Once Bitten, No Longer Shy by Julie Steimle (to read list TXT) 📖

a shrug, cutting him off to save time. Troy could tell Art had heard something about the Paris visitors which apparently he thought ought to be a secret. The question was, from whom? Troy knew through Tom that Rick had some kind of family connection in Paris, though he did not know the exact particulars. Cousins maybe? Or maybe they were lovechildren, as the Deacons were wealthy and wealthy people did crazy things.

“So the Deacon’s steward suggested we use the penthouse?” Hanz repeated to make sure he heard correctly.

“That’s right,” Art said, nodding. “Mr. Deacon won’t be needing it for a while so we are welcome to it. He said he would give us the key when the time comes.”

Troy wondered when that would be. However, he nodded, agreeing it was better than hanging out at Matthew’s small apartment. Standing in his new place now, he felt rather spoiled.

Dealing with People

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Eleven

 

 

The following day they visited Dr. William McAllister and his wife, Jane, at the hospital. Hanz and Troy proposed to them the same idea as they had Matthew and JJ, asking for help with their support group.

“That’s a great idea,” William replied, busy putting away medical supplies he had just received from staff. A large box of bandages and a bottle of single-use iodine swabs were on the counter which he had been extracting from an even larger cardboard container. Troy watched William as the man took out a used notebook from a locked drawer. “Would you like me to recommend all of the bite victims I have been treating to you?”

Troy nodded. “That’s our hope. Mr. Lenox and I are thinking about having our first meeting around the end of this month.

William nodded, jotting that down. “Ok.”

“Can you also attend then?” Troy asked, watching him carefully.

“We’ll schedule it,” William said with a nod.

“Can you really do that?” Hanz asked, knowing William McAllister was in the same boat as he was when it came to medical training. Dr. McAllister was a resident doctor with a tight schedule.

But with a knowing smile, William nodded again. “If I let the hospital director know the reason, I am sure he will allow it.”

“Will has a bit more leeway than most doctors at the hospital,” Jane explained with a fond smile at her husband. Winking to Hanz, she added, “They actually rely heavily on him when dealing with the, uh, unusual patients. And they allow me the same leeway for the same reason.”

Troy nodded slowly, watching Hanz puzzle over that. But of course he understood. William McAllister would be indispensable. Probably next to nothing terrified him after having a sister like Eve, so he was most likely their go-to guy for any and all supernatural patients. They probably even used him to handle the average thug. There was something calm and in-control about William McAllister that Troy did not see much in other people. Though he glanced at Hanz and realized that he possessed the same thing. The same aura… though Hanz’s seemed more innocent than William. William had a hidden edge to him, like a sheathed sword. Hanz still gave the impression of a lost Norse god.

Before leaving, they confirmed once more that Dr. and Nurse McAllister would join them for the first meeting scheduled at the end of the month. They also arranged for them to help contact any and all people interested in joining the group, jotting it down. After that, Troy and Hanz spent the rest of the time at the library where they visited the Holy Seven’s website and requested their help with their support group, asking for contact as soon as possible.

Art met Hanz and Troy later that afternoon at the apartment, informing them both that the painting crew were coming in early and all the wiring, insulation and drywall were already up in the new lab. They intended to paint before putting in the door frames, and other features—so the three of them had to spend that night at the Deacon family penthouse.

A car was sent for them.

Robert was driving.

“So, you’re our chauffer now, huh?” Troy asked as they climbed in.

“Bodyguard,” Robert said, grinning. “It’s a theory that even a vampire can’t hurt me.”

Gazing at him a moment, Troy figured he was probably right.

They spent the following three days at the penthouse. Or rather, around the penthouse as Art got up early every morning and went jogging before returning to work on making contacts and confirming legalities to make sure whatever they were doing was above board. He was in and out of the apartment all day. On the first day at the Deacons’, Hanz took off after breakfast with Robert to arrange for a possibility Mr. Deacon had dredged up enabling him to go abroad, which required interviews with several committee members, of what organizations Troy did not know. Hanz had been going on interviews since. Troy was the only one pent up indoors, but he spent all that time working on his research. He only left the apartment in the evenings—just to get out and check in with Mr. Lenox.

He and Art agreed that he no longer needed an escort, so Troy went alone to do his business. Troy had proved to the other two that he was strong enough to take on most thugs when he had bench pressed all the weights combined in the gym down in the community basement connected to the Deacon’s penthouse. Art looked rattled, actually. Hanz clapped and agreed openly that Troy no longer needed that sort of assistance. Hanz did, however, recommend he not make himself a target for vampires while out in the evening, as they would most likely be stronger still and outnumber him.

As he went out, Troy noticed that he was being followed. He could hear an irregular heartbeat behind him from the parking garage to when he walked outside about a block. It sounded like a pair of drums rather than just one beating human heart. He never could quite get a glance of whom the heartbeat belonged to. Only that it was not human and the owner of it was disappointed every time to see Troy was not one of the Deacons. Troy mentioned this to Rick one time when he came around to check in on them sometime on the third day (Rick was there mostly to give them a heads up on the construction in the apartment and let them know they could use the penthouse for another week before moving back).

“Yeah…” Rick said with a nod. “I’m not sure what it is either. I can smell it. I’ve never exactly seen it with my eyes. And it follows me sometimes. But I don’t know if it is hostile or not. It was following us when Abey sensed it from the elevator that morning… and I think it was scared of him. But it has never really done anything to harm Dad or me. I think it lives in the parking garage.”

Troy frowned. “Wouldn’t it be a good idea to find out what it is?”

Rick shrugged. “Maybe. But I get the feeling that we should just leave it alone. It might just be like a stray cat.”

“With two heartbeats?” Troy lifted his eyebrows at him, wondering what kind of demon a werewolf attracted.

Chuckling, Rick nodded. “Ok… stray supernatural creature. But still, that is no reason to harass it. I have sort of a live and let live philosophy.”

Troy stared. He had to admit that pretty much summed Rick up. The problem was, dangerous things, if left to live, grew more dangerous.

When Rick departed that evening, Troy was left with a lot to think about—though he finally shrugged it off and went back to his research.

Around the middle of the following week, Troy went out to get materials so he could recreate the manuscript he was studying. He knew eventually the people at the medical school library would figure out the manuscript was missing. And they would come searching for those who had expressed interest in it in the past—so he had to put it back sooner or later.

He went to an arts and crafts store for the proper parchment. It was not his usual sort of store—yet Hanz had tipped him off, saying if he wanted paper arts and craft stores were the placed to get it. Troy wandered the aisles also for inks and tools to make watermarks. There were invisible inkings on the parchment he needed to copy, and particular folds, perforations with patterns, and quill calligraphy which needed to be copied precisely—so he also picked up rulers and a protractor. He had been staring at the drafting tables, wondering if he ought to get a professional one, before settling for a table-top portable type with a handle.

He found a place in the checkout behind a woman with a conservative bob in her streaked honey colored hair who was purchasing stacks and stacks of pink and purple fat quarter calico prints for quilting. Behind her was a punked-out gal with black and red dyed hair, buying feather boas, nylon string, beads upon beads, balsa wood, and with a huge bag of googly eyes. He shifted uneasily under their stares at him.

“What’s your project?” the punked-out gal asked, her thick purple lipstick shining wetly with invitation. She smelled nice. Like vanilla and cinnamon gum. Her blood had a faint garlic smell to it, though, causing his nose to itch.

Troy blinked at her, thought for a second and replied, “Uh, calligraphy.”

She nodded. “Cool.”

But then his curiosity got the better of him. He asked, “What about you?”

She held up her shopping basket, smiling. “Oh, puppets.”

He stared.

“I’m a puppeteer,” she said. “I make hand puppets and marionettes.”

“Oh…” Troy examined her things once more. It made sense now. “Do you perform with them? Or just make them?”

She smiled wider. “I’m part of a troop. Yourself?”

Sighing, Troy replied, “I’m a med school student, actually. I’m studying ancient pathology and pharmacology, though. My thesis is based off of old manuscripts, and I need to recreate some of them as part of my research.”

“Cool.” She nodded, grinning at him. “So, like, you look at old bestiaries or something?”

His eyes opened a little wider, wondering if she was doing more than puppeteering. Bestiaries were rare things most folk knew nothing about. Witches, however, knew a lot about them.

Seeing his expression, she explained, “I’m into herbal remedies and pagan stuff. I also perform at renaissance fairs and stuff, so I see all sort of stuff and meet all kinds of people who are into that.”

Troy nodded again. It made sense, but he remained uneasy.

“You’ve got the total goth thing goin’ on,” she said, grinning at him with what he realized was her flirtatious smile. “Are you into steam punk or, are you more of the emo trend?”

Chuckling, Troy shook his head.

She drew in a breath, pulling back as her heart made a jump, beating faster. Immediately he knew she had seen his teeth. Of course she had not seen his eyes as he was wearing sunglasses, but Troy felt that quick shift in the air toward terror. She stiffened. Then she looked to the window of the store where the sun was shining in. He could hear her heart speed up faster.

“Hey,” he