Solving the Vampire Murders

fourteen

"I need a favor," Mandy blurted. "A big one."

"That much I expected," he answered. Jotting down notes in a small notebook before turning back to the microscope.

"And—and you can't tell Clint about it either, okay?

At the mention of Clint's name, Faris leaned back in his stool. Removing his face mask and gloves before crossing his arms. "This is starting to sound less like a favor, and more like a giant pain in the ass. You know how he is."

Mandy's gaze found its way back to the floor. She did know how Clint was. His moods were mercurial. One minute he would be your best friend, laughing and drinking and dancing. The next, well, she didn't like to think about what he had done to poor Mona. She let some information slip to the wrong person—a Practitioner no less—and Clint's wrath had been horrible.

"Where do you keep the wine?"

"Under the desk to the left," Faris answered. "There's a bottle opener tucked in one of the slots."

Mandy found a bottle of Merlot with a cream-colored label, claiming to be from France.

That would do.

She uncorked it with the ease of a girl who had spent six years searching for the pain-numbing effects promised with every empty bottle. She lifted the bottle to her lips, but Faris yanked it away.

"That's a twenty-five hundred dollar bottle of wine," he huffed. Cradling the bottle in his hands like some people would hold a pet. "At least pour it in good crystal."

"Twenty-five hundred dollars? Are you joking?" Mandy pulled up a stool of her own while Faris procured two stemless wine glasses, pouring a less-than generous portion.

"I never joke about good wine. Now talk."

Mandy took a sip, letting the warmth of the alcohol heat her throat. "First, you have to swear you won't tell Clint."

"Alright, alright. I swear. Now, what is it?"

"Well," Mandy began. Twisting the end of her ponytail between her fingers. "You know my friend? The one I wanted to spend time with tonight?"

Faris pulled his dark brows together. "The chap who wants to be a barrister?"

"That's the one. Well, when he came over tonight, he kinda told me one of his roommates was murdered."

Faris raised the glass to his lips, staring pensively down. He always drank wine like it was a sacred act. Tasting the tang of the grapes and currants, the sweetness of blackberries. Drawing in the warmth of each ray of sunlight that ever fell upon the fruit. He didn't just drink wine—he savored it.

As she watched Faris swirl his glass, Mandy wondered if he had treated her blood with such care. Drawing in each moment of her life, every piece of her before the first drop touched his tongue.

Finally, he took a sip. Eyes closing. Thick black lashes feathering his skin. "Mortal life is such a fragile thing. But without death, where would we be?"

The words rolled through her like distant thunder. Mandy tipped her head back and drained her glass, trying to banish the image of her father's blue lips.

"I'm sorry," Faris said quietly. Mandy's gaze lifted from her empty glass to his cherry lips. "That's not what I meant. I didn't mean to imply—"

"It's fine. I'm fine."

Faris opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, then shut it, opting instead to pour her another glass of wine. Mandy lifted her glass to his and let the crystal ring.