“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” I suddenly blurt out and everyone looks at me. “I can’t take this maudlin silence any longer. This is supposed to be a good thing.”
No one responds to my outburst, but instead Nico flicks on the radio. “Don’t Fear the Reaper” by Blue Oyster Cult blares out of the speakers – how apt.
Devon snickers. At least I can count on him and throw him a small smile. I glare at Cole, who is glaring out of the window.
I sigh and say, “We can turn around if you want.”
CK stiffens visibly.
Startled, Cole turns to me. “No, Liv! I want to do this, but I just need…” He throws his hand up to run it through his hair.
“Me to shut the fuck up?” I ask.
He chuckles. “Please.”
I nod and mime zipping my mouth. He goes back to staring out of the window and I go back to glaring at him behind my Ray-Bans. I try to think of anything but this prophecy. I hope against hope that it isn’t true, and that it isn’t about me.
T en minutes later we arrive at our destination: a deserted chapel in the countryside. It is small and run-down. I panic when I see two men standing outside, but Nico gets out, motioning us to stay put. The tension is rolling off Cole now, causing us three Vampires to go into Hunting mode.
“Crack a window, would you, Dev?” I choke out.
“Gladly,” comes his reply.
I can see CK’s shoulders relax slightly as the fresh air breezes in. After a few minutes, Nico heads back to the car and lets us out with an “All clear.” He whispers to CK who nods and turns to me to see if I overheard. I nod and he leads us into the chapel. I gasp in surprise as we enter. There are candles everywhere. It has an eerie beauty to it. The altar, big enough for a man to lie on, is covered with a red velvet throw which reaches the ground and there is a bottle of red wine and two glasses sitting on top. I’m shocked that CK has arranged this for me, for us. I know he is against this and would rather be anywhere else right now, but he does it to help me. I turn to thank him and see his eyes on me, taking in my reaction, his expression unreadable. My heart thuds, and my mouth goes dry, as I realize this is akin to what he had planned for me before he was forced to turn me in the barn. I pull my hand out of Cole’s, who is staring around in wonder and walk over to CK, throwing my arms around him.
He knows I know and whispers to me in Italian, “It’s what you deserve.” I kiss him sweetly in thanks. He steps back and after a long look at me, he whispers, “Be quick. If they turn up before the act is complete, things will get ugly,” and he stalks back outside. I gulp at his words. I have no idea how far he would go to protect me, or Cole for that matter, from his colleagues. Ugly indeed.
Cole joins me and whispers, “Wow. He went all out, huh?” I nod. He pulls me to him in a tight hug.
Devon, ever one to lighten a mood and to also make his place known, clears his throat. “So, is this what I would have gotten had my mother not mortally wounded me with a pitchfork?”
I grin and say sarcastically, “You wish. I kind of had you pegged for more of a quickie in the graveyard type.” He howls with laughter. Cole chuckles too. With the mood lightened considerably, I let go of Cole and step back.
“Let me know when you’re ready,” I say and walk over to pour out the two glasses of wine. “You might need this.” I hand him one, he accepts it, downs it in one gulp and holds it out for more. I oblige and hoist myself up onto the altar to wait. Devon joins me, instinctively knowing that I need him there and we share the second glass, watching Cole wander over to the cracked, stained glass window and look closely at The Madonna depicted there.
He gulps down the rest of his glass and returns to us slowly. “One more for the road?” he asks, holding out his glass while I pour. I tip the remainder into my glass and hand the empty bottle to Devon, who looks at the label and whistles.
“Château Le Pin Pomerol, 1999. Dude, you’ve just polished off a nine-hundred-dollar bottle of wine in under five minutes!”
Cole’s eyes widen as he holds the glass up to his mouth. He looks into it as if it should be made of gold and not grapes. “No way?” he says.
I chuckle and nod. “Yes, way. It’s probably the shortest time in recorded history that a bottle has ever lasted!”
Cole grins and shrugs and downs the rest of his glass to Devon’s delight.
I finish off the rest of mine and hand the glass to Devon. He jumps off the altar and takes Cole’s glass to place them on an old pew.
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” he says softly and turns to leave.
“Stay!” Cole says a bit too loudly. “Erm, if you want to, that is,” he adds, turning to him.
Devon and I are wearing matching shocked faces. Cole shrugs.
Devon recovers first and says, “Yeah, yeah, of course.” He moves back towards the front of the chapel.
“Are you sure?” I ask Cole quietly.
He nods.