Page 18 of Haunted Nightmares
And I intend to figure it out and fix it before I leave this wretched planet.
“His wife generally waits on everyone during these meetings,” Lydia says, clearly put off by what she’s reading. “Walks around in the most expensive dress she owns while she serves drinks and crap. Ridiculous. Must be…” There’s a pause and some shuffling of papers before she yells, “Ah ha! Yep, I knew it. Trophy wife bologna. Sarah Deveroux is twenty two years younger than her husband. Ew, and they have three kids. Can you imagine boinking that relic enough times to procreate?”
Declan chuckles from the driver seat as we get downtown. “He’s younger than you, Liddy.”
His sister huffs down the line. “Yeah but I don’t look like him. Vampires don’t age, we’re beautiful forever and that bag of bones looks like one of The Rolling Stones.”
The siblings crack up at that, laughing as they take digs at the mortals but I just continue to stare out the window as we get closer to our destination.
Zephyr would have loved this.
She may have been angry and disgusted over Atticus and Drusilla but my mate was beside herself to see the Hall of Vampire affairs, to sit in on a Counsel meeting and be there for something she’d only read about in books.
My gentle breeze would have jumped at the opportunity to meet the human president, to be at my side for the first meetingbetween us, to witness how things worked on the other side of the fence, and not having her with me for something like this is eating at me.
I scratch the top of the raven’s head, its feathers soft and cool against my fingers. It makes a clicking sound as I move to the back of its neck, the bird leaning into my hand as I get lost in thought.
“She should be here for this,” Zenlothanai whispers from the back of my mind.“Shewouldbe here if you hadn’t killed her.”
Shaking my head, I choose to ignore the voices and watch as the shops Zephyr and I frequented come into view.
It’s a busy night, a Friday in downtown New Orleans.
Many people—human and vampire alike—line the sidewalks, singing and shouting, carrying on as if they’ve not a care in the world.
College age males and females, groups of friends, all boisterous and loud as they walk the streets.
Parents and children, multiple generations enjoying the evening air.
Couples.
Hand in hand, arm in arm. Various pairings doting on each other.
They’ve all come out tonight and being in a slightly clearer headspace is making two things very obvious.
I’d like nothing more than to hunt, to sate my unrelenting hunger by taking their life force, their fear and blood until the streets run red and I have to dig through their corpses in search of more. But also…
Something feels…off.
In all my years of living here I’ve seen and heard everything, felt all of the underlying bullshite that thrums through this city but right now, slowly driving down the street, things do not feel the same.
I don’t know what it is, I don't know quite how to place it, but things aren’t exactly right and…
“Stop the car!” I shout as we pass the bookstore.
“What?” Declan swerves, barely missing a group of drunk college kids as he yells. “What the?—”
“Stop the bloody fucking car, you daft twat! Now!”
I reach for the wheel just as the raven squawks and flies out of my lap, flapping its wings in front of the windshield as my friend slams on the brakes and I throw my door open, all but leaping from the vehicle as I do.
And then I’m running.
Running back toward the bookstore, shoving my way through the foot traffic going in the opposite direction, pushing bodies out of my path with little concern for anything butwhat I saw.
I barrel through the crosswalk, disregarding the honking cars and irritated yelling from passersby. A small hatchback nearly hits me but I pound my fist down on the hood, the tiny vehicle slamming to a stop before the back end bounces up and down from the force of my fist while its driver stares at me with wide eyes.
Pushing the car back a few feet, I growl at it then start running again, knocking over a cyclist and almost roaring at the throngs of people moving toward me.
