Page 26 of Death Raiser

Right. Estelle was only served by Gregor’s guards.

The barista did a double take, but I wasn’t about to apologize for the Master Vampire of Victoria taking necessary precautions to protect his human servant. I shrugged and offered him a small smile before leaving to join Estelle and Guard Number Two.

The warm lights hanging from the ceiling by chains cast a cozy glow over the room, and despite the late hour, over half the tables were occupied. The sounds of low chatter, clinking cups and the gurgle and hiss of the espresso machine filled the air.

Instead of sitting at one of the pedestal tables by the windows where I’d sat with Kang, Estelle had chosen one of the booths along the back wall. The other guard had taken her place, standing with her back to the table to watch the café.

I stopped short and peered up at her—a tall woman with a strong build and sharp features. “What’s your name?”

I had asked earlier, but she refused to answer, pretending not to hear me over the loud music. She had no such excuse now and I wanted to know.

She jerked back and peered down at me.

“Because right now, I’m mentally referring to you as Guard Number Two, and that’s just not right.”

“Little death raiser, my name is Antonia.”

I sputtered. Little death raiser. I was above average in height, thank you very much.

Estelle giggled and waved at me to join her in the booth. “Antonia isn’t a talker. I’m surprised you got that much out of her.”

True enough, the vampire guard had returned her gaze to scanning the café for danger, the little death raiser forgotten.

I scooted over in the red leather seat with ornate brass fixtures and shared a smile with Estelle.

“So…little death raiser…” Laughter continued to dance in Estelle’s gaze. “We no longer have to yell over the music. It’s time to dish all your secrets.”

I snorted and leaned back against the padded seat. Heat still danced in my veins from the drinks and my muscles twitched from all the dancing. “What secrets?”

Estelle pressed her lips together and hummed. “Well, you won’t talk about the detective.” She paused and waggled her eyebrows. When I remained silent, she sighed dramatically before continuing. “What else is going on in your life?”

“Someone has been leaving me roses.”

She perked up at that.

“But it’s not the hot cop and it’s not my brother messing with me. And the last one was left inside my apartment.” I shivered. “My brother is already livid and installing security cameras and I’m pretty sure he’s doing sweeps of the area and will probably attempt to lock me in a padded room at some point. I’ll have to tell Kang, too, and that won’t go down well. I’m not looking forward to the conversation, but I’m not going to stay silent and let some stalker kill me, either.”

“Kang?” She smiled widely, without showing teeth and for a second, she reminded me of a cat just settling down in a patch of sunlight—like she’d start purring any moment. “Is Connor Kang your detective?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And I already know which detective is yours, Lark. Gregor thoroughly investigates those he considers his.” She winked as if that shouldn’t freak me out.

“Does he know who’s sending me roses?” He’d told me he hadn’t sent any flowers and I had no reason to believe he lied, though we spoke over the phone, not in person. Had it been in person, I would’ve had a better feel for the truth. My magic wasn’t technically a lie detector, but I always sensed when the dead tried to lie to me. The magic flared and felt stickier in the air. I had no idea if I could detect a lie from a vampire, but vampires were dead, after all, and whenever I spoke to Gregor, the death magic surrounding him remained constant.

But just because he didn’t lie, didn’t mean he couldn’t mislead. If he had me followed or investigated, he might very well know things I didn’t—like my rose-stalker’s identity.

Estelle opened her mouth to answer my question, but, just then, Pierre arrived with our drinks. Antonia moved to the side to give him room to slide the two lattes across the table. He also placed a small treat bag between us.

“Is someone sending you roses, Ms. Morgan?” Pierre asked.

“Yeah.” I scrunched up my face and snatched my drink from the table. “Thank you for getting the drinks.”

Pierre frowned and glanced at Estelle. His eyes grew wide. “What am I missing? Are flowers no longer an acceptable gift to show affection?”

“It isn’t considered acceptable when the person sneaks into my apartment and leaves them on my bedside table. I have enough on my plate. I don’t need a stalker.”

Pierre straightened and his mouth dropped open. “Oh.”

---