Page 126 of Your Coffin or Mine
I sidle in alongside him, putting the second bag back to my lips.
“So what happened?” he murmurs.
I think back to the horrendous airport experience, remembering how the cloying smell of humans became a distant memory once my gaze landed on the twinkling lights outside. The city was a kaleidoscope of color I had never witnessed, and truly a wonder to see. I swiftly changed into a bat, determined I would sweep the city and find Aubrey overnight in one fell swoop, only to hear the thunderous sound of a foghorn before being swiftly knocked unconscious by a heavy moving vehicle.
“It doesn’t matter. Do you know where she is?”
He looks out at the city street. “Not far from here, actually. But we will need to take a cab.”
A cab.
I drain the rest of my reprehensible dinner, tossing the plastic carelessly aside, and straighten my hair.
“Ugh. Come on, Vlad,” he groans, shuffling to his feet to pick up after me and stuffing the trash into the cooler. “Where are you going?” His tone is suspicious, but I am in no mood.
Buttoning my dirty and tattered suit, the same I wore dancing with her, I walk boldly into traffic. I stop the first yellow vehicle I see, holding out a hand and grimacing as the car horn begins to blare in front of me.
I am done playing with these ingrates, and I will not go another day without Aubrey in my arms.
“Here’s your fucking cab.” I wave at it.
“Dammit, Vlad. You can’t just do that,” Doyle whines as I make my way around the car to the driver.
“I just did.”
The cabbie yells obscenities, obviously enraged.
“Stop screaming,” I tell the human, glad when the poor man quiets, submitting to my power and listening easily, unlikesomepeople. I get into the car, shutting the door quietly behind me, and lean back in the seat.
“You’re not going to coerce every human you see tonight, are you?” he asks outside the car, holding the cooler at his side.
I will if I have to. “Get in the fucking car, Doyle. I am not putting up with any more of your antics this night.”
Headlights flash over his face and body as he makes his way around the automobile to do my bidding. He opens the car door and pops his head inside. “You have money. You are just wasting energy for no reason.”
He climbs into the car, and I stare at the cabbie in the rearview mirror, looking into his ordinary brown human eyes.
“Perhaps you should have told me that, instead of making me believe we were destitute and forcing me to let you turn the castle into an inn.”
“For the last time, it is not an inn. It’s ahotel.” He turns in his seat, his head going back as he does, and I note how he doesn’targue. Just as I suspected. The castle was just one of his many attempts to get me to eat, one large scheme that Doyle came up with just to fuck with me.
His hands go in the air. “You were going to turn into Hilda. What did you want me to do?”
I don’t bother answering. He may very well be right . . . if it weren’t for Aubrey walking through my door.
“You said she would be here,”I say, stepping into Aubrey’s living space, sending envelopes skittering across the floor as my feet collide with a pile of mail at the front of her door. The smell inside the small but cozy looking apartment is stale, the place empty of life.
Doyle sniffs the air. “Her scent is everywhere, but it’s faint.”
It’s clear she hasn’t been here, not in some time at least. I glance around, my attention landing on a plush blanket and a small couch that looks barely large enough for her to lie on comfortably and would surely collapse under my large frame.
“This was the only address she has on record. It’s the one she used for her reservation.” Doyle frowns, stepping around me to investigate. “Maybe she just hasn’t been home yet.”
“Why can’t you just message her Insta account?” I ask.
“I told you. Why doesn’t anything get through that thick skull of yours?” he huffs, shooting me an annoyed look. “She’s blocked me. Not that I know how she found my account, since it’s under my full name.”
Connor O’Doyle. I blanch but worry fills me at the reminder. What if this is her way of saying she wants nothing to do with us? I eye him warily. “Could Frank have done this?”
