Jeaniene Frost - This Side of the Grave

Yep, this was who we’d come here for.

“Hi, Timmie,” I said in a low voice.

His head whipped up, revealing a face with five o’clock shadow on his jaw and faint lines around his eyes and mouth. He looked different from the gangly boy who’d been my neighbor seven years ago when I was a college student by day and a vampire hunter by night. In addition to the stubble on his face, the laugh lines, and his hair being longer, his frame had also filled out to a stockier, more muscular physique. Getting older looks good on him , I mused.

“How do you . . . ?” he began. Then his voice died away while his eyes widened.

“Cathy?” he managed. He looked me up and down, his shocked expression changing into a smile that wreathed his face. “Cathy! I knew you weren’t dead!”

Timmie continued to stare at me witha mixture of glee and disbelief. I smiled back, happy to see hints of the boy I’d been friends with amidst the differences in the man in front of me. When Tate told me Timmie was the troublesome reporter we needed to collect tonight, I’d been stunned, but pleased at the thought of seeing him again.

“I can’t believe it,” Timmie marveled. “You look exactly the same, except, uh, you didn’t use to dress like that before,” he added as goggled at my outfit. Then he made as if to hug me, but stopped when he noticed the man striding up to my side.

“You!” Timmy burst out, losing the smile while he blanched. “God, Cathy, you’re still with him?”

I smothered a laugh at the incredulity in his tone. “Yep. Married him, too.”

Bones gave Timmie a grin that managed to be predatory even though he didn’t flash any fang. “She does indeed look very fetching, but if you continue with that particular line of thought, I’ll neuter you for real this time.”

Timmie’s cheeks reddened. “I—I didn’t . . . I mean, I wouldn’t . . .” Then his eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute. You don’t look any different, either, except your hair’s dark now. Neither of you look a day older than the last time I saw you.”

Fear wafted from him as he looked back and forth between me and Bones, putting it all together with what he’d learned about this club. I watched him closely as I waited. The Timmie I’d known had been open-minded and kind, albeit ignorant about the undead like everyone else. How much of who he used to be was still left in the person in front of me? Had the years changed not just his appearance, but his tolerance as well?

“I’m right about all of it, aren’t I?” he asked at last, very softly. “Some of these people . . . they’re not human.”

“No, they’re not,” I answered in a steady tone.

His face paled even more as he looked around at the people by the nearest bar. On the surface, nothing about them looked different from patrons gathered around any other bar, especially since Timmie couldn’t see the handful of ghosts circling over the last seat on the left. But every so often, emerald would glint from a person’s gaze. Or someone would move with a quickness that Timmie’s subconscious would register even if his eyes couldn’t follow.

Finally his shoulders squared as he looked back at me and Bones. “You two aren’t human, either.” A statement, not a question.

“No,” I said gently. “We’re not.”

He shook his head like he was trying to clear it. “Those guys, the ones who grabbed me . . . they were gonna eat me?”

No use lying about that, either. “Oh yeah. Definitely.”

He glanced at Bones. “But you won’t.”

Bones arched a brow as if disputing that. I elbowed him while I said, “No, Timmie, he won’t. Neither of us will hurt you.”

“Tim,” he replied, then gave me a wry smile. “No one’s called me Timmie in years.”

I smiled back. “Sure. And it’s Cat, by the way.”

“Cat.” That wry smile remained. “Guess it suits you better than Cathy.”

“No,” Bones said.

Timmie’s— Tim’s —smile faded. I glanced at Bones in confusion. “No what? You think I look like a Cathy?”

“No to what he’s about to ask you,” Bones replied. “You already owe her for saving you from those other blokes. Don’t thank her by asking for another large favor.”

Tim clapped his arms around his head. “My God, you can really hear . . . ? Well, stop it!”

Bones laughed outright. I had to admit Timmie did look funny clutching his head, but I didn’t join in Bones’s chuckles.

“Try wrapping tinfoil around your nog next, see if that works better,” he suggested devilishly.

I gave Bones a sharp look, sorry he couldn’t read my mind anymore to hear my mental reprimand. “Stop it. I might have been tempted to do the same thing myself when I knew certain people could eavesdrop in my head.”

Tim let his arms down. “I don’t care what he says, you gotta help me,” he got out in a rush.

Bones rolled his eyes and then gave Tim a glare that would have struck most people mute out of terror. “Right thick, aren’t you? Let’s see if I can’t explain my position better outside.”

Off the premises, where violence was allowed? “Don’t even think about it,” I drew out warningly.

“Not for that,” he replied, though his mouth twitched in a way that said the thought had crossed his mind. “Believe me, Kitten, you’ll have wasted your time saving him before if others hear what he’s about to ask you.”

That didn’t sound promising. But I needed Timmie—dammit, Tim!—for something, too, so I’d hear out his request. Didn’t guarantee I’d agree to whatever he wanted, but I’d listen.

“Okay. Let’s go outside and talk.”

Timmie gave Bones and me a speculative glance. “Before we go, I gotta know: If mind-reading abilities are real, there’s something else I wondered if fiction got right about vampires—”

“Ask me if I sparkle and I’ll kill you where you stand,” Bones cut him off with utmost seriousness.

“Not that.” Timmie’s mouth quirked before his expression became serious and, oddly, hopeful. “When I go back to my apartment, is it true that, uh, your kind can’t come inside?”

I hated to destroy his sense of safety, but believing that would only be dangerous for him.

“Sorry, that’s a myth. Vampires don’t need to be invited to go anywhere they want to.” I didn’t add that we’d already been in his apartment earlier, finding out from his roommate where Timmie would be tonight. Not that the young man remembered Bones and me questioning him once we’d given him a few flashes of our gaze, but I thought that was more information than Timmie could handle at the moment.

He was silent. “Shit,” Timmie said at last, with heartfelt emphasis.

I nodded. Sometimes, that word summed things up better than I ever could.

“Let’s go, before people start to wonder what we’re blathering on about,” Bones said, inclining his head toward the door.

We walked past the crowded parking lot toward the empty one ahead. It was far enough away from the real entrance of Bite that no one should be able to overhear us, aside from Tiny and Band-Aid, who still kept watch in their car. I couldn’t hear his thoughts, but Timmie’s scent was a mix of excitement, fear, and determination. Whatever he wanted to ask meant a great deal to him.

“Look, if your girlfriend vanished after sniffing around looking for proof about vampires, chances are she’s dead,” Bones stated once we reached the chain-link gate.

I winced at his bluntness. Timmie also looked shaken, but then he raised his chin. “Nadia’s not my girlfriend, and I don’t believe she’s dead. You don’t know her. She’s my best freelance reporter because she can charm any one into doing what she wants.”