Page 64 of Prince with a Chance of Darkness

When I realized where I knew him from, I gasped.

“Devil Dave?” I asked, surprised to see him. He owned and operated Chicken on a Pitchfork—a place we ate a ton of food from while attending college because Astria had a job there and brought home free food. He’d not aged a day either.

Weirdly, I kind of hoped Dave was catering the meeting. I was hungry.

He glanced at Willa. “Forget to tell her about me?”

Willa blushed. “Yes. Sorry. Things have been busy.”

“He’s a supernatural too?” I questioned, wondering how it was I’d never realized the guy who ran the local chicken on a stick, or pitchfork if he had anything to say on the matter, was more than human.

Henry chuckled. “Yes.”

“Are you?” I asked, finally letting the question fly that I’d had on our dates but resisted mentioning.

Henry tensed but nodded.

“Wow. Is everyone in this town one?” I shot back.

Dave grinned. “Not all. But most are.”

My eyes widened.

“So, why are we all here, Van Helsing?” Dave demanded, his arms crossing over his muscular chest.

“I’m with Devil Dave,” I said, standing. “Why are we all here?”

“Mina,” said Willa, motioning for me to sit down.

“No. I stopped everything, packed bags and rushed out here with Temperance, someone better start talking or they’re going to have me to deal with. I haven’t eaten dinner yet. I’m hangry.”

Willa cringed. “Uh, in that case, guys, you’re going to want to speed this along. No one wants her to start staking things.”

“By things she means you, Boss,” said Austin, who was in his mid-to-late twenties. He had the trademark Van Helsing dark hair and height.

“Shut up, Austin,” said Elis Van Helsing. I’d learned he was who ran things, at least to the public, when it came to Van Helsing organizations. In truth, Bram was in charge.

Austin grinned. “Can I go watch movies with the girls and Marcy? I’m bored.”

Jonathan sighed and looked at Bram. “I often wonder if you were like him when you were his age.”

“No,” said Bram, his voice clipped. “I was not an overgrown child.”

Austin leaned back in his chair, propped his feet on the table, and put his hands behind his head, looking way too pleased to be called a manchild.

Elis, who was next to him, pushed Austin’s feet off the table, making Austin jerk upright in the seat. Elis then proceeded to swat Austin on the back of the head.

“Ouch! You’re not my dad, Elis,” said Austin with a whine.

Just then, a tall man stepped up behind Austin and did it to him.

Austin twisted around in his seat, his mouth open, as if to comment, only to snap it shut.

Elis grinned. “Yeah, but he is.”

“Feed me or free me,” I said, my hand going to my hip.

“Mina, you’re not a prisoner,” said Willa with a sigh.

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