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  Morgana heard Gareth call a greeting out to Alastor. She moved back down the tree branch to regain her view of the bay window. She watched Gareth pouring himself a scotch. She always found it odd when vampires drank alcohol. It barely affected them, so why do it? Even her father kept a liquor cabinet at home.

  “Fancy a drink, Alastor?” Gareth held up the scotch decanter.

  “Don’t mind if I do.”

  “Is Ava coming over tonight?” Gareth poured another drink.

  “Aye. I’m making her dinner.”

  “I thought you loved her? Why would you want to kill her?” Gareth smiled.

  “Ha, very funny.” Alastor punched Gareth in the arm. “It’s about time I stepped up. She’s been cooking for me for ages.”

  “Yes, but do you even know how to cook? Do we even have food? Our fridge is just stocked with blood bags.”

  “Speaking of blood, we’ll need to organize another raid in the next week. Remember, we are starting to run low.”

  “There should be enough to last us for a while yet.”

  Alastor shook his head.

  “Geez, how much did you drink?”

  “Got to keep me strength up to satisfy me lady.” Alastor smirked.

  Morgana found this conversation interesting. If the Daywalkers were attacking the hikers and hunters in the forest, why would they need to run blood bank raids? She made a mental note to include those details in her report. She kept listening.

  “What are you cooking tonight, then?” Gareth asked.

  “I’m cooking Ava’s favorite pasta dish. Seems easy enough.” Alastor took a sip of scotch.

  “Does it have garlic in it?” sniggered Gareth.

  “I left that out. Didn’t fancy Ava freaking out because she thinks I’ll die from it. She still doesn’t believe me when I say it doesn’t affect us.”

  “Yes, humans are funny with their superstitions, aren’t they?” Gareth shook his head.

  “Will ye be joining us?”

  “I haven’t had human food in ages, and the first meal you want me to try will be something you cooked? I think I’ll pass. Gonna get some real vampire food into me.”

  “Suit yourself.” Alastor shrugged. “Offer is open if ye change your mind.”

  ***

  Morgana only had to wait a couple more hours before Ava arrived. She had mostly watched Gareth in the living room while Alastor busied himself in the kitchen.

  They continued joking about the garlic. It was better for human-turned vampires to believe the information given to them by The Council. They wanted to protect themselves, ensuring they could continue to govern the vampire masses.

  Gareth had spent most of his time in the living room. He’d read a book, poured himself more drinks—nothing to write home about. But Morgana found she liked watching Gareth. Though it was not new for her to spy on her suspected targets, she’d never actually enjoyed it so much before. Most of the time, it was just the job, something she had to do.

  Ava’s black sedan pulled into the driveway. She parked in front of the house and let herself inside, calling out a greeting to Gareth, then heading into the kitchen to see Alastor. Morgana continued watching Gareth. He was, after all, her primary suspect. She liked the way he moved—he had a casual swagger in his walk and a calming stillness in his reading stance.

  Every now and then he would glance out the bay window toward the tree where she was hiding. She knew she was well hidden, but she always held her breath when he looked outside. She wasn’t quite sure if it was the possibility of attack or his piercing blue eyes locked onto hers despite her hidden position. Morgana found herself hoping it wasn’t Gareth causing the attacks in the forest. She didn’t want to kill him. It seemed like such a waste.

  Ava and Alastor moved from the kitchen to the dining room. They called out to Gareth, who declined the dinner offer again. A few minutes later, he stood and left the room. He returned quickly with a blood bag in hand. Taking a sip, he glanced again in her direction, then sat back down.

  Eventually, he stood and called out ‘goodnight’ to Alastor and Ava, then headed for the stairs. He entered the bedroom Morgana had noted earlier as offering a perfect view. She cracked a sly smile. She might get to watch him prepare for bed. It was her job, after all.

  Her stomach rumbled. She cringed. She needed food. She hadn’t eaten anything since the slim slice of toast. If Gareth were going out to feed, he would have done so by now. He wouldn’t have fed from a blood bag unless he knew he was being watched and didn’t want to risk going out. But Morgana didn’t think he would go out tonight. The human in her needed food. She would come back tomorrow night to continue spying on Gareth.

  Morgana slid around the back of the tree trunk and leaped about a hundred yards away to the west of the window. If Gareth were watching, he wouldn’t see her leaving.

  ***

  Gareth stood at his bedroom window looking out toward where he had sensed the strange presence. He had hesitated before entering the house earlier. Sensing the unusual energy, he had debated whether to hunt the source or not. It was human but not overwhelmingly so like most. Possibly a young child, he wondered? Maybe even another vampire with an injured human in tow. It was barely twilight, though. There still could have been human neighbors out and about. He wouldn’t have been able to leave witnesses. And he didn’t relish the thought of killing innocents to cover his trail. Whatever the case, whoever it was had gone.

  Gareth was relieved. He had worked too hard to become the vampire he was, to have it all unravel in one night. No, it wouldn’t have been a good time to hunt. The scent of wolfsbane in the air had played a large part in his decision as well. It would likely have done no good to attack whoever was out there, which could have been quite fatal. Alastor once told him wolfsbane was used to weaken vampires. Gareth had never really encountered an opportunity to be affected by the plant, and tonight wasn’t the night to test a theory.

  There was a knock on his door.

  “Come in.” He turned away from the window. The smell of Ava’s scent—artificial strawberries—wafted in. Gareth wrinkled his nose.

  “I hope I’m not disturbing you?” she said.

  Gareth never had females in his room, so it was out of the ordinary for her to be in here but Ava having something to say, not so much. “Not at all. What can I do for you?”

  She hesitated as if unsure how to express what she’d come to say. “Well, I’ve thought of a way for you to spy on the Van Wilden family.”

  “How so?”

  “Volunteer at Mr. Van Wilden’s campaign office.”

  “What?” Gareth’s eyebrows raised.

  “You said it yourself, you want to find out more about them. What better way than to watch two of them interacting with humans.”

  “Ye know, Ava’s right.” Alastor walked in, plopping himself on the bed, earning a scowl from Gareth. “She might be onto something.”

  “Of course, I’m right.” She seemed more confident now that Alastor had backed her up. It wasn’t her fault. Gareth tended to treat women a little differently. He’d been polite and friendly enough toward her, but he was always guarded and a bit defensive.

  “Besides,” Ava continued, “It will give you something to do other than mope around at home.”

  Gareth grimaced. “I don’t just mope around, do I?”

  “Aye, ye do, mate,” said Alastor.

  Ava bit her lip. “Look, it was just a thought. If you decide to give it a shot, the office opens at nine. You need to speak to Phyllis, she’s the campaign manager.”

  Gareth looked back and forth between them. Alastor seemed amused. He suspected they’d conspired the whole thing together.

  Gareth shook his head in defeat. “Fine, I’ll go down there tomorrow morning.”

  Chapter Seven

  Morgana awoke on Monday morning with a yawn and stretch to release the tension in her stiff limbs. She’s in remarkable shape, and she healed at an accelerated rate, but she�
�d spent a bit too long planking in the tree watching the Daywalker read. She wouldn’t have as much time to spy on Gareth and Alastor today. She needed to fulfill her role as the dutiful daughter working as an intern on her father’s campaign. She sighed. In keeping with the whole ‘young, recently graduated from high school’ image she needed to portray, she dressed in a simple blouse and A-line skirt with flat shoes. She took a final look in the mirror. Ugh, she looked so young. This role had its ups and downs.

  Morgana arrived at the campaign office with her father. The room was all abuzz. The campaign rally over the weekend had gained Oscar two percent in the polls. They could hear the excited chatter before opening the glass, paneled door. Phyllis, the campaign manager, waddled over as quickly as she could.

  Phyllis may have been considered attractive by some on human terms, but she appeared toadlike to Morgana—a short and dumpy woman with a staunch personality—which made her a great campaign manager. She controlled every detail in the office with an iron fist. Phyllis adored Oscar. The only time Morgana ever saw a smile on the woman’s face was when Oscar was around, her dull, hazel eyes lighting up. Morgana had the suspicion Phyllis was infatuated with Oscar. She even suspected Phyllis had dyed her hair blonde because of Vivienne. The thought of Phyllis trying to win over Oscar made Morgana chuckle. Nothing was ever going to come between Oscar and Vivienne, especially not Phyllis. Oscar and Vivienne had a vampire marriage. Only death could break bonds of a love running so deep.

  But Morgana was also sure Phyllis wouldn’t give up. The woman seemed determined to win Oscar’s affection. Morgana suspected this was the reason why Phyllis hated her. Morgana was the thorn in Phyllis’ side when it came to wooing Oscar. Phyllis had been none too happy when Oscar insisted Morgana be made an intern on the campaign. But who could argue with the candidate? It was his campaign, after all.

  “Oh, Oscar,” said Phyllis, out of breath—either from the brisk walk or from seeing Oscar. She gave Morgana one of her most toadlike dirty looks. Morgana smiled back, warmly.

  “The polls have gone up, sir. Your popularity is growing!”

  “That’s wonderful, Phyllis.” Oscar beamed.

  Phyllis blushed with blotches of deep fuchsia dotted over her skin. Fuchsia was not her color.

  “We’ve still got a long way to go before I become mayor, though. What’s on the agenda today?”

  “Well, we will need to get more sponsors on board. I suggest a fundraising party. Let the potential sponsors get to know you on a more personal level. Maybe at your home?” She sounded hopeful.

  Oscar grimaced. He shot a discreet glance at Morgana. Oscar didn’t like to invite strangers to their home. It could threaten the safehold they had established against the vampires they had come to ensnare or eliminate.

  Morgana chimed in, “How about the local function room at The Majestic Hotel? We’ll be able to invite more supporters than we could ever host at our home.” Morgana relished the disappointment on Phyllis’ face. No doubt she wanted to scope the layout of the home where she fantasized about playing house with Oscar.

  “That’s an excellent idea, dear,” Oscar praised, giving Morgana an appreciative nod.

  Phyllis recovered quickly—anything to please Oscar. “Wonderful, sir. I’ll make the arrangements.”

  "Oh… and call me Oscar from now on. None of this ‘sir’ business.” Oscar flashed a charming smile at Phyllis.

  Morgana could hear Phyllis’ heart rate rapidly increase. The thought of her blood rushing through her veins made Morgana’s mouth water just a little. She saw the muscle twitch in Oscar’s jaw. He’d likely had the same thought. Oscar had his blood cravings under control even more so than Morgana—age will do that for you—but it would have been impossible to miss the rush of blood flow occurring right in front of him.

  “Mustn’t get her too excited, Father,” Morgana hissed under her breath. Oscar smiled.

  “Come with me, Phyllis.” Oscar placed his hand on Phyllis’ back, steering her toward his office. “We’ll discuss the rest of today’s agenda at my desk.” Phyllis nearly fainted at Oscar’s touch.

  Morgana proceeded to her desk. No doubt there would be a stack of flyers waiting for her to fold. Indeed, her morning was spent folding campaign pamphlets and placing them into envelopes. She then had to address them. Gareth and Alastor’s address came up. Morgana groaned. She could have used the resources at the campaign office to find out where they lived yesterday. She shrugged. It was more fun to trail after them. She had gotten more information by trailing Ava and Alastor than if she had just watched the house anyway.

  Morgana stiffened. She felt his presence before she saw him. Looking up from her desk, he stood before her—the last person she’d hoped to see for a very long time—Randalf.

  “Hello, Morgana.”

  “Randalf.” She nodded.

  “I thought you would be pleased to see me. Why haven’t you been returning any of my calls or messages?”

  Morgana sighed. “I didn’t have anything to report. I have been very busy, though. You know, doing my job.”

  “You should know I’m here on official business doing my job as your supervisor.” He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing.

  Morgana gulped. She still needed to get used to treating him like her boss, rather than a friend.

  He quickly stood back, straightening his tie.

  They had both heard Phyllis’ heavy footsteps approaching.

  “Tell me, young lady,” Randalf began with a bit of an exaggerated bellow, intending for human ears to hear. “Can you tell me where I can find Phyllis, the campaign manager?”

  “Well, that would be me,” said Phyllis, flustered again as she approached them.

  “Randalf Gettybourgh, we spoke on the phone about sponsoring Oscar Van Wilden’s mayoral campaign.” He held out his hand to shake hers.

  “Oh, yes, indeed.” Phyllis held out her hand to shake his. In one fluid movement, Randalf flipped Phyllis’ hand and placed a kiss on the back. “Your voice didn’t reveal you were such an exquisite creature.”

  Phyllis blushed, fuchsia flooded quickly back into her pasty, toadlike cheeks. Randalf’s eyes widened slightly. He stared lustfully at Phyllis’ overactive carotid artery.

  Morgana knew exactly what he was thinking.

  Phyllis noticed the look in Randalf’s eyes and began fanning herself.

  Morgana rolled her eyes.

  Of course, Phyllis would fall for Randalf’s superficial charms as he gazed hungrily at a potential meal rather than an affection-starved interloper.

  “Please come this way,” Phyllis beckoned. “We’ll speak in my office for privacy.” Phyllis eyed Randalf up and down, looking hungry herself.

  Sure, Randalf was good looking, even Morgana had to admit. She liked her men tall, and Randalf had been no exception. Morgana had watched as his mop of amber curls brushed gently against his chiseled jaw when he laughed, wooing many a human woman, which, in fact, is why things had not ended well between her and Randalf. Among other things, rather than be made a fool for centuries to come, she had felt forced to break off the engagement all those many years ago. She was relieved to see their interactions with each other could still be friendly.

  “Lead the way, madam.” Randalf bowed slightly, gesturing widely with his left arm.

  You had to give it to Randalf, he was quite the charmer. Morgana could hear Phyllis’ heart skip a few beats as she scuttled away.

  Morgana was looking down when she heard Phyllis’ office door open. Phyllis proceeded to show Randalf out, her heart still beating rapidly. Randalf had quickly won her over with his charm, which Morgana found especially off-putting due to Phyllis’ endless swooning over her father. Fickle toad.

  “I’ll return later with my sponsor’s check,” Randalf said as he walked by, giving Morgana a polite nod.

  “Why how lovely.” Phyllis pressed a hand to her chest.

  The campaign office door opened, and another vampire walked in—Gareth
.

  Now it was Morgana’s turn for her heart to leap out of her chest. What was he doing here?

  He walked over to Ernie, the other office intern. “Excuse me, do you know where I can find Phyllis, the campaign manager?”

  “Oh, yeah, she’s over there.” Ernie pointed toward them.

  “Hi,” Gareth greeted them. His eyebrow arched when he saw Randalf, and he quickly shifted his attention to Morgana. “I’m looking for Phyllis.”

  Phyllis stepped forward and touched her hair. “Yes, I’m her.”

  “I’m Gareth Lloyd.” He put his hand out to shake hers. “I’d like to volunteer for the campaign.”

  Oscar walked out of his office. “Phyllis, I thought you were sending in a new sponsor to meet me?”

  “Oh, yes, of course, I was. Here he is now.” Phyllis waved a hand over to Randalf. “Oscar Van Wilden, meet Randalf Gettybourgh.”

  Oscar shook Randalf’s hand as if they hadn’t known each other for several millenniums, then he turned to Gareth, “And who’s this young man?”

  “Gareth Lloyd, sir, I came to volunteer for your campaign.”

  Oscar’s smile was wide. “Wonderful, always happy to have concerned citizens join our ranks. You should speak with my campaign manager, Phyllis. She’ll get you all set up.”

  “Yes, I was just about to have a sit-down with him.” Phyllis seemed flustered.

  “Good, I hope to see you around the office, Gareth.” Oscar gave him a shoulder squeeze. “Randalf, if you wouldn’t mind stepping into my office.” He held his door open for Randalf whose face remained impassive, but his hazel eyes twinkled. Oscar always loved putting on a show for the humans.