Fated to My Forbidden Vampire novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: The Sister Counter

Pippa pitches a gentle unbinding in front of the diner's regulars and Clem throws her out; at three in the morning the regent sits at the counter and slides her a vial.

Pippa didn't leave, of course.

She never left until she'd said her piece.

"They're not going to hurt you," she said, tucking her feet under her. "You're the victim here. Do you understand?"

"I understand you hit my elbow."

"The room was crowded."

"You smiled first."

The red mouth stayed in place, but something behind it went flat.

I had seen that flat look once before, in a courtroom.

"The Court calls it a thrall bond," Pippa said. "He's got you under his thumb, Clem. You don't even know it's happening."

"He asked me not to give him orders."

"Of course he did. It's part of how it works."

"What are you, Pippa?"

"I'm the Court's social secretary." She said it proudly. "I've been Thaddeus Manigault's ward since I was sixteen."

I stared at her.

Twelve years she'd been telling me she was a legal assistant in an office downtown.

"Thursday, the Court will unbind him," she went on, smooth as cream. "Gently. You walk away free, and I'll get your record sealed."

I looked at the wax seal on her envelope.

"No," I said.

"You haven't even heard the terms."

"I heard enough, and I said no."

I picked up her shoes, her purse and her coat, and I walked them to the door.

She followed me, talking.

On the landing, in front of my neighbor and his dog, I put them all in her arms.

"Get out of my building," I said.

"After everything I did for you?" she said, loudly, for his benefit.

I closed the door on her.

I listened to her heels go down the steps.

By eight that night, I was behind the counter at Greaves' Diner, because rent was due and the oath didn't pay it.

Winnie Greaves ran the place.

She was forty-six, with a grey crop and a laugh you could hear from the street.

She had hired me the day I got out, with nothing but a paper bag and a bus ticket.

"Hand's bandaged," she said, flipping eggs. "Who do I need to shoot?"

"Nobody yet."

"Yet is a good word." She slid a plate of pancakes toward me. "Eat."

The Sunday crowd was thin: two cab drivers, a nurse in scrubs, an old man with a crossword.

At nine the bell over the door jingled, and my sister walked in.

She'd changed her clothes and fixed her lipstick.

She looked around the room, found an audience, and let her eyes fill with tears.

"Everyone," Pippa said, "I'm so sorry to disturb you."

The cab drivers turned.

"This is my little sister, Clem. She's been taken in by a very dangerous man, who has some kind of hold on her."

She pressed a hand to her chest.

"I only want her to come home."

I put down the coffee pot.

"Sit down, Pippa."

"She doesn't know what she's saying. She's been so confused since her trial."

The nurse looked at me with that look I knew, the one strangers get when they hear the word record.

I walked around the counter.

"Fourteen months," I said, to the room. "I did fourteen months in county for a necklace and two rings that this woman sold."

"She let me plead to it. She sent me one letter."

"Clem..."

The old man with the crossword lowered his pen.

Behind me, I heard a heavy iron sound.

Winnie had come out of the kitchen with her cast-iron skillet in her right hand, held low.

"Philippa Hurd," she said. "I know that name. It was on my girl's visitor sheet once."

"Once," I said.

"Out," said Winnie. "Right now, or I teach you what this does to a French manicure."

Pippa looked at the skillet.

She looked at the faces around the room.

Then she picked up her purse and her smile at the same time.

"You're making a mistake," she said to me quietly, at the door. "He isn't what you think."

"Neither are you," I said.

The bell jingled behind her.

Winnie set the skillet on the counter and put an arm around my shoulders.

"You're sleeping upstairs tonight," she said. "I've got a spare room and a bad back and nobody to boss."

I laughed, and then I cried a little into her apron, and she let me.

At three in the morning the diner was empty.

I was wiping the counter alone when the bell rang again.

A tall old man in an ivory suit came in out of the dark, leaning on a silver-topped cane.

I knew him before he took off his hat.

He sat on the stool in front of me.

"Miss Ravenel," said Thaddeus Manigault. "I'd like a cup of coffee and a slice of whatever pie you have left."

"Pecan," I said. My voice came out steady. "It's day-old."

"Perfect."

I cut him a piece.

He ate it slowly while I stood very still across the counter.

"You broke my guard's nose," he said, finishing. "I admire that."

"What do you want?"

"What your sister told you, I expect. A tidy end."

He reached into his waistcoat and drew out a small glass vial, no longer than my finger.

The liquid inside was clear as water.

He set it on the counter and slid it gently across to me.

"Pour this into his drink," he said. "Tonight, tomorrow, whenever you see him. In ten seconds, you will be free."

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