***
Julian climbed out from the room between Clint’s garage with Earl’s body draped over his shoulder. Turning, he slid the cover back into place. Chris and Devon stood by the door of the garage, watching him. He’d asked Devon to release Earl from his mind control when he’d gone below, but Earl still hadn’t put up much of a fight.
Chris turned away from the spectacle of Julian’s handiwork; Devon didn’t. He’d promised Quinn he would kill Earl today, but he’d still taken the time to make Earl’s death as unpleasant as he possibly could beforehand.
“Cut your time with him short,” Devon said.
“Quinn asked me to,” Julian replied.
“I see.”
“I’m going to take his body out to the desert. The sun will get rid of whatever remains the coyotes don’t get tonight.”
Julian didn’t wait for them to reply before slipping by them and breaking into a run. The desert shifted beneath his feet as he raced through the night with Earl’s body dangling over his shoulder. The scent of the cooling sand and the feral aroma of the wildlife creeping through the night filled his nostrils while he ran.
He tossed Earl’s body behind a rocky outcropping and stopped to survey the night. The stars seemed to stretch endlessly on in the inky night sky. He searched for any hint of danger amongst the scattered cactus and rock formations, but the desert remained serene.
With Earl dead, Quinn was safer than she’d been in years. No other vampire would know upon seeing her that she hadn’t required direct blood from a vampire in order to complete the change. Despite that, any vampire who had heard the prophecy and saw her use her ability would know it was her. They may not understand the prophecy without knowing her history, but they wouldn’t care about that, not if they could find a way to use her for themselves.
Yet, instead of continuing to try to hide her away from the vampires, he intended to reveal her to them. Over the years, he’d learned countless times just how quickly something could unravel. He believed trying to hide her would most likely backfire on them one day. By revealing her, there would be vampires everywhere who would most likely fall into line with her and try to keep her safe.
He could only hope this decision was not the one that backfired.
He didn’t look at Earl’s body before he turned and ran back to where Quinn and the others were helping Clint put his bar back together. Running to the front of the building, Julian leaped up the stairs and pushed the door to the bar open. Clint and Quinn stopped trying to scrub the blood stains from the floor when he stepped inside. Devon and Chris had already returned to the bar and were helping the others put a fresh coat of dark stain on the walls.
“It’s looking good,” he commented.
“Should have this place up for sale by the time Hawtie gets out of the hospital,” Clint said.
“When is she getting out?”
“The doc says she’ll be good to go in two days.” Clint returned to scrubbing the floor. “I don’t know who’s going to buy the murder bar though,” he muttered as he worked.
Quinn blinked at him and sat back to rest her hands on her thighs. The scrub brush in her hand caused a wet stain to spread across her jeans as she gazed at Clint. “Are they really calling it the murder bar?”
“If they’re not already, they will be,” Clint replied.
“We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“I don’t think there will be any stopping it,” Clint said. “I’m thinking maybe I could sell it as haunted. You know like a gimmick type thing or something. People eat that shit up now.”
“It could work,” Chris said. “Maybe you could have Julian haunt it or something. He’s pale enough to be Casper.”
Julian shot him a look. “Easy, Christopher.”
Chris grinned at him before returning to painting the wall. Quinn rose to her feet and dropped her scrub brush into a bucket of red-tinted water. Clint did the same.
Quinn’s eyes were troubled as she strolled over to Julian. She rested her hand against his cheek. “Is everything taken care of?” she asked.
The fresh scent of her cucumber shampoo filled his nose when he bent to kiss the top of her head. “It is.”
Her shoulders slumped with relief. “Thank you.”
He kissed her again before straightening away from her. Clint thrust a paint brush into Julian’s hand as he walked by. “Get to painting, Dennis.”
Julian did a double take at the name, and then his eyes narrowed when he figured out why the man had called him Dennis. Quinn giggled and playfully bumped his hip. Chris didn’t bother to try to stifle his loud laughter. The others all stared at Clint while they tried to puzzle out why Clint had called him Dennis.
“Does he have dementia?” Cassie asked in a hushed whisper that only caused Chris to laugh harder.