Page 27 of Sore Throat, Slight Fever

Burton chuckles. “She is a looker, that’s for sure.” Burton’s eyes dart down to the threshold and Rory realizes what he had seen earlier. “You live here alone?”

Rory knows Officer Burton spotted Calliope’s boots by the door, one turned over on its side and showing off its feminine heel and pointed toe. Since he’s standing right next to them, it’s also painfully obvious that they are too small for him.

“I live here with my wife,” Rory says, the lie forming so quickly on his tongue that he barely realizes what he’s said until he hears his own voice adding, “It’s just us two.”

Burton’s eyebrows go up, emphasizing his sweaty forehead. He’s not as young as he looked at first, deep grooves of age showing along his sallow skin. “Is she in? Maybe I could ask her a few questions. Show her the picture.” He smiles again, wider than before. Rory supposes it might be charming to anyone but him.

“Of course,” he says calmly, his mind already running through various scenarios. It’s been at least fiftyyears since he’s had to use his compulsion for anything major, like erasing a memory. Slipping into a mind is one thing, but altering it takes more skill, more energy.A bigger meal.

Can he do that now? Grab Officer Burton and force him to forget coming here? Replace the memory of the house with something else?

Rory steps back and lets Burton pass him, pointing toward the kitchen door. “Just through here,” he says, fingers clenching as Burton walks down the hallway.

He reaches out, but too late—the kitchen door has already swung open, and Burton takes a step into the kitchen, introducing himself to Calliope.

Rory follows, and, for a moment, as the kitchen door swings behind him, tapping against his back, he wonders if he’s going a bit mad.Too much time alone.Because the woman standing in the kitchen, preparing a pot of tea, is not Calliope.

Or, Rory realizes, catching a whiff of her scent overlaid with the frozen herbal layer of magic, she doesn’tlooklike Calliope. If he twists his head to the side and lets his eyesight go fuzzy, he can see the faint shimmer of the illusion she’s somehow conjured.She is a witch, he thinks dumbly, taking in the differences betweenhisCalliope and this one, who introduces herself to Burton as Violet.

Burton’s smile is much wider than he has thus far displayed, and Rory is sure it has something to do withVioletand her curvy hips and tiny waist. The windowis still open and the gentle breeze rustles her sleek, chin-length bob. Her skin is tanned and smooth. She looks like she should be lounging on a beach in the Mediterranean and not in this dark, dusty kitchen. She offers Burton a cup of tea and Rory blinks at the delicate silver bangles adorning her wrists.

Burton declines the tea but does see fit to place a hand on Calliope’s arm as he does so. “I appreciate the offer, ma’am, but I don’t want to take up too much of your time.”

“Oh, of course. How can we help you?”

Rory watches as Burton hands Calliope the poster and a small line forms between her dark eyebrows while she considers the photo of herself. She looks up at Rory, who quickly acknowledges the look and closes his mouth before Burton glances over his shoulder.

“I haven’t seen her,” says Calliope. “Could she have stopped in at the station, dear?”

“No,darling. Like I told Officer Burton, she doesn’t look familiar.”

“Is she in trouble?” asks Calliope, handing the poster back to Burton.

He slips it back into his pocket. “Not all, Violet. We’re just worried about her welfare.”

“Who reported her missing? Her family must be so worried.” Calliope presses a hand to her chest, shaking her head. The emotion is overdone, but only Rory can tell. Burton seems to be eating it up.

“Indeed they are, ma’am.” The officer nodssolemnly and the fact that he’s only answered one of Calliope’s questions does not go unnoticed. Rory narrows his eyes at Burton’s back. “We just want to see her reunited with her family. If you happen to see her, or remember seeing her, please don’t hesitate to give me a call.” He hands Calliope his business card. Rory clenches his fists as Burton once again squeezes her arm as she takes the proffered card.

“Of course, officer.” Calliope takes a step backward, holding the card in front of her like a weapon. Rory doesn’t miss the stiffness of the movement, but Burton does. “I do hope you find her.”

Another burst of air trickles in through the open window, and even as the moist, earthy smell of the lake fills the room, Rory catches a whiff of Burton’s scent, woodsy and spicy and very muchhuman.

It’s a smell that Rory is accustomed to, of course, and he knows well how to temper the thirst that rises as Burton’s heartbeat seems to echo louder in his head. He’s had centuries of practice, after all.

Calliope, on the other hand, has been a vampire for all of two days and when the scent hits her, she tenses noticeably, her nostrils flaring. The illusion flickers andVioletfalls away in front of Burton’s eyes.

Burton, for his part, seems unable to comprehend what has just happened. Even as he blinks rapidly, mouth open to comment on Calliope’s changed appearance, she bounds forward, her hands on his neck before Rory can intervene. He smells Burton’s bloodas she bites into his skin.

Fuck, he thinks. And then for good measure, he says it out loud, the sound barely sliding through gritted teeth. Rory’s hand is on her shoulder in an instant, the manacles ensuring that his strength reigns supreme. He pushes her away roughly and grips Burton’s shoulders.

“Look at me,” he says to Officer Burton, grasping the man’s chin so that he can see into his eyes. He slips into Burton’s mind, overwhelmed, momentarily, by a lustful thought aboutViolet. His hand tightens around Burton’s face as he feels a pulse of anger, the red mist forever at the back of his mind whispering death in his ear. It takes some effort to lighten his grip. “Everything is okay. Just…wait.” Rory steps back, letting his hand fall away. Burton’s pupils dilate with Rory’s command.

Calliope’s lips are smeared in blood, like poorly applied lipstick. Her hand is at her throat, and he can see her fingers trembling.

There is a gentle caw from the windowsill. “It would be a good opportunity to test our theory. That she may not possess all of her vampiric traits,” Kane suggests. “Perhaps Calliope could try compelling the man’s memory away?”

Rory meets Calliope’s gaze and nods encouragingly. “You can do this. Physical connection helps. Make eye contact. Tell him that we couldn’t tell him anything.”

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