Page 27 of Fangs with Benefits

I find the motley clan of vampires in a small, dank pub at the edge of town, and it takes only a second to see that the witches were right—these vampires look more like a disheveled motorcycle club or an inner-city gang than they do aristocracy. My heart sinks at the idea that I might not find what I'm looking for among this bunch. Still, appearances can be deceiving, and I won't give up yet.

I walk over to their table and sit down, my heart beating nervously. It's a bold move, walking into a clan of vampires who look like they could skin me with their fangs right here and no one would dare say boo to them.

A couple of them eye me curiously. One, a blonde, middle-aged man, looks like he's begging to sink his teeth into me, and another one just has his mouth hanging open, shocked at the brazen way I walked up to their little group.

"Can we help you with something, little lamb?" a younger, redheaded vampire asks with narrowed eyes and an angry tone.

"I've come all the way from Boston. I'm looking for a vampire," I say, fumbling over my words. "A particularkindof vampire—one with royal blood."

"Royalty?" The blonde one laughs. "Here?"

Ugh.I came all this way only to find out that my research was incorrect. None of these vampires are going to hit the mark. I've wasted time on a wild goose chase.

"Why are you looking for a royal vampire?" the redhead asks. "Who's leading the vampire clan now in Boston?"

"A vampire named Treyton," I answer. As soon as I mention his name, all their eyes light up. A few of them shoot each other glances. If I'm not mistaken, they all look like theyrecognizeTreyton's name.

"Hang on, do youknowTreyton?"

"Not personally," the redhead answers. "But we all knowof him."

"I don't understand, how do you know of a vampire outside your own clan?" I ask. "No offense, but none of you look like you spend much time around the Boston clan."

The blonde one laughs and the rest join in. But I don't think they're laughing at me. They obviously all know something I don't.

"Treyton isn't just royal," the redhead says with a grin. "He's also a formerthief."

It takes a second for what he said to register. I can't picture Treyton as a thief. But then again, I couldn't picture him as with royal blood at first, either.

"Tell me what you know," I say, leaning in. "Please."

To make it worth their while, I run my hand over the dish of peanuts sitting at the center of the table. Before their eyes, the nuts turn into silver coins. It's an old transfiguration spell, one that Sybil taught me years ago, and easy for almost any witch worth her weight in salt to cast.

The blonde lets out a small gasp of surprise, and the redhead laughs boisterously as he grabs a handful of coins and shoves them into his pockets.

Now I have their cooperation.

"You witches think you can do whatever you want." A clan member who's been silent so far speaks up, his blue eyes glaring at me. I worry that this might get confrontational. "And by God, you can do just that as long as you keep the coin coming!"

They all laugh, pocketing the last of the coins. Then, I listen as they tell me stories about how Treyton's previous life as aninfamousthief. I have a hard time not letting my jaw drop to the ground when I hear some of them. Still, I listen intently, trying to commit everything they tell me to memory.

"He was a rebellious royal who chose a path of crime instead of following his destiny to inherit the Manhattan vampire clan," the blue-eyed man explains.

"Manhattan? Don't you mean Boston?" I ask.

"Nah, I meanManhattan. Treyton isn't from Boston. He's from New York City. He relocated to Boston to escape a life of crime. His family held a powerful clan in Manhattan, and it was destined to be his. But he turned his back on all that and dabbled in morequestionableactivities."

The redheaded vampire sitting next to me laughs. "Personally, I always admired the guy. Treyton didn't want power, he wantedfreedom."

That sentiment rings in my ears like an echo. It's something I've heard Treyton mention before too, and it makes wonder whatItruly want. Everyone is always so caught up in trying to keep the peace, shouldering responsibilities and adhering to hierarchies that are supposed to promote equality but don't actually help anyone.

"Well, regardless," the redhead continues. "He left for Boston and left his old life behind. But his reputation is widely known by many who either love him or hate him."

"And his family?" I ask, wondering if there are more nobles in New York City who might be able to solve my problem.

All I get in response to that question are blank looks and a few shrugs. These guys don't seem to care much about what happens outside of Salem, or outside of this pub, for that matter.

They don't give me a lead on a replacement for Treyton; instead, I just hear even more reasons to distrust him. He withheld information about himself. He never told me that he was a thief, although I can understand why he wouldn't want to divulge that I suppose. It's not like the two of us exchanged personal backstories. But I thought Iknewhim more than I apparently do. Regardless, everyone deserves a second chance.

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