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  The campaign office was all aflutter as Morgana walked in. Oscar had gained another two points in the polls, so there was a buzz of excitement in the air. Phyllis was running around organizing the sponsors’ fundraising ball.

  “You’re late,” Phyllis fumed when she spotted Morgana. She glanced at the wall clock, it read a minute past nine o’clock. Morgana pretended to look sheepish, walking over to her desk, her head down. Best not to act like she could get away with anything just because her father was the candidate. She stifled a yawn. She had been out all night scouting around the forest, still trying to get an idea of where the Forest Clan resided.

  “Big night?” came the familiar male voice behind her with a hint of amusement.

  The skin on her arms prickled whenever Gareth was near. The smell of coffee wafting all around her.

  She spun her chair around to greet him, an eyebrow arched. “Since when do you drink –” her voice trailing as he handed her the mug of the steaming beverage.

  “I thought you might need this.”

  “Thank you,” she muttered, touched by his actions, taking the mug in both hands. Things had cooled off a bit between them since the passionate kiss. Morgana chalked it up to how busy they all were, trying to find the location of the Forest Clan. Or maybe he thought the truce meant no more kissing.

  “You’re welcome.” He flashed her a smile, his blue eyes twinkling. Her heart leaped in her chest. Their eyes met, and if she weren’t sitting down, her knees would have buckled beneath her.

  “You know, you should let Alastor and me go on a scouting mission every so often.” His voice dropped to a volume only she could hear. “That way you won’t be so tired, doing the two jobs.”

  Morgana bristled. “It’s fine. I’ve got it covered.” She turned back to her desk.

  “It’s why we came on board, Morgana… to help.”

  She ignored him, turning on her computer.

  “Fine.”

  She felt him walk away. Her heart sank. She turned back to call out for him when the campaign office door opened, and Randalf walked through.

  “Morgana.” He smiled, striding over to her.

  “Randalf, back so soon?”

  He cleared his throat, straightening his tie—a light green silk, setting off the green flecks in his hazel eyes. “I have to make sure the very first mission I oversee goes well.”

  Morgana furrowed her brow. “Couldn’t you have just done all this back at Headquarters?”

  “I have my reasons.” He gazed at her.

  “Oh?”

  “As your superior, I don’t need to justify my actions.” His voice was stern. “I also need regular reports on the mission, Morgana. I came to see why you haven’t been submitting them.”

  “I haven’t anything to report, sir,” she hissed.

  He leaned forward, his eyes darkening. “Don’t test me, Morgana, I know you’re good at what you do, but I can just as easily replace you,” he threatened.

  Her eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Push me,” he snarled. They both heard Phyllis approaching. He quickly stood back up and straightened his tie.

  Gareth had paused the task he was doing and peered at them with pursed lips.

  “Mr. Gettybourgh, how good it is to see you again,” Phyllis purred.

  Morgana and Gareth exchanged a look.

  “You can have him, Phyllis,” murmured Morgana under her breath. She could feel Randalf’s eyes on her, but she pretended to check an email.

  Phyllis’s grin grew wider like an overgrown bullfrog who just caught the fly. As they walked away, Randalf turned to look back at Morgana. She shook her head, feeling grim. An ex like Randalf in her life was the last thing she needed to deal with right now.

  ***

  Morgana had been busy folding flyers. The door to Phyllis’ office opened. Randalf held it for the campaign manager, and Phyllis stifled a giggle as she walked out.

  “So, I hope to see you at the fundraising party, Randalf?” The two of them were walking toward Morgana’s desk.

  “Certainly, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Randalf gave her a charming smile. “It was such a pleasure talking to you.” Randalf once again kissed the back of Phyllis’ hand. Phyllis let out a squeal.

  “You.” She pointed a finger at Morgana. “Make sure Mr. Gettybourgh is on the guest list. He has kindly donated a generous amount to Oscar’s campaign.” She handed the check over to Morgana. “Bank that, will you? Make sure it gets in today.”

  “Yes, Phyllis,” said Morgana, pretending to be impressed by the large sum Randalf was donating.

  “Goodbye, Mr. Gettybourgh,” Phyllis gushed, ignoring Morgana.

  “Please, Phyllis, call me Randalf. Good day to you, too,” Randalf replied.

  Phyllis gave what she would have thought was her most charming smile, which made her face look even more toadlike than usual, turning away with a frightening spring in her step, considering her girth, humming as she went.

  Morgana scrutinized the check in her hand, covering her mouth with her other hand, giggling to herself.

  “What?” Randalf mouthed.

  Morgana leaned over her desk, showing him the check. “You always did have a flamboyant signature.” She tapped her finger on the large ‘R’ scrawled over the signature line.

  Randalf chuckled. “Aw come on, it’s not that bad.”

  “Yeah, it is.” She laughed again.

  “Will you be going to the fundraising ball, Morgana?” Randalf asked.

  Morgana noticed Gareth watching them. “Yes,” Morgana replied. “I mean I have to, don’t I? Being the candidate’s daughter and all?”

  “Will you be taking a date?”

  Morgana shook her head. “Nah, I don’t think so.”

  “Well, I shall see you there, then?” His voice sounded hopeful.

  She raised an eyebrow. “I’ll be there.”

  He gave a polite bow before leaving the campaign office.

  Gareth walked up behind her. “Is he your ex?”

  “Yeah, we dated a long time ago.” She turned to look at him. “How did you know?”

  “He still loves you.”

  Morgana arched an eyebrow, glancing at Randalf’s retreating back. She shook her head. “What? No? I don’t think so. Things have been over between us for over two hundred years.”

  “Well, I think he does.”

  Morgana snorted. “Didn’t you hear our heated exchange when he first arrived?”

  Gareth nodded.

  “That’s the reason why we broke up in the first place. We fought too much, would be how he’d put it. I’d say we fought too much about his infidelity. Kind of a big difference, in my opinion.”

  Gareth seemed to be taking it all in. “So, you’re going to the fundraiser ball, then?”

  “Yep.” She hated repeating herself.

  Gareth cleared his throat. “Look… about the other night.”

  Heat crept up her neck. Gareth’s eyes followed the flow of blood. She remembered all too well the frenzied moment between them. If Alastor hadn’t come along, she would have had sex with him right then and there.

  “What about it?” she asked slowly.

  “Well, I think maybe…”

  “Maybe what?” Her mouth felt dry. Maybe Gareth really didn’t feel about her the way she felt about him.

  “… we should go to the fundraiser together.” He shifted his feet.

  Morgana watched him. She’d never noticed his boyish insecurity before. No, it seemed Gareth did like her after all. “I guess we could class it as our third date, couldn’t we?”

  Gareth smiled. “So, you’re saying yes?”

  “What’s this, a chick flick? I just said it’d be our third date, didn’t I?”

  “Okay, no need to get snippy.” Gareth put his palms up in a defensive pose, but there was a twinkle in his eye. “So, I’ll pick you up?”

  “Meet me there. The whole family has to go together, you k
now, for appearances.”

  “Cool, see you then.” Gareth went back to his work, but Morgana was sure she caught a discreet fist pump.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Morgana gazed at her reflection in the mirror staring back at her. The night of the fundraising ball had arrived. She raked her eyes up and down at the girl staring back, satisfied with what she saw. She was dressed elegantly in a deep red strapless evening gown, her long brown hair falling in spirals down her back.

  “Morgana,” Vivienne called from the living room downstairs. It was time to go. Morgana took one last look at her reflection in the mirror, then hurried downstairs.

  ***

  Morgana stood with her mother who was dressed in an exquisite royal blue gown, a white fur shawl draped around her shoulders. Her blonde hair was twisted up into a French bun, a diamond necklace adorned her chest. They were behind Oscar on the ballroom’s staircase landing.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s my esteemed honor to introduce to you all, our candidate for mayor, Oscar Van Wilden,” Phyllis announced, stepping aside. The campaign manager was wearing a violet gown and quickly stepped aside to avoid being photographed next to Vivienne.

  The crowd applauded. Oscar stepped forward, waving a hand to them.

  “Thank you, Phyllis.” He grabbed her hand and held it up. “My talented campaign manager, everyone!” Oscar announced, making her blush. He let go, and she placed a hand to her cherub cheek speckled with rosacea. “And thank you all for being here,” Oscar continued. “I promise you this won’t be your typical, boring political fundraiser speech. I want you to get to know me on a personal level before you throw your hard-earned cash behind me, so I apologize in advance for being at your disposal throughout the evening.” The crowd laughed. “Please, be merry, drink, eat, and dance.” The audience clapped once more, most of the crowd beaming at Oscar.

  Morgana scanned the happy faces, her eyes landing on Gareth. He looked striking dressed in a black tuxedo, lounging casually at the bar, a glass of single malt whiskey in his hand. Alastor and Ava stood with him. Morgana gave him a warm smile. He responded in kind.

  “Go on and enjoy yourself,” Vivienne whispered in her ear, glancing toward Gareth.

  “I plan on it,” said Morgana slyly, moving toward them.

  “Gareth.” She breathed when she finally reached him.

  “Morgana.” He eyed her up and down.

  “Alastor, Ava. Thank you both for coming.” Morgana gave a polite nod.

  “Any excuse to dress up and look as dashin’ as this,” Alastor tugged on the lapels of his dinner jacket, “… and I’m there. And to support Oscar for mayor, of course.”

  Ava rolled her eyes. She’d worn a meadow-green dress, the color setting off her eyes.

  “I’d have thought you’d be supporting Mayor Coleman? Considering you’ve lived here all your life,” Morgana said to her.

  “I’m still undecided.” She winked, lowering her voice. “I’m using my media connections to get a statement from Oscar.”

  Morgana leaned into her. “Don’t let Phyllis hear you say that. She kicked out all the reporters an hour ago.”

  Ava smiled slyly. “The boys aren’t the only ones with the tenacity to follow their impulses. Besides,” she tucked her clutch under her arm and held her open palms up. “I haven’t got anything on me to record or write with.”

  Morgana laughed, she liked Ava. “Well, I can’t wait to see you in action.”

  “Stay tuned.”

  Gareth cleared his throat, setting down his glass, “Morgana, can I get you a drink?”

  “Yes, I’d love a drink.”

  Ava tugged on Alastor’s arm. “I see an opportunity to talk to Oscar.” She winked at Morgana before pulling her boyfriend away.

  Gareth turned to the bartender. “Two glasses of champagne, please.”

  “Trying to get me drunk?” she teased.

  He shook his head. “One of them is for me.”

  “But you’ve already got a drink?”

  Gareth chuckled. “Alastor took mine.”

  They looked over at the Irish vampire, who having heard them, winked and held up the glass of whiskey. Morgana laughed. Gareth took the two glasses off the bar and handed one to Morgana.

  “Can you get drunk?” They were walking away from the bar, now out of human earshot.

  “Yes, I’m part human, you know. I can get a bit intoxicated.” Morgana took a sip.

  “You know, I don’t remember ever getting drunk. With all the alcohol I consume, you’d think I would.”

  “Why do you drink at all? Vampires can’t really get drunk.”

  Gareth smiled.

  “Old habit, I guess.” He shrugged. “I like the taste. I mean it gives me something to do when I’m not drinking blood. You know, reminds me of when I was human.” He took a sip of his champagne. “I noticed Oscar does the same thing.”

  She nodded. “I guess you’re right.”

  “You know Oscar isn’t going to win,” he said, pointing his glass toward the party guests. “The locals will still vote in Mayor Coleman. They’ve done so for years.”

  “We know, but Father enjoys his moments to be human as well, if only for a time. It’s just a role we have to play, anyway.” She turned to face the party as well.

  “So every mission you go on, you have to go undercover?”

  “For this one we did. A lot of the time, you can get away with hiding in the shadows, watching and observing.”

  “Do you remember every mission?”

  She shook her head. “Not in detail. There are too many to recall. After a while, the vampires I kill, or don’t, all blur together in my mind. Vivienne and Oscar say it’s the same for them.”

  “And no one has ever come back for revenge?”

  Morgana turned her head to the side in thought. “I don’t think so.”

  Alastor and Ava re-joined them.

  “Phyllis is on the warpath,” Ava scowled. “She tried to have me kicked out for asking Oscar a question about the campaign. Luckily, Oscar said we were guests, not media.”

  Morgana chuckled. “I warned you.”

  “She didn’t even believe me when I said I had no recording equipment on me. Look at this clutch, it barely fits my phone.” Ava pouted.

  Alastor put his arm around her shoulders, trying to hide his amusement at her frustration.

  “Ah, but you can still take photos on your phone, can’t you?” Morgana asked, fueling the show for Alastor.

  Ava lifted her chin. “A reporter must always be prepared.”

  Gareth was trying to hide his laughter beneath his hand when Vivienne walked up to them.

  “Morgana, dear, you need to mingle with some of the guests.” She leaned forward, murmuring to her daughter. “Order from Phyllis. For some reason, she’s in a foul mood.” She nodded toward Ava, resulting in them all laughing again.

  Morgana turned to Gareth, touching his arm, “I’ll be back in a bit, then I’m all yours.”

  “Is that a promise?”

  Morgana smiled seductively, leaning into his ear so only he could hear, “Anything is possible.” She turned on her heel and walked away, a wide grin on her face.

  ***

  Morgana was talking to some of her father’s potential sponsors when she saw Randalf striding toward him. She hated to admit it, but he did look dashing in his black tuxedo.

  “Excuse me,” she told them, turning toward him.

  “Hello, Morgana, as usual, you look beautiful tonight,” Randalf greeted her, grasping her hand and kissing the back of it.

  “Randalf,” Morgana responded politely.

  “You’re here with the Daywalker?”

  “Gareth? Yes, I am.” She glanced toward Gareth, Alastor, and Ava, who were chatting amongst themselves.

  “Well, just be careful.”

  Morgana groaned. “Spare me the big brother routine. I’ve already got two of those, remember?”

  “Speaking of older
siblings, there’s something I need to tell you about your sister.”

  “Whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it right now, Randalf. I’m enjoying myself too much tonight for it to be ruined by her.” She tipped her champagne glass, draining the pale gold liquid. “I seem to be out, I’m getting another.” She waved the empty glass and moved to turn away from him. Randalf grasped her elbow and stilled her.

  “Morgana, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring her up. I know it’s hard for you, but—”

  “Mr. Gettybourgh.” Phyllis waddled up to them, her face contorted into some sort of demonic smile. “I’m glad you could make it.”

  Randalf dropped Morgana’s elbow, plastering a fake smile on his face. Morgana knew them all.

  “Phyllis, how radiant you look tonight.” He picked up Phyllis’ hand, kissing it.

  Phyllis giggled.

  Morgana wrinkled her nose. “If you’ll excuse me.” Morgana walked away from the scene before she lost her dinner.

  “May I have a dance, Phyllis?” She heard Randalf request.

  Phyllis giggled in response.

  Morgana shook her head, walking over to the small bar, tapping her fingers on the marble top, impatient for the bartender to serve her. She thought about what Randalf was trying to tell her. Why would he bring up her sister now? She hadn’t thought of her sister in years, nor did she want to.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Gareth finished his champagne and thought things were going well between him and Morgana tonight. But his smile faded, and he stiffened when Randalf appeared in front of him.

  “Randalf,” he greeted politely.

  “Excuse me, I was wondering if I could have a word alone with Gareth?”

  “Of course, you can, Randalf.” Vivienne cocked her head, a sort of warning for Randalf to be on his best behavior before she walked off.

  “You and I need to have a little chat, but I think a more private setting would be appropriate.”

  “Sure.” Gareth had a funny feeling about following him, but even Randalf wouldn’t be stupid enough to try anything in public? Especially with so many witnesses.