pay, I stood at the server station behind the dining room, pulling the night’s paper menus off the fancy faux-leather placards and tossing them in the recycling bin. Tomorrow night, new menus would be slapped onto the placards as part of the opening sidework. Tara, who had exceeded expectations and actually come to work tonight, was folding napkins on the prep table next to me.
My phone buzzed in my apron. Tara heard it and glanced at my vibrating apron pocket, smirking knowingly. We’re not supposed to keep our cell phones on our person while on the clock, and usually it’s a rule I don’t have a problem with. Technology is neat. I am a fan. But I’ve lived decades without a phone in my pocket and I can definitely go hours without itching to check it. Tonight, however, in light of Ray’s murder and the possibility that Neha was in danger, and the knowledge that someone out there had vials of the Cure in their possession, I felt uneasy being stuck at work without having a way for people to contact me.
I excused myself to the employee locker room. My heart sped up when I saw Cazimir’s name as the incoming call. Cazimir was the sort of vampire who disliked modern gadgets, accepting their existence as a distasteful necessity of modern life. He had a smart phone but he didn’t use it unless it was absolutely necessary.
I hit answer and said, “Hello?”
“You must come to the Factory immediately,” Cazimir said, his voice hard. My blood immediately went cold.
“What? Why?” I asked.
“It’s an emergency,” he said, which did not answer my question.
“I’m at work,” I said, knowing this would not matter to Cazimir, who found the concept of work abhorrent. When you’ve been alive for over five hundred years and have had money invested and saved for that long, the idea of getting a job is as foreign as the idea of a vampire sunbathing.
“Now,” he hissed. The line went dead.
My stomach did a little tap dance and a few somersaults while I leaned against the metal storage rack full of rags, aprons, and boxes of shoe polish. I had no idea what might possibly constitute an emergency at Caz’s Factory, but it was definitely the sort of thing I did not want to be involved in. That said, Cazimir wouldn’t call me unless it was something I needed to see.
I thought about the Cure being out on the streets and wondered if someone else had been stuck with a needle and turned mortal. The thought sent the cup of soup I’d sucked down between tables sliding back up my throat, and I had to swallow it down.
Back at the server station, Tara frowned when she saw me. “Something wrong?”
“A friend is … in trouble,” I said, wishing I’d thought of a decent lie before coming out of the employee locker room. Clearly I looked spooked.
“That’s too bad,” Tara said.
You have no idea. “Yeah,” is all I said out loud. I checked on my last table, saw they had—thankfully—put a credit card out, and I went to work getting my butt out of there as fast as humanly possible.
A IDAN , faithful blue-haired mortal companion boy, met me at the Factory door. He was wearing black jeans, a black sweatshirt, and thick-framed glasses. He took me in with a slightly suspicious glint in his eye, then let me inside.
“What’s going on?” I asked as Aidan closed the door behind me.
Aidan lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Not really sure. Just got home. All I know is people are freaking out. Before I could ask why, I was sent to get the door. The security guys are busy with crowd control.”
“Strange,” I said, though I doubted Aidan being shrugged off and asked to complete some menial task was unusual. Aidan grunted in reply and led me up the wooden staircase to the second floor. He used a key card to open the main entrance and then held the door for me. The hallway he’d let me into was packed with people. Mostly human, as far as I could tell, some clearly employees who’d abandoned their posts and others
My phone buzzed in my apron. Tara heard it and glanced at my vibrating apron pocket, smirking knowingly. We’re not supposed to keep our cell phones on our person while on the clock, and usually it’s a rule I don’t have a problem with. Technology is neat. I am a fan. But I’ve lived decades without a phone in my pocket and I can definitely go hours without itching to check it. Tonight, however, in light of Ray’s murder and the possibility that Neha was in danger, and the knowledge that someone out there had vials of the Cure in their possession, I felt uneasy being stuck at work without having a way for people to contact me.
I excused myself to the employee locker room. My heart sped up when I saw Cazimir’s name as the incoming call. Cazimir was the sort of vampire who disliked modern gadgets, accepting their existence as a distasteful necessity of modern life. He had a smart phone but he didn’t use it unless it was absolutely necessary.
I hit answer and said, “Hello?”
“You must come to the Factory immediately,” Cazimir said, his voice hard. My blood immediately went cold.
“What? Why?” I asked.
“It’s an emergency,” he said, which did not answer my question.
“I’m at work,” I said, knowing this would not matter to Cazimir, who found the concept of work abhorrent. When you’ve been alive for over five hundred years and have had money invested and saved for that long, the idea of getting a job is as foreign as the idea of a vampire sunbathing.
“Now,” he hissed. The line went dead.
My stomach did a little tap dance and a few somersaults while I leaned against the metal storage rack full of rags, aprons, and boxes of shoe polish. I had no idea what might possibly constitute an emergency at Caz’s Factory, but it was definitely the sort of thing I did not want to be involved in. That said, Cazimir wouldn’t call me unless it was something I needed to see.
I thought about the Cure being out on the streets and wondered if someone else had been stuck with a needle and turned mortal. The thought sent the cup of soup I’d sucked down between tables sliding back up my throat, and I had to swallow it down.
Back at the server station, Tara frowned when she saw me. “Something wrong?”
“A friend is … in trouble,” I said, wishing I’d thought of a decent lie before coming out of the employee locker room. Clearly I looked spooked.
“That’s too bad,” Tara said.
You have no idea. “Yeah,” is all I said out loud. I checked on my last table, saw they had—thankfully—put a credit card out, and I went to work getting my butt out of there as fast as humanly possible.
A IDAN , faithful blue-haired mortal companion boy, met me at the Factory door. He was wearing black jeans, a black sweatshirt, and thick-framed glasses. He took me in with a slightly suspicious glint in his eye, then let me inside.
“What’s going on?” I asked as Aidan closed the door behind me.
Aidan lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Not really sure. Just got home. All I know is people are freaking out. Before I could ask why, I was sent to get the door. The security guys are busy with crowd control.”
“Strange,” I said, though I doubted Aidan being shrugged off and asked to complete some menial task was unusual. Aidan grunted in reply and led me up the wooden staircase to the second floor. He used a key card to open the main entrance and then held the door for me. The hallway he’d let me into was packed with people. Mostly human, as far as I could tell, some clearly employees who’d abandoned their posts and others
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