Know Me When the Sun Goes Down Read online

  “How’ve you been?” he said finally.

  “I’ve been better.” Not a lie... understatement of the year.

  “Yeah.”

  “Yep.” More silence, talk about super awkward. We’d once been so close. Cripes, I was his Sire for Pete’s sake, how were we reduced to this? But despite the familiar lilt of his words, they didn’t affect me the way they used to. I couldn’t imagine taking solace in his arms, my heart was immune to him. We were almost strangers now.

  Rob cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about...”

  “Thanks,” I cut him off, not wanting to hear him mention Bishop’s name for some reason. I couldn’t listen to his sympathy knowing he’d have gladly shoved Bishop into a wood chipper given half the chance. “I’m okay though.”

  “You don’t always have to be the strong one. No one expects you to...”

  “I’m fine,” I insisted, and he didn’t argue the point.

  “You need anything...”

  “Yes, I know. Thanks.”

  “I could be ’round there in half a tick.”

  “You could be around where?”

  “Your motel’s on Suffolk Place, aint’ it?”

  I peeked out the window half expecting to see him out on the street, but it was bare except for the usual foot traffic. “How do you even know where I am?”

  “You’re in my city, yeah?”

  He had me there. “I guess I am. I’ll be alright though. Look, I’m sorry I bothered your sister. Is she alright?”

  “Took a bit to settle her, but she’s right as rain now.”

  I thought back to the tears and the fear in her eyes, knowing I was lower than dirt for putting such a fragile girl through all of that. When had I become a bully? In the old days I would’ve put down a thug like me for terrorizing the witch community. Now it was merely a means to an end. “I’m really sorry...”

  “Don’t take on so. I know you must be pretty tore up.” The sympathy and compassion in his voice fanned a tiny ember of emotion inside me, reminding me how much he cared. How much we’d comforted each other. “Anja, I thought maybe we could... talk.”

  Son of a biscuit. My eyes closed in a realization that was almost painful to comprehend. There was sympathy in his voice, but there was also need. A desperate hunger I sensed through the phone. He wanted to offer comfort, but he also had that hope, that sharp need for something I couldn’t give him. Not now, not ever, even with Bishop gone. I felt empathy for him, but that was all.

  “No, I think I’m better off on my own for now, Rob. Thanks for the offer though.”

  There was another long silence, and I decided maybe it was time to put an end to that hope for his own good.

  “Rob...”

  “Yeah?”

  “You should know something.”

  “What’s that?”

  In for a penny, in for a pound. “Jakob compelled me not to love you. I thought you should know. I don’t want you sitting around hoping and waiting. Even with Bishop gone, I can’t...”

  “Why would he go and do a thing like that?”

  “It was to protect you, really.”

  Rob made a snort of disgust. “Yeah, Jakob’s always been so mindful of my health and wellbeing in the past.”

  “No, I mean it. When we restored him in Vadheim, we weren’t sure if it would reactivate the curse or not. And he compelled me not to love you, so you’d never suffer from the curse again.”

  “I’d take that suffering in a heartbeat if it meant you were mine again,” he said, his voice raw with emotion, and I felt bad for him, really I did. But I didn’t really feel for him, just the crummy hand he’d been dealt.

  “Rob...”

  His voice was tighter, with more of an edge when he spoke again. “Ain’t much use laying siege to a dead heart, is there?”

  “I just wanted you to know.”

  “Right. Well, I wanted to offer a bit of caution. Word is you’re looking for a way to bring your boy back. That sort of dark magic has a pretty hefty price tag to it.”

  All I heard in that concern was proof I was on the right track. “But it can be done?” I blurted, full of eager hope.

  “Don’t make no nevermind if it can or can’t. Some things shouldn’t be messed with. Even if you could bring him back, like as not he’d come back wrong.”

  “Some Bishop is better than no Bishop. Thanks for your concern, but I got this.” I just had to find a witch to help me pull it off.

  “Do what you want then, you always do. I wash my hands of the matter,” he muttered.

  “It’ll be okay.”

  “If you say so.” Rob let out an impossibly long breath, like he was expelling every last molecule of air from his body. “Goodbye, Anja,” he said finally.

  “Goodbye, Rob. I hope... I hope you find your way to everything you deserve.”

  “I already have,” he bit out, and then he was gone.

  “That could’ve gone better,” Bridget remarked. I’d forgotten she was still in the room listening. “Still better than the last time you broke up with him though, right?” Her eyes widened when my brows drew together in disapproval. “Too soon? You said you were over that.”

  “No, I am.” I honestly felt nothing about the incident between them on the boat, another one of Jakob’s gifts. “That wasn’t me breaking up with him though, we weren’t together.”

  “It was to him.”

  Since when was she Rob’s champion? “I set him free. Someday he’ll realize it was a kindness, me telling him there was no hope.”

  “Oh yeah, I’m sure he’ll thank you for stomping all over his heart.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be on my side? Making me feel better? What was I supposed to do? Cry on his shoulder and let him keep hoping he had a chance with me?”

  “Sometimes hope is all we have to get us through the next night.”

  Just when I thought Bridget was nothing more than breezy quips and Cake Boss, she hit me with something profound like that. “Yes, hope is important, but not false hope. He’ll be alright. Rob’s been through a lot in his lifetime.” I wondered if she had any idea how old Rob even was. Thanks to his gypsy blood, he...

  “Gypsy blood,” I murmured aloud.

  Her forehead crinkled in confusion. “Were we talking about blood?”

  I could’ve punched myself in the throat for being so stupid! “The gypsies! Of course, why didn’t I think of them before? They’re the ones who cursed Jakob’s line. They’re the ones who broke the curse. Maybe they can help me?”

  “Ah... Earth to Anja, didn’t they like carve out a piece of Jakob’s heart and he almost died?”

  “That’s irrelevant.”

  “I’d say it’s pretty fucking relevant. If he couldn’t survive something like that, what makes you think you could?”

  I didn’t want to hear it. It could be done, I felt it in my bones. Otherwise why would Leila or Rob have tried to shoo me away from attempting it?

  “Get us a car, Bridget. We’re taking a drive into the English countryside.”

  Chapter Five

  “You want to be bad cop or badder cop this time?” Bridget asked as we set off on the M20.

  “We’re going to try something different this time. We’re going to kill them with kindness.”

  “How’s that one go again? It’s a new one on me.”

  “We’re not getting anywhere using torture and intimidation. These people can’t be compelled, and do I really want them working with me only because I forced them to? Sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

  “Yeah, you don’t want someone with enough power to raise a zombie army holding a grudge against you.”

  “Good point.” I’d really been taking chances roughing up the witchy community. Hopefully I’d have a chance to make amends before I ended up cursed even more than I was now.

  “That would make a kickass movie though.”

  “Hmm?” I asked, only half listening.

  “Vampires vers
us Zombies? Talk about a popcorn flick, I would totally watch that.”

  “I’m not looking to raise zombies, just one vampire.”

  “Yeah, but don’t you think that would make an excellent flick? You could get that Momoa guy to play Bishop, that dude’s got muscles and a half. I could climb him like a tree and live on his branches for a week.”

  “What? He’s got ginormous muscles, I’ll give you that, but he’s not the type to play Bishop.” We argued over who would play us in a movie version of our lives for the rest of the drive, and for a little while, I forgot to feel miserable. It gave me hope. That maybe we could get past this and back to some semblance of a life. And like Bridget said, sometimes hope was the only thing to get us through the night. I focused on maintaining that hope as the gypsy encampment came into view.

  Not much had changed since the last time I’d been there. It looked more like a mobile home park than a gypsy encampment. There were several permanent structures that while technically mobile, had probably never been moved from the moss and other flora growing on them. But the majority of the dwellings were what I called trailers, designed to be towed by trucks, not mules. In addition to these trailers, there was an above ground swimming pool (currently filled with about 2 feet of murky water) and a communal shower/bathroom near the center of the complex.

  “This looks like my Aunt Edna’s trailer park,” Bridget muttered, unimpressed. “I thought we were going to a gypsy camp.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, but this is what a gypsy camp looks like outside of a Disney movie.”

  “Shit, I thought we were gonna get serenaded by mandolin music, have our fortunes told, and get pick-pocketed and stuff.” Her shoulders slumped, and I had to smile.

  “First of all, bonus points for knowing what a mandolin is. Second, I don’t recommend having your fortune told, you might not like what your future holds,” I added, remembering the cryptic advice I’d been given from Rob’s cousin Luca. “And third, I’d still keep an eye on your pockets.”

  “Nobody better get near my watch,” she growled. “This baby set me back forty bucks. I’ll cut a bitch before I let anyone get their hands on it.”

  “Relax, we’re all friends here. Good cop and gooder cop, remember?”

  “Gooder?” she snorted. “And you’re the book nerd.”

  I smiled at that, leading her to the pink trailer where Rob’s Aunt Lilias lived. Once again, I was struck by how quiet it was in the encampment. Apart from the random dog bark, there was no movement, no music, no TV sounds. Nothing to show the place was inhabited at all apart from the random twitch of curtains, to indicate we were being watched. But since it was pretty similar to the last time we’d approached, I didn’t think too much of it.

  Despite my claim of friendship with the band of gypsies, Lilias stepped out of her pink trailer looking none too welcoming, her lips pressed into a grim line. She was dressed in jeans and a blue chambray shirt, a patchwork vest adding a dazzle of bright color and beaded fringe to boot. There was an extra shot of gray mixed in with her ash brown hair, pulled back into a low ponytail.

  Her voice was deep and husky, the rasp of a long time smoker, her words short and to the point. “What’s your business here?”

  Frak. My reputation must’ve been catching up with me after all.

  “Hello, Lilias. It’s good to see you again,” I began, ignoring her tone and trying for a pleasant smile. “This is my friend Bridget.”

  She only crossed her arms over her chest and waited.

  “Ah... okay. We, well I, was sort of hoping you could help me with something.”

  Nothing.

  “Do you think that maybe we could go inside and talk about it?” I felt awfully exposed in the courtyard, knowing all eyes were upon us.

  For long seconds, she stared at me, her gaze darting to Bridget briefly, before she turned and walked back to the door. I figured that was a no, but she stopped in the open doorway and tilted her head to the inside. “You can come, your friend has to wait outside.”

  Bridget’s lips parted like she had something snarky to say about that, but I shot her a pleading look. Instead, she shrugged and walked off to sit on a discarded tractor tire in the middle of the courtyard.

  “Thanks, Lilias,” I said with a hasty smile, following her inside the trailer. There were strands of intricate beadwork in various stages of completion hanging everywhere, and I easily ducked them to take a seat when she gestured me to sit.

  Instead of sitting with me, she went to the tiny propane cooktop, setting a kettle on to boil. “I can’t do what you seek,” she said, opening cupboards until she found a box of tea that smelled of cardamom and cloves.

  “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask you yet.”

  “Word travels fast.”

  I wasn’t sure if she was expecting an apology for my treatment of the witches, or what. “Then you know how desperate I am to bring him back.”

  “Even if I wanted to help you, I told you I don’t mess with that dark shite,” she scowled.

  I only heard the meaning behind the refusal – she could if she wanted to. “But you do know how to do it,” I pressed. “Lilias, if you do this, you can have anything. Name your price.”

  She let out a short bark of laughter. “You have no idea what you’re saying. It would cost far more than money.”

  “No, I do. I really do,” I insisted, rising, grabbing a crafting knife from the table and holding it up to her, handle first. “You can take whatever you want. You need a piece of my heart? Take it.”

  Lilias only frowned, stepping away from the weapon, and I tried another tack. “There has to be something you want. Tell me what it is and I’ll get it for you. You want my first born? I can’t have children, but I’ll steal one for you. Please, I’ll do anything.” I was so close. For the first time, I could almost taste it. Lilias not only had the power, but the know how.

  “It’s not our path.” But she was thinking about it, I could tell by the way she wouldn’t meet my gaze.

  “Can’t you take a little fork in the road for a payout like this one? Think about it. You could buy this entire land, build some real facilities, enough for a permanent home.”

  “A gypsy is bound by no ties. We move with the wind and we take our homes with us.”

  “Fine, then travel in style. Couldn’t you use an upgrade? How about one of those fancy jobbies with solar panels and a hot tub in the back? The kind with slide out compartments and a flat panel TV that appears as if from nowhere? Hell, you can buy one for every member of your clan. Lilias, please. I’m begging you.”

  But the gypsy elder was already shaking her head. “Not for any price. I’m sorry.” And now she looked at me, and I saw the truth in her eyes. “I really am. But I’ll not risk my immortal soul for you or any other. There’s nothing you can say or do to change my mind. To me or any of mine.” Her chin came up, and I read the threat there loud and clear. Any hint of violence and she’d strike back at me with both barrels.

  My lips parted to plead again, to beg, to somehow change her mind, but all at once it hit me – Bishop was well and truly out of reach. And nothing I said or did would change that. Anyone with enough power had the sense to stay away from that kind of dark magic, and anyone dumb enough to try didn’t have the knowledge to pull it off. I had to accept it, Bishop was gone.

  “I’m sorry to have bothered you,” I said softly, heading for the door when she turned to make her cup of tea – only one, I wasn’t welcome there.

  I’d failed him, I’d lost Bishop.

  Bishop.

  My heart ached to hear his name echoing in my mind. Stumbling out into the encampment, I sank down onto a fallen log by the banked embers of a bonfire. The courtyard was still empty, save for Bridget who sat on the tire, hunched over her phone. My eyes watered, blurring my vision, and saw the camp as it’d been on my last visit. Bishop sitting in front of the bonfire, looking up and giving me a faint smile. I blinked and he was gone, and
I pressed my eyes shut trying to bring him back. He reappeared across the yard with two cups of mulled wine in his hands – only to fade before he reached me. Snippets of conversation floated in the air around me, the deep timbre of his voice, his laughter hitting me in the gut as I felt his loss again and again.

  Would it always be like this? Bishop and I had traveled to all four corners of the world in the year we’d spent wandering at a leisurely pace. Would I ever be able to escape the memory of his love? We’d never been to Antarctica.

  Hearing the crunching of grass as someone approached, I assumed it was Bridget. “How do you feel about penguins?” I murmured, still caught up in my train of thought, but it was a masculine voice that derailed it.

  “I think I can do it.”

  “Shénme?” I blinked, shaking myself out of it.

  He was tall and thin, a shock of bleached blonde standing out starkly against his jet black, artfully spiked hair. He wore enough guyliner that he’d meandered past edgy to seedy, and his fingernails (bitten to the quick) were painted a chipped black. Long sideburns reached almost his chin, which sported a stubby soul patch, and both ears were pierced. He wore simple gray jeans and a black t-shirt with a black hoodie, and incongruously, a maroon velvet smoking jacket on top.

  “I said, I think I can do it,” he repeated, right as Bridget wandered up.

  “No dice, huh?” she asked, seeing my expression.

  “No, she wouldn’t do it. But this guy says... who are you again?” I asked, wondering how much he knew about my predicament.

  “Andri,” he replied with a theatrical bow. “At your service.”

  He couldn’t have been over twenty-five tops, but might’ve even been as young as seventeen or eighteen. “Ah... Aren’t you kind of young for this sort of thing?” I asked, unable to keep my doubt to myself.

  “Let’s take a stroll, shall we?” he said, giving a pointed look to Lilias’ trailer.

  Part of me wanted to crawl back to the car and give up, but my more stubborn side followed him out of the camp, toward the meadow where we’d done the spell with Jakob. Bridget kept pace with us, her eyes narrowed with suspicion.