Page 13 of Top Secret Vampire

A hawk soared overhead only to dive down, aiming for us. Spooked after the recent attack, I ducked, memories of the seagull bombing fresh in my mind.

Wolf lifted his arms, spreading his cape wide, and with a poof, he disappeared, reappearing between us and the bird, his cape outstretched, and his fangs bared.

The bird screeched and flung itself in the opposite direction.

“Mary, wait,” Flint shouted. His gaze darted to mine. “Mary is my trained hawk. I can’t imagine what’s happening. Mary. Mary!” He rushed toward an open area in the parking lot and held up his arm. The bird soared down and landed on his forearm. Only then did I see the traces dangling from the bird’s ankles.

Wolf reappeared at my side and swept his cape around me, tugging me against his muscular frame. His cryptic voice swept across my ear. “I have you. You’re safe. The bird attacked you,” he growled, glaring Flint’s way.

“Thank you so much.” My heart still beat at twice its regular speed. “Flint said it’s his pet. It must’ve been trying to land on his arm. Back when I went to the community college, he ran the birding club. I’d nearly forgotten. I didn’t join, but my best friend, Charmaine, did. They’d go out early on the weekends to spot various species for their logbooks, and from what I remember, Flint ran a small sanctuary for birds injured in the area.”

Wolf grunted. “You’re suggesting the Buteo jamaicensis did not try to cause you harm?”

“What’s a buteo . . .?”

“Red tailed hawk.”

“Cool that you know that.”

“When you live a long time, you read many books.”

How awesome was that?

Flint remained about ten feet away. “Mary won’t harm anyone. She’s very tame. I raised her from the time she was found lying beside the road, horribly injured.” He stroked the hawk’s spine, and it preened, leaning toward him. “Is it alright if I bring her closer? I apologize for her scaring you both. She was only seeking me.”

“I was not frightened,” Wolf said. “But I assume Reese was. She was recently attacked by a seagull, and I’m sure that experience still haunts her.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I was worried for a second there.”

“Notification of your bird’s intentions would’ve helped us avoid this potentially unfortunate incident,” Wolf said, his voice neutral. He released me from his arms and stepped forward to stand beside me, his cape fluttering around his legs. “Naturally you can bring it closer, though I warn you, if it threatens Reese, I will take action.”

As he walked over and stopped in front of us, Flint’s attention focused on Wolf. “You’re a vampire, right?”

“Indeed.”

“Quite a display you just put on there.” He narrowed his gaze. “You’re out in full sunshine. I thought sunlight would melt you.”

“I’m a born vampire, not made. Nothing makes me . . . melt.” His eyes slanted my way, and why did I get the idea he thoughtImight be able to melt him when no one else could?

I shook off the thought.

“That’s interesting.” Flint’s frown remained, but he didn’t ask further questions, just looked at me. “Again, I’m sorry. Where were we? Oh, yes, I was telling Wolfram that my input significantly contributed to your success.”

I wouldn’t go that far, but he wasn’t the first person—man, in particular—to be eager to take credit for my hard work.

“I read her simple essays and short stories before anyone else,” Flint said, rocking on his heels, his face suffusing with pride. “I only had a few important suggestions for her class final. A novella. She wisely listened to my advice.” His beaming smile turned my way. “I believe I see hints of my efforts in each of your novels. Am I right?”

“Perhaps.” It was hard to remember exactly what he’d suggested. I only took three classes with him; the majority were with other professors. “How’s your own publishing journey going?” I shared my smile with Wolf. “Last I saw, Flint had published three or four books. Thrillers, which I also write.”

Copying me? Nah, it couldn’t be that.

“An author as well?” Wolf said. “How admirable.”

“Oh, well, you know,” Flint said. “I have four novels published now. One of my manuscripts was a finalist for the Brooster Award.”

“Amazing,” I said.

“I’m making slow progress on a new book. I hope to be able to quit my regular job and go full time one of these days. Unlike you,” his voice sharpened, though it was subtle; I doubted even Wolf noticed, “I don’t have the luxury of sitting at a desk all day long, dreaming up intriguing plotlines, let alone traveling to one college or another to guest lecture.”

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