Page 10 of How a Vampire Falls

“What if the test isn’t infallible?”

“I’m sure it’s not, but I liked your answers.”

She cocked her head, and the opalescent flecks in her eyes caught the light. “Is it really that simple, or are you evading?”

“I don’t do that,” he said. Yes, two-year-old memories of a certain ruby-eyed woman flashed through his head, but he shut them off. It wasn’t evasion not to spill the story of his worst breakup on a first date. It was common sense.

Leslie cocked one eyebrow. Were his thoughts visible on his face?

“I don’t evade.” This time he might be convincing himself.

“So you waited for me because you’re incredibly romantic. Or incredibly obsessive.”

“Until I got here, I didn’t realize how it would look from your perspective. But I didn’t spend years obsessing, Leslie. I did the relational math, decided to get in contact with you in two years, and in the meantime stopped wasting my time.”

A small smirk tilted her lips. “Efficiency is very important to you.”

“Sure. Straightest path to the desired outcome.”

“Well, I’m more the type to pause on the path and enjoy the view.”

He knew that. Her test answers had hinted at it. But saying so might weird her out, so instead he nodded.

“Okay, forget the test,” she said as though he’d telegraphed his thoughts. “I’m going to treat this like a normal first date. Tell me about yourself.”

“Want to order dessert in the meantime?” He gestured to his plate. “I’ll be finished by the time it comes.”

“Perfect.” Leslie waved down a server with casual friendliness and ordered a slice of chocolate cake. As the server moved away, she said, “Don’t worry. It’s a massive slice, plenty for two people.”

“I’ll taste it, but I’m a meat-and-potatoes guy. I don’t have much of a sweet tooth.”

“Perfect,” she said again.

When he’d finished his steak and the dessert arrived, he ate two bites, not one. Even to a vampire’s palate, the cake was excellent, the chocolate flavor enhanced with exactly the right amounts of espresso and vanilla. But he ceded the rest to Leslie, and she slid the plate to her side of the table without hesitation.

“So, while you enjoy,” he said with a gesture at the rapidly disappearing cake, “anything specific you want to know?”

“First of all, what do you do, and do you like it, and would you ever want to do something else if you could?”

“I’m a forensic accountant. Started out working for a firm, went independent just over a year ago. I investigate organizations and individuals for evidence of financial crime—fraud, embezzlement, laundering, et cetera.”

The fork froze halfway to Leslie’s mouth. “No kidding.”

“Nope.”

“Do you work with the police?”

“Primarily, yes. I’ve worked with insurance companies too, with nonprofits that want to verify their donors are reputable… But at this point most of my work is with law enforcement.”

“You bust white collar criminals for a living.”

“Yep.”

“Do you give testimony? In court, as an expert or whatever?”

“That’s part of the job, yeah.”

“You must be good. Better than average, at least, to go out on your own and also contract with the police.”

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