“Yep, that’s kind of why we lost touch.”
“What has happened to her?” her mom asked.
Clare shrugged. “She was working as a secretary for a firm of nagas and she went to lunch and—just disappeared.”
“Kidnapped maybe?” her father said, cutting into his lamb chop.
“Perhaps someone thought her family were wealthy, being from Tween,” Adam reasoned.
Clare shook her head. “Monsters don’t do that kind of thing. If they attack, it’s right there and then, usually out of poverty and desperation. It’s not planned or premeditated.”
“I guess there’s always a first time,” her mom said.
Clare heaved a sigh. Her family were one of the few in Tween who were quietly pro-monster, perhaps because dealing with sadness and suffering and real things like death meant they were less judgmental. Death was a great leveler. But even so, Mom didn’t always think before she spoke.
Exasperated, Clare said, “Mom, seriously, how many humans have Doyles buried that were murdered by monsters?”
“None,” her dad agreed.
“Exactly my point.”
“Well, hopefully these young humans haven’t been murdered,” Adam said, hugging Polly close.
Trina shuddered. “I sincerely hope not.”
“I just want you to be safe,” her mom said softly. “Here in Tween, we know you are.”
“I’m safe in Motham too, Mom.” Now that her vampire boss was no longer there to lead her astray. And in a graveyard, of all places.
Dad and Mom would be shocked if they knew about her debauched behavior. Even Adam, probably. Now that he wasworking in the family business he’d become more respectful than in his youth, when he’d occasionally been caught jumping graves on his quad bike.
Clare sighed. “Truth is, I’m bored here. Rarely anything happens in Tween, it’s just petty crime or trumped-up charges against monsters to get their work permits cancelled.”
Trina, who loved gossip, chimed in. “I heard Mabel’s pooch parlor burned down, could that have been a monster?”
“Trina, please.” Clare frowned at her sister-in-law.
“I don’t mean the civilized ones, like Marvin,” Trina prevaricated. Marvin was the centaur who managed the funeral parlor’s grounds. “But some of those feral species have wings…”
“Only the wyverns, and they’re not even close to full-sized dragons. And they’re very undernourished. They wouldn’t have the strength to get all the way to Tween. Besides, Tween’s security system would zap them as soon as they got within five miles of the township,” Clare said. She’d never heard of a feral wyvern getting further than Motham Hill, and they were always arrested. With Tween’s security system, there was no chance a feral species would get anywhere near the place. It remained a fear, though, for the genteel residents of the town.
Her mom sighed. “Oh, darling, do you have to do this?”
Her dad patted her mom’s hand. “Clare will be fine, Motham is nothing like it used to be.”
“I know,” his wife sighed, then turned her gaze on Clare. “It’s just, you’re my baby girl.”
Clare laughed. “I’m twenty-eight years old, Mom, can you stop this nonsense?”
“Well,” Adam said, bouncing a gurgling Polly on his knee, “I for one think it’s a good idea, Clare-bear. You’re not happy here, I can tell. It’s like you need more edginess in your life.”
“I think you’re right.” She gave him a grateful look.
“It’s only a three-month contract,” she placated, looking at her mom’s still-worried face. Yet even as she said it, a pit yawned in her stomach at the idea of ever coming back to work in Tween.
Living here, working here for the rest of her life, even with her beloved family close by, would surely make her feel more dead than the folks buried in the graveyard next door.
“I think it will be good for you.” Her dad smiled, his eyes so many shades of green and gold, just like her own. “I agree with Adam: you need more excitement in your life.”
