Page 7 of Risking Immortality

“Here I am,” I reply.

“I thought you would have been home hours ago.”

I suppress my eye-roll. I haven’t called my parents’ house home for years. “I stayed at the club to get some work done.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to take a few days off, Amelia. Maybe that’s why you haven’t found your mate.”

“Yes, paperwork is the reason,” I mutter. “You know, it’s not my fault, right?”

“What do you mean?” Mother raises her sunglasses to her head, her eyes lock on to me. I don’t know where my emotions are coming from, but I’m suddenly pissed that my family is constantly making me feel like it’s my fault I haven’t found a match. Like I warrant the future that lies ahead of me.

“I’ve looked, Mother, I’ve been out. I know you all think I sit around doing fuck all in my library and sometimes, on an evening, that’s exactly what I do. But not all the time. It’s not my fault I haven’t found her, so will you all stop making me feel like a fucking failure! I get it. I’m the disappointment and I’m sorry that one of you will have to put me down, but it’s not my doing.” My voice has risen and I’m panting. I can feel the blood rushing through my ears. Where this sudden outburst has come from, I don’t know. What I do know is that I need to leave.

Turning on my heel, I run back inside, ignoring a blur of shocked faces as I go. Sprinting upstairs, I change into my leathers and run to my bike. Nothing and no one is going to stop me. Turning the throttle, I wheel spin out of my parents’ garage.

My mind is racing. Is the madness already starting? I’m the calm daughter, the rational, reasonable one. Not the child that acts in anger or with vats of emotion. Is this it? Am I seeing what will happen to me? Will I decline from now on?

I kick up my speed, tearing through the streets until I hit the 101. I don’t give a shit about the speed limit now. I’m determined to outrun my spiraling mental state.

I couldn’t tell you how many hours pass. Eventually, though, my mind and my speed reduce to a safe level. The sun is setting, and I know I have to go back.

As I pull into the garage, I see my mother leaning against her Yamaha. We remain silent as I park the bike next to hers. Taking my helmet off, I struggle to look in her eyes. “Where did you go?” she eventually asks.

“Nowhere in particular,” I answer. We grow silent again. I take a chance and look up. Her eyes are soft and understanding. They are also marred with fear.

“My darling, I… we never meant to make you feel you were failing us. Your father and I never want you to think that. Do you understand?”

I nod but find it impossible to answer with words. My throat feels raw.

“We’re just scared, honey. I’m sorry that has come across as blame-shifting. We just love you so much and the thought…” Her voice cracks and I move to take her into my arms. The reality of the situation is that the Loch family is scared. Holding her tight, I let my tears fall. I might be a realist, but I’m still a person. A vampire that doesn’t want my life to end in one year. That doesn’t want to put my loved ones through that kind of pain.

We hold each other until our tears have dried. Taking my hand, Mother guides me back into the house. The dining table is set, and all my siblings are sitting waiting, along with my father. “I’m sorry honey,” he whispers as he hugs me.

“We don’t blame you,” Laurence adds. “We’re just scared.”

“I know. I’m sorry for getting so worked up. I don’t know what that was.”

“It was natural, sis,” Lucas says. “I don’t think any of us realized how much pressure we were putting on you.”

“I’m still setting you up,” Lucille calls from the far end of the table. I roll my eyes, but for once I don’t feel she is being antagonistic.

“We’re here for you, Amelia,” Marcus whispers in my ear as I sit next to him. I squeeze his hand in a silent thanks.

The chatter breaks off into individual conversations, which makes me feel better. I’d prefer a mundane chit chat rather than another round of “woe is me, I’m going to die soon” type of conversation.

“Hey, did you tell that new bartender who you were?” Aliah asks, amused. The table grows quiet, and I can see the questions on their faces. I laugh and recount what happened with Erin.

“Oh my, she sounds feisty,” my mother laughs. That’s one way to describe Erin. She’s definitely feisty.

“I’m going to stop by this evening and introduce myself,” I say. It’s on the tip of my tongue to mention that strange scent I got from her, but something makes me hold back. Maybe I’d drunk too much, and it distorted my senses. I’ll find out this evening.

It’s almost nine by the time I excuse myself from the table. This evening’s attire is a black cocktail dress. It’s not too fancy but makes me feel sexy. I pair it with three-inch heels and some simple eye make-up. My hair is in a high ponytail, and I know I look damn good.

Insomnia is relatively busy by the time I arrive. It’s still very early for a club, but I’m happy to see there is a decent crowd at the bar. Deciding I want a few minutes to observe Erin, I lower myself onto a bar stool at the far end. I have a clear line of sight and I like what I see.

Erin is still as graceful as she was last night. However, tonight she is less fire and brimstone and more earthly paradise. She’s laughing with Kit, our other bartender. Kit has been in my employ for seven years, at least.

They work together well. My eyes wander over the crowd at the bar, and, to no surprise, Erin has more than a few admirers. One guy in particular seems taken with her. He’s handsome if you’re into that kind of thing. I wonder if Erin is. So far, she has remained completely professional with him. He has tried to buy her a drink three times in the few minutes I have been sitting watching. Each time she blows him off without being rude. She has more patience than I do.

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