Page 88 of My Vampire Plus-One

“Do you have special abilities, too?”

“Yes, but…We’re getting sidetracked.”

I got the sense that special vampiric abilities were a touchy subject for him, so I let it drop. “I can’t leave here until the snowplows come, but I feel like I need todosomething, knowing he’s in trouble. What else can you tell me about The Collective? Are there any online resources I can read for more information about them?”

“There’s not much about them online,” he said. “They aren’t modern enough to know how to use the Internet well. I have heard they quite enjoy staging blood bank break-ins the morning after stadium concerts, but that’s more rumor than substantiatedfact. Not to mention tacky, if true.” He paused, and then added, “Icantell you that they pose as humans most of the time. The latest I’ve heard is that they run a farce of a nonprofit organization that doesn’t do much of anything besides hold board meetings.”

My eyebrows shot up. Vampires, I knew nothing about. But nonprofits, I understood. At least when it came to their tax returns. But something about this didn’t add up. “Why would vampires need a nonprofit?”

“I have no idea,” Frederick admitted. “Probably to make themselves feel important. Near as I can tell, that’s why they do just about everything.”

“Do you know the name of the nonprofit?”

“It’s probably justThe Collective,” he said. “The Annals of Vampyric Loremay have something about it. I know it contains at least a few entries about them.” When I didn’t respond, he added, “The Annalsis what you might get if you crossed a vampire history book with a human encyclopedia. It’s wonderfully thorough.”

When I got back to Chicago, I would ask for login credentials to my firm’s GuideStar account so I could look The Collective up there. GuideStar allowed users to search public records for all nonprofit organizations with federal tax-exempt status.The Collectivewas probably too common a name for GuideStar to yield useful results, but it was worth checking.

I couldn’t do it until I had access to the firm’s account, though.

“Where can I find a copy ofThe Annals?” That didn’t sound like something I’d be able to check out of my local library, but maybe the University of Chicago had it somewhere in its massive stacks. They had all kinds of weird books in their basement.

“I happen to own the complete set.” The pride in Frederick’s voice was unmistakable. It reminded me so much of how Dad spoke of his favorite history journals I couldn’t help but smile. “Making fun of me for owning it is one of the few things Cassie and Reginald enjoy doing together.”

“Could I take a peek at it when I get back to Chicago?”

“Of course,” Frederick said. “But do limit yourself to the sections pertaining to The Collective. As fascinating asIfind vampiric history, there are large sections of it that could be upsetting for a human to read. Which I’m sure you can understand.”

No more needed to be said about that. “I’ll stick to what I’m looking for,” I promised. I glanced back at the living room couch, where Reggie had left most of his belongings. Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I said, “Reggie left his phone behind, so I don’t have a way to get in touch with him. But if you talk to him—”

“I expect he will arrive this evening,” Frederick said. “He didn’t want to return to your cabin in case him doing so led The Collective back to you. I can pass on any message you like.”

Thisevening? He’d only left the cabin that morning. The idea that Reggie could fly that fast stunned me. “Okay. When you talk with him, can you tell him that—”

I stopped. WhatdidI want Frederick to tell him?

That I was relieved he was okay? That I’d been worried about him?

That being this worried about someone I’d only just met terrified me?

“I’ll tell him to call you,” Frederick offered. “You can take things from there.”

“Yes,” I agreed, heart in my throat. “Please do. And thank you.”

•••••••

I was just settling downto an evening glass of wine and the rest of Sophie’s e-book when I heard the telltale signs of a snowplow making its way down my street.

I sprang to my feet and ran to the front window. It was past eight o’clock and very dark outside, but sure enough, there was Joe McCarthy, the elderly man who’d been clearing this area since I was a kid, driving down the street in his makeshift pickup truck snowplow.

If he’d already made it to this street, the major roads should be just fine by the next morning. All I’d have to do would be use Dad’s snowblower on the driveway and throw my suitcase in the car, and I could be off.

Grinning, I texted Frederick with the update.

AMELIA:I’m getting plowed!

FREDERICK:That’s what she said

I stared at my phone. I didn’t know Frederick well, but what little I did know made it hard to imagine him making such a crass joke.

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