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

had graduated from had been in Chinatown.

“Chinatown it is.”

 

Chinatown was not as he remembered it. It reeked of garlic. Troy sneezed a lot and had to put on a surgical facemask to block the rest of the smells. Luckily Art had one on him, though Troy did not know why. It made him think of Rick who had always complained about the garlic smell—which Troy had always thought was the guy just being whiny. Now, he was not so sure. Rick had a reason to complain, and not just due to his super sense of smell. And the more they walked down there, he began to realize that the Gulinger school location in Chinatown may have been on purpose. It made no sense for a vampire or werewolf to live anywhere in that area. It kept Rick indoors, for starters. His father must have liked that. But also, the Chinese were brilliant in keeping away monsters, something he had learned from Chen before he moved on to college.

But they did find the tiger balm not long after entering that part of New York City. It was in a small hexagonal jar, and when he sniffed it, it reminded him of Audry Bruchenhaus and that wolf tee shirt for some reason. It was a funny thing, considering he had only met her briefly.

When they returned back to the apartment, Art went off run errands at the New York branch office for Deacon Enterprises, and admittedly to eat some Italian food that would include garlic. He said he didn’t want to hurt Troy and his allergies, but he was dying for a lasagna. Admittedly, Troy was jealous. He missed his lunch Calzones.

Back in the kitchen, Troy texted Nicole.

 

*I am game. Where would you like to go for dinner?*

 

He put down the phone and started reading the ingredients list on the bottle, making notes. But the writing was so tiny, and most in another language that he squinted until he got a headache.

His phone chimed.

Troy looked and saw he got a text.

 

*Café Marco. It is a new place near Central Park.*

 

Troy remembered passing it on his way a few day. He replied with the text:

 

*I know it. What time is good for you?*

 

As he was about to put his phone down, he got a response.

 

*Six. Are you hungry?*

 

Troy chuckled. This lady was extremely forward. He liked that. It was about time someone hit on him instead of the other way around.

 

*Very. I can’t have garlic, but I am game for anything else.*

 

She texted back:

 

*No problem. See you then.*

 

He smiled at the text. He had a date.

Pleasurably Sidetracked

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Fifteen

 

 

 

It surprised Troy how long those few hours before his date with Nicole felt, but Troy was blown by how long they had stretched. He passed the time examining the contents of the tiger balm bottle before finally going online (with that ridiculous landline connection) to research its ingredients. If his suspicions were correct, Dalton may have delivered the exact help he needed—saving him a ton of time. But that still left Troy with very little do once he got that information.

He then texted Randon, asking him if Silvia knew a thing or two about oils and balms—her being a witch and all. It had occurred to him during that biting victim’s meeting that the one help he needed was perhaps the kind of help Art would dismiss out of hand. Troy kept thinking of account after account of stories where vampirism, witchcraft, and werewolfism were closely connected. Some parts overlapped. What if a witch knew the cure for the bite? Why reinvent the wheel if someone already had it?

As he got a text back from Randon explaining that Silvia was purely giddy at his request for help (which she clearly saw implied in the text as it had not been explicit), Randon also asked if Art would object.

Troy texted back:

 

*His job is to run errands for me, not assist me in the lab like Igor. I need to know if she has any balms that use comfrey that might help me in my research.*

 

Troy then grabbed a clean shirt and quickly brushed up in the bathroom. If his blood had been flowing, his heart would have been pounding. It was strange not feeling it. He was excited, and he had not been this excited in a long time.

Nicole was already there at the café when he arrived, looking absolutely luscious in a fresh dress, her lipstick wet and her long painted lashes fluttering as her eyes searched the area for him. Her short skirt showed off her gorgeous legs, exposing them up to her mid-thigh. Her shoulders and arms were bare, her bodice held up by a thick strap around her neck, the neckline to her dress cut low to allow ample view of her lovely cleavage without revealing them wholly. He noticed she wore an ascot over her bite wound, hiding it, her bandage smaller than before thanks to the comfrey.  

“You look amazing,” he said, rushing up to her. “I hope I’m not late.”

Her cheeks flushed as she smiled at him, her eyes fluttering bashfully. “No. Of course not. I like to get to places early to take in the lay of the land.”

Troy nodded, then led out a hand to a seat, pulling it out for her while hoping for a slightly delayed service. He wanted to talk with this gorgeous lady, now that he had her alone. “How’s your wound? Is it still closed?”

She shook her head, sitting down and allowing him to help scoot her in to the table. “It’s fine. I don’t really want to talk about that anyway. I’m more interested in what you do when you are not mixing cures and running from vampires. I mean, you’ve been doing this sort of thing for a while. I’m curious. You’ve got to have a life beyond that, right?”

He smiled, then he chuckled, sitting down as he wondered if he really did had a life beyond his research. “I used to.”

Nicole laughed. It was like music. “Used to? What? What did you do before all this crazy creepy stuff took over?”

Thinking on that, Troy tried to recall. “I used to be really big into dogs. But I have a friend who is a cat so—”

She laughed. He could see in her eyes that she was probably seeing him as some sort of weird recluse who had a housecat as his only friend.

“Not like that,” he said, deciding not to tell her about Randon until he was sure this gal could be trusted with truly supernatural things. He and the others in the group that first meeting had agreed to keep all supernatural phenomenon out of the dialogue with these people. They did not want to overwhelm the bite victims with tales of demons and angels and witches. Matthew said many of them were dealing with PTSD. For sure, they most certainly wanted to steer clear from discussions about werewolves.

“I have a friend who is into that stuff,” Troy explained, “and he’s now a veterinarian. And… anyway, I was kind of messed up when I got bit, and I kind of have been in emergency mode since then. So, I guess, no. I really haven’t had much of a life.” He sighed to himself. “I suppose I really should start thinking about that more.”

“Yeah,” she said. She rested her hand on his arm, her slim fingers sending an excited rush up him. “Go out more. Do stuff.”

He chuckled, thinking on that. He really had not done anything outside school and research. Not even sports. Was he really the dullest guy on the planet, so obsessed about vampires and finding the cure?

The waitress came by to take their order. “Hi, are you ready to ord—” Her eyes widened on Troy. “Troy? Troy Meecham?”

Troy blinked at her then stared. “Miranda?”

The waitress, Miranda Lucas, who was a pretty brown-haired girl from his class back at Gulinger Private Academy, smiled then nodded apologetically to Nicole. “Sorry, I’m interrupting your date, uh… but it is good to see you in the sunlight.”

Troy lifted his eyebrows, peeking to Nicole before saying, “You didn’t see me stuck in the dark, did you?”

Miranda shook her head. “Oh no. I was just thinking about Carlos’s prediction.”

Unable to blush though he felt embarrassed, Troy cleared his throat uncomfortably. He was about to say something, but as usual Miranda jumped ahead and said, “Of course. I’m here to take your order. Uh, sorry. Um. You wanted the grilled chicken sandwich and you wanted the salmon. No garlic anymore? You used to eat every meal with…” She went pale and took a step back from Troy. “Oh. So it did happen. I’m so sorry. I’ll go get your meals.”

She rushed off.

“But we didn’t even order?” Nicole protested, watching her run to the inner restaurant, growing flustered.

“Were you thinking about the grilled chicken sandwich?” Troy asked Nicole gently.

“Well, yes, but…” Nicole gaped, her cheeks flushing. She looked so cute there, exasperated like that. “Now I am not so sure I want it.”

Troy chuckled. “Yeah… Miranda can do that to you. Uh… I think I need to explain. She’s… um, gifted.”

Nicole’s eyes turned toward him breathlessly. “Like your friend, that cop. Officer Calamori? He’s psychic, right?”

Nodding at first, Troy then shook his head. “Kind of psychic. He can’t actually read your mind. He just hears what you are really thinking when you speak.”

She looked confused, her cute little brows knitting together and her lips puffing close in thought.

“He can’t hear your thoughts when you don’t say anything.” Troy tried to make it clearer. “So he’s not really psychic. Just kind of.”

“And her?”

Chuckling, Troy gazed to where Miranda had gone, having the feeling she was going to send someone else out to tend their table. Miranda always stumbled over herself and got overexcited near ghoulies at risk. And she always got that way near him.

“No,” he said. “Miranda is a pre-cog. She can see about a minute to five minutes into the future the most possible choices people around her will make.”

Nicole drew in a breath and stared the direction Miranda had gone. She then looked to Troy. “What was that she said about you and Carlos’s prediction?”

Groaning inwardly, Troy closed his eyes. “I don’t want to freak you out about the people I went to school with. I mentioned before I went to a school where the kids were cursed and special.”

“I’m not freaked,” she said, trying to pretend her heart was not rabbiting in her chest. “This is interesting.”

It probably was. And in a way, it seemed to excite her… kind of like sitting with a girl during a horror movie. She wanted to be scared so she could hold on to you tighter.

So he said, “Carlos could predict your death.”

She went pale.

“But he could not predict mine,” Troy added. He shook his head.

“But that’s a good thing,” Nicole breathed out.

Troy shook his head. “No. It wasn’t. He predicted friends of mine dying of old age. Since he could not predict my death, it was proof to me the vampires would catch up with me and make me one of them. Undead.”

“Which is what happened…” Nicole nodded to herself.

Shrugging, Troy nodded.

Another waitress came back with their