Page 5 of Dead to Rights
Now, humans and Otherlings bustled between the ramshackle shops. They greeted each other with smiles. They gathered at the diner, or the bakery, or paused for small talk right there on the streets.
He didn’t know what had triggered the change, but he liked it, and he hoped it lasted.
When he recalled things he missed from his mortal life, he didn’t think about expensive gadgets or modern conveniences like streaming channels. Rather, he missed the sense of community. He missed the infectious energy from the places where people came together.
And cheeseburgers. He’d die all over again for a fucking cheeseburger.
Exiting the alleyway beside the apothecary, he searched up and down the main road. Though he spotted quite a few familiar faces, none of them would be much help to him at the moment.
He headed for the diner.
Located at the edge of the village, rumor had it that the building had been the very first structure built along the river. Noah could believe it. The place certainly had a distinctive lean to it, and dimples in the roof showed where it had been patched over the millennia.
Small circles of candlelight struggled to shine through grimy and scratched windowpanes, and rusted door hinges announced his arrival with a deafening squeal. Despite the layer of dust that seemed to coat anything that stood still long enough, the interior managed to feel cozy and welcoming.
Flames leapt merrily in a stone fireplace against the far wall, and the scent of brewed coffee filled the small room. Every slanted table and rickety chair appeared to be filled, a nice change from the barrenness of the past.
He smiled and waved at some of the patrons, doing his best to ignore the way the sand crunched beneath his feet as he made his way to the back of the diner. At the end of the long counter, pushed up against another dingy window, he came to a stop a respectful distance away from the end of the booth there.
“Noah!” Prince Orrin Nightstar beamed up at him from his seat, his piercing gray eyes sparkling with welcome. “Please—” He shook back the sleeve of his robe and motioned to the seat across from him. “—join us.”
Hitching his smile a little brighter, Noah swallowed past the throbbing pulse in his throat as he slid onto the bench beside the other new vampire in town.
A resident for almost a year now, Finn Truitt wasn’t exactly new to the village anymore, but until now, he had been the only vampire to pass through in a while. He also had the uncommondistinction of arriving to the afterlife with no knowledge of how he’d died—or even that he had been made a vampire.
“Hey, Finn.”
“Noah.” His soft brown eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. “Still no haircut?”
Pinching a strand between his fingers, he tugged self-consciously at the chin-length locks. He’d worn his hair in a variety of styles and lengths over the years, but this time, he hadn’t intended to let it grow so long.
He just couldn’t seem to make himself step inside the local barbershop.
“Does it look bad?”
“No, not at all.” Finn’s thick West Texas accent rolled off his tongue like honey as he reached out and tucked the hair behind Noah’s ear. “I like it.”
Noah stilled, his entire body rigid apart from the slight tremble in his fingers where they rested in his lap. His pulse thrummed, his heart fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings, and a swell of heat rushed up his neck and into his face.
Ever since high school, he had been pretty casual about relationships. As such, he had never dated anyone for more than a few weeks, and mostly, he liked to hang out in the friends-with-benefits zone.
Finn had been the first person he’d ever met in both his life and his afterlife that made him seriously contemplate something more serious. Maybe notforever. That word still made him feel itchy. Besides, he’d probably be terrible at it.
Still, something about Finn made him want to try, and lately, his reactions to the cowboy had only intensified.
“So, what brings you here?” Finn leaned back in the makeshift booth, his boots scraping against the wood floor, and stretched his arm along the back of the bench.
“A new soul just arrived.” He glanced at Orrin as he spoke, trying to gauge his reaction. As the Guardian of Lost Souls, the elf would know better than most how to handle the situation. “She’s a vampire.”
Finn straightened again, his expression more alert. While Orrin’s reaction was subtler—just a slight flare of his eyes—he, too, looked interested in the information.
Naturally, they didn’t get many immortal souls in the Underworld, especially not those who chose to stay in the village. Not a lot of dead vampires, fae, or dragon shifters taking up residency in apartments at the Tower.
“I don’t know her story,” he continued. “Bane thinks we should keep an eye on her, though.”
Orrin nodded, his brow lined and his expression thoughtful. Finn, however, stiffened, his angular jaw jutting at a defensive angle.
“Who is Bane?”
