. They’re delicious.” I lowered the bag—this time taking pains so I didn’t clutch it and accidentally rip it apart.
“I hope that doesn’t mean that you’re giving up baking?” Shelby asked.
Even my general fear of coming off as awkward wasn’t enough to stop my grimace. “I don’t know that I ever succeeded enough to call what I did baking. But yes.”
Shelby’s eyes were warm with sympathy. “Really? That’s sad. I thought it was so sweet that you were trying to reproduce family recipes—it’s so heartwarming.”
“Oh,” I said, not quite sure how to respond to the compliment.
“You know, to tell you the truth, I’m really bad at baking.” Shelby laughed. “I gave up on ever learning, so I thought it was really neat that you kept trying, every week.”
“Yeah, baking is rough. And I’ve learned family recipes usually don’t have all the directions on them,” I said, trying not to let too much bitterness leak through. (On more than one occasion I’d followed a recipe to the letter, only to find out later from my mom or grandmother that there were a few very important directions that weren’t on the recipe card.)
Shelby laughed. “I’ve learned that too.”
A door opened and my vampire senses kicked in, so when I peered back over my shoulder I wasn’t too surprised to see Connor—he was the only vampire within a block radius in this part of town.
Connor raised his eyebrows at me but I wasn’t trying to bribe him with baked goods, so I whipped back around to face Shelby.
“Either way, I really hope you don’t give up baking for good,” Shelby continued. “I always enjoy our chats about food.”
“Oh,” I said, sounding as dazed as I felt. “Thanks, Shelby.”
Shelby smiled. “Of course. Have a good morning!”
“You too,” I called as Shelby slipped past me and started down the staircase.
I stood rooted where I was even as Shelby’s footsteps grew quieter and disappeared.
“Well.” Connor strolled closer. “It seems you have been rejected again—”
I grabbed Connor by the wrist. “Did you hear that? She complimented me!”
Connor jumped, surprised by my enthusiasm. “Er…yes?”
“We had an actual conversation! And since she remembered that I’m trying to bake—even that I’m bad at it—that means she bothered to remember something about me. So, she’s not uninterested in being friends, right?”
“I suppose?” Connor said.
“Yes!” I let go of Connor and pumped a free hand in the air. “I’m making progress.”
“For what it’s worth, I don’t know that any of our neighbors dislike you—they just lead a busy existence. Humans are forever running around involving themselves in unnecessary work,” Connor said, sounding jaded and old.
“Ah-ah! No!” I spun around to face him and wildly shook my head. “You’re not going to insult our neighbors-who-aren’t-yet-friends-but-one-day-will-be!”
“Fine, I see how it is.” Connor leaned into my personal space, a smile curving across his lips and faintly lighting up his red eyes. “Congratulations on successfully speaking to another neighbor.”
I tucked one of my bright red curls behind my ear, feeling oddly bashful. “Thanks, Connor. For all your help and encouragement.”
He tipped his head. “Based on that, am I to assume that you are going to keep baking and that I shall continue to be your built-in fan for your fire alarm?”
“Yes, please!” I said. “Want a cookie? They’re still warm! From the bakery!”
“I was standing at my door when I heard you make your pitch, but no thank you.” Connor settled his hands on my shoulders, his smile smug for some reason. “You just got off work, didn’t you? You should head to bed.”
I glanced at the door to my apartment. “Yeah, probably. But I might be too excited to sleep. I think I’ll have a cookie and one of my smoothies.”
Connor shuddered. “Ahh yes, those vile green concoctions. Well. I don’t want a cookie—or one of your drinks—but I shall accompany you to celebrate. Though I am hurt—you didn’t celebrate this much when we became friends.”
“That’s because you’re different. You’re a supernatural,” I said.
Connor—his hands still on my shoulders—steered me towards my apartment door. “Which somehow makes me easier to befriend, despite the fact that you’re a regular human?” Connor said.
Oops. It was a bit of a slip up—of course I was more comfortable around Connor. I knew everything about vampires. “It’s my work,” I said. “It got me used to supernaturals.”
“I’m so sure,” Connor said. “Now, open the door. You look like you’re about to collapse. I don’t want to have to go rummaging through your pockets to find your key.”
I turned in Connor’s grasp making his hands fall away so I could give him a loose side hug. “Thanks, Connor. You’re a good friend.”
I peeled myself away, and juggled my bag as I pulled my keys out of my pocket. When I found them, I glanced over at Connor—who had gone strangely quiet.
He was watching me with an emotion I couldn’t quite place.
“You okay?” I asked.
Connor smiled wildly. “Oh, I’m more than okay. I’m splendid.”
Despite riding high on my interaction with Shelby, my encounter with Gisila when my team had followed the overstimulated werewolves bothered me. So two days later, I waited outside the office the Curia Cloisters had converted into a holding cell of sorts for Orrin.
The Curia Cloisters didn’t usually “hold” criminals. Punishment was usually doled out immediately and violently among supernaturals. There was one supernatural prison, Ghast. But truthfully, Orrin hadn’t done enough damage to warrant being sent there. (No humans had been injured in his attacks and despite how much we suspected Tutu’s was the target, we still didn’t have proof.)
Gisila had already renounced him, so he was jobless. When Captain Reese had contacted the fae Court he was allied with, they’d disowned him—so his future was in shambles.
The real problem was that his creatures had done some pretty significant damage to public property—mostly streets—and a couple cars. This meant the humans were involved, so the upper echelon was trying to figure out a proper punishment that could actually be communicated to the mayor’s office. (So far there had been talks of a huge fine that would be passed on to his children and children’s children but that had raised a few human eyebrows, so the idea had been temporarily sidelined.)