Page 127 of By the Pint

“How did you get past the threshold?” Claus asked.What was the point of us being here if they could get in anyway?He turned to Dima and his mind exploded with a million relayedtitbits. Things Killian had told Claus about Dima and about me. Stats and facts and assumptions, and now, realisations, puzzle pieces clicking together, fondness for Killian, and jealousy for Dima.

Claus had been with Killian when he first met me. I saw myself right there in his memories, a twenty-five-year-old human, laughing—fake laughing, drinking, spotting Killian. Killian had been in Bordalis trying to find out stuff about Dima, to present him with the information. My mind reeled.

“Oh my gods,” Dima said and then he turned to me. “They’re both telepathic, too.”

“Surprise!” yelled the woman named Gabriella, her arms held aloft in ata-dafashion. “It’s Gabby. You can just call me Gabby. You used to call me Gobby Gabby, actually. Though never to my face.”

“I’m sorry?” I said, phrasing it like a question. I wasn’t sure if she had taken offence. “Did, um, did I know you were telepathic?”

The centaur laughed. “You never had a clue.”

“You were so wrapped up in Casey World, it never even occurred to you,” Gabby interjected, flicking her long, dark hair over her shoulders and rolling her eyes.

“Hey,” Dima said, and a low rumbling growl filled the space.

I placed a placating hand on his bicep. Pretty sure they meant no insult by it, and if they did, well, it sounded like I deserved it.

A few moments passed in silence. We each bounced our gazes around to the other three.

Claus cleared his throat. “Well, this is awkward—”

“Did I really call you Gobby Gabby?” I asked, guilt bubbling in my gut. Gabby raised her eyebrows in an expressionthat read,why would I make this up?“I’m sorry. I … Why didn’t you ever say anything to me?”

The part-human woman and the centaur shared a look.

“Killian asked us not to. You were his favourite, and, well, you were good for him,” Gabby said. “Before you came along, Killian was, eh …” She put her pinky in her ear and gave it a wiggle.

“He was a loose cannon,” supplied Claus.

Gabby laughed. “I was going to say a fucking nightmare. Dragging Claus all over the country to find out everything he could about …” She lifted a hand, pointing towards Dima. “He couldn’t keep a familiar for longer than six months. They would all reach their limit sooner rather than later and fuck off, leaving us to dig him out of whatever trouble he was getting into next. But then you came along and suddenly Killian paid attention to the important things, and the house wasn’t a wreck, and he was a nicer person to be around. You were only a human, but you were such a dominating presence. You helped keep his thoughts ordered. He loved you. He didn’t want to give you up. Plus,” she added. “You weren’t wrong about me. About my nickname. I’m a gossip whore.” She shrugged, laughed again, and slapped me on the arm.

“So,” Claus said, after a few moments passed. I had no clue how to respond to Gabby. There were mind-readers, that weren’t vampires, and I’d met them and never figured it out. I sort of wished I remembered these details from my human life, but another part was glad I couldn’t. Grateful it was firmly in my past. “We’ll be off, then. See you next Thursday.”

“You’re in this club as well?!” Dima said. His barriers were up, but he sounded annoyed.

Gabby winked at us, hooked her arm around the centaur’s … bit where his man-body met his horse-body, andDima and I watched as they high-tailed out of the house into the dark gardens.

“How did you know they were telepathic?” I asked Dima as soon as the clip-clopping of Claus’s hooves grew faint.

He shrugged. “Sometimes you can sense it, like smell it. Smells like a minty guff. Not always, though, like Nina, for example. She didn’t have that tell. I think she might be in some kind of gods tier of ultra telepaths.” He laughed, and I glanced around the grand entrance hall of Killian’s mansion. Our home for the next half a century or so. “How are you feeling?” Dima’s voice was gentle, calming, careful. “Remember anything?”

It was almost exactly the type of place I’d imagine a vampire living. Dark, flocked walls, creaky floorboards, dusty alcoves displaying creepy things that only vampires — and humans with an undead kink — would display. Like taxidermy birds and forest animals, and skulls in jars, and oil portraits of pale people wearing ruffs. Cobwebs bridged every banister spindle to each other. Killian had only been in gaol for a year. The dirt far preceded that. Had I allowed all this dust as a human?

“I don’t remember it,” I said, peering into the kitchen area. Or what appeared to be the kitchen area. “But I feel … I don’t know, I feel …”

“Yes?” Dima took my hand in his.

“I feel kinda like I want to cry.”

“Oh, Casey.” He pulled me into a hug, pushed my head to his shoulder. No tears came. “We can go to a hotel if you—”

“No. No, I want to stay.” After a few silent moments, I took his hand again, and through instinct perhaps, guided him farther into the house.

“Leave the bags and boxes. We’ll get them later,” he said.

We wandered about the manor for a while. I had no memories of what happened here before. Sometimes I got vibes,but that was as close to recollection as it came. In the library the vibes were particularly strong, and in a room which was almost certainly Killian’s coffin room. If the numerous paintings of Killian himself were anything to go by.

When we reached the top floor and turned left, my heart started skittering all over the place. A plain wooden door with a peephole stood in front of us. It must have been half of the entire upper section of the house. This was my little part of Killian’s home. Without knowing how, I knew it. Felt it in the cells of my blood and the marrow of my bones.

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