Page 55 of Newly Undead in Dark River

“Do you want the Sheriff to be one of your beaus?”

“Yes. Who says beau, though? This is the twenty-first century, you cad,” I joked. None of this was revolutionary. “This is easy. I want to tell you this stuff. You’re my therapist.”

He grinned, and it was sly and a little alarming.

“Do you find me attractive?”

I desperately wanted to say no. I tried to make my lips form the words, pursing them tightly, pressing my tongue to the roof of my mouth. But when I opened it, all that came out was a squeaked, “Yes.”

He grinned and moved back to his chair. He pulled out a tub of Ben and Jerry’s and threw it to me. “This is how I know you aren’t a spy, Raine. Maybe one day your mental shields will be strong enough that you could lie to me, but today isn’t that day.”

I just blinked at him, the ice cream tub chilling my fingertips. “So, I can’t lie to you at all?”

He shook his head. “Sure, you can. You can tell me that you like the color scheme of this office, or that my taste in interior decorating is second to none, as long as I don’t ask you a direct question. Try it.”

I stuck the ice cream in my mouth. “Your taste in furniture is sublime.”

He let out a small giggle, looking around at the room. No one would ever believe that was anything but a lie. “Raine, what do you think of my taste in furniture?” he asked softly.

“It looks like a yard sale threw up in a thrift store.” I slapped a hand over my mouth. Oh my god. “I’m not sure I like this, Nico.” He didn’t need to compel me for the truth of that statement. The idea that I couldn’t lie to him, not really, gave me cold sweats. Not that I’d ever felt the inclination to lie to him, but the security blanket was there.

I watched him scoop out the inside of one of the cupcakes and then spooned his ice cream into the center, creating some kind of icecream/cake abomination. “Yes, it is a rare ability that is both a gift and a curse. For instance, Raine, does my ability scare you?”

“Yes.” That one didn’t even need much compulsion.

“Did you ever think I was your maker?”

“Yes. But to be fair, I suspected everyone at first.”

“Do I scare you?”

“A little bit.”

“Would you ever let me take you on a date one day?”

“Yes. One day.”

I don’t know who was more shocked by my answer. I was at capacity for love interests. I couldn’t do another one. Juggling four was more than any one woman had a right to expect. Nico gave me a sad smile. “And there is the curse of it, no? An answer coerced is no real answer. It’s like your Google. The answers are all there, but the magic has left the world.”

Obviously, he had never tried to get answers from Judge. But wasn’t some of that dangerous mysteriousness what I found so appealing about my Drifter?

I looked at my watch. Our session was over, and I probably could have survived without today's bit of show and tell. When I left the office, I’d convince myself that he was asking these questions not because he had any interest in me, but because they were the types of questions everyone wanted the answers to. Does Lawrence from Accounting 101 think I’m cute? Does Jimmy from second grade think I’m nicer than Sheila Lepkowski? It was natural to have a morbid curiosity for these things. It wasn’t because the ancient vampire had a thing for me.

But still, as I left the room, I gave him a small half-smile. “Not today. But one day.”

Then I ran out of there like the chicken with its ass on fire.

Chapter Twenty-One

Idowned my third Ruby Slipper, a vodka and raspberry concoction so strong that if you knocked them down fast enough, you got a light buzz. An overturned cupcake was sitting atop stripey witches legs with bedazzled red heels was today’s cupcake. Tonight’s movie was, you guessed it, The Wizard of Oz.

We had a bit of a crowd tonight, and I wasn’t sure if it was because I was a zoo exhibit, or because movie night had been on a little hiatus while I sorted my life out. Either way, couples canoodled on the big leather couches, drinking and whispering under their breath. Four boyfriends, still alone on a Friday night. Wasn’t that the story of my life?

Glinda was telling Judy Garland that there was no place like home, and tonight, I believed it. Homesickness was hitting me hard. Maybe because Tex was gone, and he’d brought all the guilt and pain back to the surface. And then he’d left.

Finally, Dorothy was back home, with guardians who didn’t believe her tale and a life in black and white, and I’d never related so hard to a fictional character in all my life. What was the point of wishing I could go back? Could I give all this up? The knowledge that this entire supernatural world existed, and go back to the black and white of the human world?

Finally, the credits rolled, and everyone started to filter out of the Cafe, I switched off all the lights. I thought Walker would be by, but I guess I only had to climb the stairs.

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