restaurant accompanied by a blue flash of light. Victory hadn’t heard such ominous bells since walking into a bar populated by vampire-phobic werewolves a few decades ago in Fort Caroline, the capital of the southern Roman Colonies.
This time, hostility filled just a few of the stares. Her own hackles were up, and she wished for the days when the wild world remained a good enough excuse to wear her sword everywhere. With the possible exception of the two werepanthers in a booth toward the back—she thought she recognized them from the incident a few years ago—she was many times stronger and decades more experienced than anyone in the room. Having a solid blade in her hand would have reassured her. But in this situation, carrying a weapon would get her barred from the restaurant sooner than her blood.
While Victory surveyed the room, Lena handled the pleasantries. The first obstacle, getting into the restaurant at all, was crossed when the dean greeted the young waiter by name and asked how his finals had gone. Confronted with such familiar authority, he’d had no choice but to lead the two women toward a booth in the back. It did not escape Victory’s notice that he placed them right next to the werepanthers, and that all of the surrounding booths and tables sat empty. The rest of the diners were seated in the front of the restaurant. They both acknowledged the fact in silence. Victory was irked. Lena seemed more thoughtful.
The waiter took their coffee orders—cream and sugar for Lena, black for Victory—and handed them menus. Instead of heading into the kitchen, however, he disappeared into a side office after promising to come back for their orders.
“Off to warn Fabbri already,” Victory said. “And I was actually hoping to enjoy dessert before things went to hell.” Just because her body couldn’t gain any nutrients from regular food didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy the sweet stuff on occasion.
Lena stared past Victory, her lips pursed. “Don’t be too offended, but I don’t think he recognized you. It was probably the blue light when you walked in.” She closed her eyes. “And speak of the devil. Looks like we don’t even get our coffee tonight.”
Victory twisted in her seat in time to see Emily Fabbri marching across the floor between empty tables. Their fellow councilwoman stopped at their booth, her eyes shooting daggers. “Can I help you, ladies?” she spat.
No, not daggers. Long spears. With vicious barbed ends, and possibly poison. Victory made a show of surveying her menu. After shutting it, she smiled back up at Fabbri, intentionally showing fang. The human woman hid a flinch, but Victory didn’t miss the slight tension of her body. “Yes, thank you. I’ll have a slice of your carrot cake. Cream cheese icing, I hope?”
Fabbri placed both hands flat on the table and drew forward, invading Victory’s personal space in an attempt to recover ground. Victory’s estimate of the human lowered another few notches. She never saw signs of intelligence in antagonizing a vampire. Fabbri’s attempt at intimidation fell flat as her gaze slid across Victory’s left cheek, unable or unwilling to meet her eyes.
“Otherwise, I’ll take one of your apple turnovers,” Victory said, ignoring Fabbri’s hostility.
“Look, you beast,” Fabbri said. At that derogatory comment, the werepanthers at the next booth both turned to look. “It’s obvious where your ‘daughter’ gets her stupidity from since apparently neither of you could read the sign on the door.”
It took just a gentle push with one fingertip against Fabbri’s shoulder to move her out of Victory’s personal space. “I’m going to ignore that insult to my daughter and ask you to never get that close to me again. Your breath leaves much to be desired to those with heightened senses of smell.” Lena kicked her foot under the table, warning her to play nice. “By the way,” Victory said. “You are aware the two young
This time, hostility filled just a few of the stares. Her own hackles were up, and she wished for the days when the wild world remained a good enough excuse to wear her sword everywhere. With the possible exception of the two werepanthers in a booth toward the back—she thought she recognized them from the incident a few years ago—she was many times stronger and decades more experienced than anyone in the room. Having a solid blade in her hand would have reassured her. But in this situation, carrying a weapon would get her barred from the restaurant sooner than her blood.
While Victory surveyed the room, Lena handled the pleasantries. The first obstacle, getting into the restaurant at all, was crossed when the dean greeted the young waiter by name and asked how his finals had gone. Confronted with such familiar authority, he’d had no choice but to lead the two women toward a booth in the back. It did not escape Victory’s notice that he placed them right next to the werepanthers, and that all of the surrounding booths and tables sat empty. The rest of the diners were seated in the front of the restaurant. They both acknowledged the fact in silence. Victory was irked. Lena seemed more thoughtful.
The waiter took their coffee orders—cream and sugar for Lena, black for Victory—and handed them menus. Instead of heading into the kitchen, however, he disappeared into a side office after promising to come back for their orders.
“Off to warn Fabbri already,” Victory said. “And I was actually hoping to enjoy dessert before things went to hell.” Just because her body couldn’t gain any nutrients from regular food didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy the sweet stuff on occasion.
Lena stared past Victory, her lips pursed. “Don’t be too offended, but I don’t think he recognized you. It was probably the blue light when you walked in.” She closed her eyes. “And speak of the devil. Looks like we don’t even get our coffee tonight.”
Victory twisted in her seat in time to see Emily Fabbri marching across the floor between empty tables. Their fellow councilwoman stopped at their booth, her eyes shooting daggers. “Can I help you, ladies?” she spat.
No, not daggers. Long spears. With vicious barbed ends, and possibly poison. Victory made a show of surveying her menu. After shutting it, she smiled back up at Fabbri, intentionally showing fang. The human woman hid a flinch, but Victory didn’t miss the slight tension of her body. “Yes, thank you. I’ll have a slice of your carrot cake. Cream cheese icing, I hope?”
Fabbri placed both hands flat on the table and drew forward, invading Victory’s personal space in an attempt to recover ground. Victory’s estimate of the human lowered another few notches. She never saw signs of intelligence in antagonizing a vampire. Fabbri’s attempt at intimidation fell flat as her gaze slid across Victory’s left cheek, unable or unwilling to meet her eyes.
“Otherwise, I’ll take one of your apple turnovers,” Victory said, ignoring Fabbri’s hostility.
“Look, you beast,” Fabbri said. At that derogatory comment, the werepanthers at the next booth both turned to look. “It’s obvious where your ‘daughter’ gets her stupidity from since apparently neither of you could read the sign on the door.”
It took just a gentle push with one fingertip against Fabbri’s shoulder to move her out of Victory’s personal space. “I’m going to ignore that insult to my daughter and ask you to never get that close to me again. Your breath leaves much to be desired to those with heightened senses of smell.” Lena kicked her foot under the table, warning her to play nice. “By the way,” Victory said. “You are aware the two young
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