Page 23 of Death Raiser

I shrugged. How would I know that? I only went where my brother and his boyfriend dragged me.

“The owner is rumoured to be a witch. Gregor has him under surveillance,” Estelle added.

“Really? I didn’t get witch vibes from Grant.”

Estelle’s eyebrows shot up. “You’ve met Victoria’s most eligible bachelor?”

Eligible? I sipped my crantini to hide my scowl. “Danced with him, too.”

Estelle reached out and smacked my arm. “Shut up. Really? How was it?”

“Oh, let’s just say I doubt he’ll ever forget me or the experience any time soon.”

Estelle frowned, her perfect brows dipping down and rippling her flawless brown skin. “I feel like there’s more to this story.”

“There is.”

“But you won’t share?” She took a sip of her martini.

“Tit for tat, buttercup. I want to know about you. I’m fairly certain your stories are much more entertaining than mine about dancing with some random club owner.”

Estelle’s smile widened and her large brown eyes lit up. “I do have a few stories.”

“Perfect. Pick one and we’ll start there.”

Estelle laughed. She had a nice laugh, not the boisterous loud kind that made me wince, nor the soft, almost fake tittering sound more akin to a bell that made me want to smack something. Estelle had a nice warm laugh that brought a smile to my face, and I very much wanted her to be my friend.

I didn’t have a lot of friends. I had friends in school mostly because I hid what I could do with my magic. When I grew up and came into my power, I quickly discovered the strength of those friendships—or lack thereof. No one ever talked about how hard it was to make friends as an adult. At least, that was the vibe in Victoria. From what I heard, Vancouver was even worse.

As I soon found out, most adults didn’t want to make new friends when they already had a safe, core group from school, and they especially didn’t want to hang out with someone who killed farm animals to raise dead people and slept through most of the day. I worked absurd hours and had magical abilities that made most people uncomfortable, drabs and glamies alike. My friends consisted of Denise from work, my brother, and Brandon, and I was fine with that because I didn’t often come across someone I wanted to be friends with. Until now.

“Is it offensive to ask a human servant their age?” I asked.

“It is if you’re a stranger, and before you ask, no, we’re not strangers.” She smiled again. “I was born in 1792.”

I choked on my crantini. “You’re over two hundred years old?” I knew drinking vampire blood extended a human servant’s life, but I always figured Estelle was younger for some reason.

“Of course. I’m one of the younger humans serving under a master vampire.”

“Why are you hanging out with me? I can be immature, even for my own age, but I must come across as infantile to you.”

Estelle shook her head. “The key to looking young is feeling young.”

“Here I thought it was vampire blood…”

Estelle snorted and her lips twitched. “It is, but even baby-faced vamps can come across ancient. I didn’t become a human servant because I wanted to feel old and superior. I wanted to be young forever. Youth is my drug and you, my dear, have a boat load of it. I like to surround myself with people from all walks of life, at all stages, but most especially those in their prime.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

I placed my hand on my chest and batted my eyes. “For saying I’m in my prime.” Actually, the thought was kind of sad. If this was me at my best, what did I have to look forward to?

Sitting back in the leather seat that creaked, I drank some more and studied Estelle over the rim of the glass. “So it was the love for eternal youth that led you to sign up to become a vampire’s human servant?”

Estelle’s smile faded and something shuttered in her gaze—an emotion so quick and intense, I couldn’t identify it. “Not quite. That was a bit of a fib and one I hope you’ll forgive me for. My entrance into the world of vampires is one story I’m not ready to share.”

Most vampire stories weren’t material for romance movies, at least not the ones over a hundred years old that I’d read about. Of course, I could be mistaken. Up until Gregor approached me with a job opportunity, I’d steered clear of the vampire community and had to rely on rumours and internet searches as sources of information.

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