Tymber Dalton - Brimstone Blues

She loved him for it.

She put it in reverse and carefully backed out, circled the driveway to get a feel for the clutch again, then drove down to the highway. She waited for a gap in traffic on Tarpon Springs Road and took a much longer route to get to downtown Tampa, but it allowed her to open up her antique pony on the interstate.

She settled for a FM radio station out of Tampa. She’d need a new radio, but the car ran as good as it ever had. It would have been easy to let the tears flow. Instead, she choked them into submission. She didn’t want to cry, not anymore. There had been enough tears for a while. Mourning Rafe wouldn’t end anytime soon. Tears wouldn’t bring him back, either.

Hawthorne International owned a thirty-story building in south downtown Tampa, overlooking the St. Pete Times Forum complex. When Taz reached the garage, she turned to valet parking. The attendant recognized her, surprised to see her in a different vehicle.

She headed upstairs while fighting a case of nerves in the elevator. Matthias had implemented stringent security measures to prevent a repeat of the attack, but this was a personal demon she had to stare down.

The day they revealed to her she was a vampire.

God, just a couple of weeks ago?

She’d been alone in the executive suites when a strange visitor attacked her. In the nick of time, Matthias and the others rushed in, dispatching the man with a sword.

In disbelief she watched as the man—a daemon pulverem —disappeared in an acrid puff of smoke.

That’s when all hell broke loose, and they were forced to tell her the truth, that they were vampires, and so was she.

Will I ever get used to that little factoid?

The elevator stopped, jarring Taz back to the present. The doors slid open on the top floor, their executive suite. Taz paused before walking past the conference room, then steeled herself and did it. There was no sign of the attack, not that there was much of one to begin with. Albert had disposed of the creature’s knife, and what was left of him after he exploded in a cloud of ash was easily vacuumed up by housekeeping staff.

Taz hadn’t been to the office since.

She’d stormed out after shouting she was quitting, certain they were pulling a horrible prank. Just to be attacked hours later at home by an Other, a beast that made Lon Chaney, Jr.’s Wolf Man look like a Labrador Retriever puppy by comparison.

And rescued, again, by Matthias. Only that time he almost died.

All those events started a downward spiral, circling the proverbial drain, and her self-control dissolved as her powers took over.

The Ice Queen melteth.

No phantom laughter met her thoughts that time.

Taz sat behind her desk and tried to quiet her mind, still feeling nervous and agitated, as if two personalities were at war within her.

Murry strolled in. Taz stiffened, and the cat hesitated.

“Is this a bad time?” he asked.

“You realize I’m not used to talking cats, right?”

He sat, sniffing as if insulted. “ I’m not a cat.” He damn sure looked like one, large and black with a white star-shaped mark on his forehead.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

He jumped into the chair he usually occupied and glared at her. “ You’re welcome, by the way.”

Then she realized what he meant. “You went nuts before the daemon attacked me.”

“I tried to warn you, but you weren’t ready to hear me. Lucky for you, Matthias and the others were downstairs and I found them in time.”

She walked over to the cat that claimed he wasn’t and stroked his back. “So what are you?”

“I’m a familiar. Ask Matthias, he can explain it. Long story, very boring.” He paused. “I’m sorry I scared you that day. I tend toward the theatrical, it’s in my nature. If you make a crack about Broadway shows, I’ll pee on your desk.”

She laughed, sitting in the chair next to the cat that wasn’t. “Thank you, Murry. I really appreciate it.”

He butted his head against her hand and purred. “ No problem. You’re too cute to let you get skewered.”

There were things to do, messages to answer, and an hour later Taz was absorbed in her work and feeling a little less abnormal. Albert poked his head in her office before lunch.

“Can I buy you a plate of picadillo?” The restaurant downstairs served excellent authentic Cuban food.

“Hi, Albert.”

He stepped inside. “Matthias didn’t send me. Please don’t be upset.”

“I know. I’m not.” Except for when they were at Yellowstone, Albert Thompson—Matthias’ right-hand man—came in to work nearly every day. He was as much a workaholic as she was. “It’s okay.” She glanced at her slowly shrinking to-do list. “You know, I could use lunch.”

“You and I don’t get to eat alone often, Taz.”

“Where is Robertson, anyway?” she asked as they headed downstairs.

Albert’s face briefly clouded. “He’s with Matthias, taking care of some other business.”

Taz had a feeling that was a euphemism for Rafe’s affairs, but she didn’t press. She didn’t want to know. Later, maybe, when she felt steadier emotionally. She’d done well so far.

Lunch was, as always, excellent. Taz sensed Albert wanted to say something, and he finally did. “I know this has been a very difficult couple of weeks for you.”

“You and Robertson are very skilled in understatement.” Albert’s silky, cultured British accent matched his tall, angular, lanky frame. Tim Robertson’s British accent was all rounded and warm, much like him. Both possessed blue eyes of the same eerily clear color.

Albert smiled. “Quite.” He reached out and touched her hand, met her gaze. “Taz, I know you’re hurting. I wish you would open up to us, let us help you.”

Her eyes blurred. She refused to cry. She’d had enough of that over the past several days. More than enough to last her a lifetime, thank you very much. She stroked Rafe’s ring with her thumb. It was a small comfort.

“I appreciate it, Albert. I really do. Right now, the best thing for me is work. I know we’re going to London, but I need to do this to calm my nerves. Besides, it’s Thursday, so it’s a short work week. It’s what I need right now.”

His eyes searched her face, then he released her hand. “Please remember we’re here for you to lean on should you need us. All right?”

“Thank you.” A thought crossed her mind, and she laughed.

“What?”

“Remember out in LA when you hired me, and the girl came in and took my blood and I joked about ‘staff vampires?’”

“Yes?”

“You looked like you saw a ghost.”

“Your comment did startle me until I realized what you meant.”

She smiled. “You also welcomed me to the ‘family.’”

“Yes, I did.”

“I didn’t know you really meant to the family.”

“Well, you technically are of the family, even before you and Matthias finally admitted your feelings for each other. You’re a fellow Clan member.”

A horrifying thought struck her. “Matthias and I aren’t kissing cousins or anything, are we?”

Albert laughed, then toned it down a notch so as not to draw attention. “No, dear. His origins are the Western European Clan, yours were the Eastern. Well, at least your mother was. Even if your father was of the line, the closest you could possibly be are very distant cousins many times removed. Matthias knows his family lineage.”

“I thought he was in charge of North America?”

“He is. Because he came over first, and is the oldest here, he’s head of the Clan here. Rafael was…” Albert let the sentence drift, perhaps fearing her reaction. He collected his thoughts and continued. “It’s simply a label for who is where. Technically, the only ‘true’ members of the North American Clan are those born here. Like yourself, they are all descended from elsewhere. Same with the South American Clan.”