All Just Glass - Amelia Atwater-Rhodes [27]
“What I was about to say was my shift is up,” he said. “I would ask if you’d like to get a cup of coffee, but I seem to have already provided that.” When she chuckled, he added, “My name’s Jerome.”
“Anna,” she replied. “Was that one of your friends looking for a place to stay?”
“More like a friend of a vague acquaintance, who only shows up when he needs a favor,” Jerome answered.
“Oh?” She wasn’t expecting him to tell the truth to the human he thought she was, but most people included nuggets of reality in their lies. She could sift for those.
Before Jerome could answer, someone else—a girl this time, with no hint of a bloodbond that Adia could make out—tapped him on the shoulder.
Jerome sighed. “I think it’s going to be one of those mornings,” he said as he glanced up at the girl trying to get his attention and gave her a halfhearted glare. Jerome jotted down a couple of words on a napkin—an address, Adia was almost certain—and passed it off. Adia watched out of the corner of her eye as the human read the address, presumably memorized it, and tucked the napkin into a not-quite-empty coffee cup before she tossed them both into the trash. The liquid would destroy the writing, which kept people like Adia from stealing the napkin to get the address.
“You’re popular,” Adia observed.
“I’m more like an information center,” he answered with a self-deprecating chuckle.
Adia glanced at the clock behind the counter and sighed dramatically. “I hate to caffeinate and run, but you seem pretty busy, and I should probably get home sometime.”
Walking away was a gamble. She was betting on the reaction the person he was pretending to be would have to the person she was pretending to be. She couldn’t take him on in a place this public, and she couldn’t wander into the back room with him and become dinner. That meant she needed to leave but give him a reason to keep in touch after she left so she didn’t lose her only contact.
“Anna.” He said her name as she started to turn away.
She felt a brief moment of triumph, and then her cell phone rang. A wave of dread passed through her before she even saw Zachary’s number on the screen.
“Sorry,” she said to Jerome before she answered the phone. “Hey, Bill.” To Jerome, she added, “My brother,” just loudly enough that Zachary would hear it. He would know she was with someone with sensitive enough hearing to eavesdrop on anything he said on the phone. Someone who didn’t know who or what she was.
Zachary’s voice was light and perfectly cheerful as he said, “Good, I caught you. I never know what kind of hours you keep.” He chuckled. “Mom wanted me to ask if you think you’re going to be able to make it for Thanksgiving this year. It looks like Liz is planning to come home, and it would be great to have the whole family.”
It was a struggle to keep herself composed in front of Jerome. Were his vampiric senses enough for him to hear the twist in her guts or feel the cold pit that developed in her stomach? Zachary was telling her that Sarah was there … or was possibly on her way.
“I’m not sure I can get off work in time to make it,” she said. She was nearly an hour away from home, and she didn’t have a vampire’s ability to instantly transport from place to place. Even if she drove as fast as she very well knew her car could handle, it was likely to be over before she got home. “How definite is Liz?”
“She’s going to hang out a little while, but I don’t know yet if she’ll actually be at dinner,” he answered.
Sarah had to be near enough that Zachary could sense her, but she hadn’t declared her intention. She could just be lurking, observing, looking at her once family or trying to see what kind of guard they had on Heather. She could be intending to turn herself over, and hadn’t yet found the courage, or she could have come to try to fight.
“I want to be there,” Adia said. “I’ll do my best.”
“I’ll let her know,” Zachary answered. “Take care of yourself. Get some sleep.”
“You too,” she answered.
They were