It’s funny how much you can tell from someone’s expression, their body language, but I was cheating, too. I can’t say that jealousy has a very distinctive smell, but Timothy wore it like his favorite cologne. I nodded at him, grinning as sweetly as I’d grinned at Olivia, letting him know that I knew his secrets. He glowered back, because he knew my secrets, too.
“Pleasure to meet you, Timothy. Olivia, these are my colleagues and housemates. You didn’t get to meet them when you visited me that day.”
You could see the cracks in Timothy’s veneer. Oh ho, so he didn’t know about the time Olivia went to talk to a shirtless vampire.
Asher and Gil made their introductions. Olivia was sweet, as expected, blushing again as she fluttered over her fruit.
“Oh, where are my manners? I meant to drop off a fruit basket, but I’d completely forgotten.”
“Totally unnecessary,” I said, picking up a nectarine and rolling it between my hands. “We’re more than happy to support a local business. We’ll have a little of everything, please.”
Gil raised an eyebrow. “We will?”
“Asher needs his vitamins and nutrients. Growing boy. Aren’t you, Asher?”
He shrugged. “Won’t say no to some quality fruit.”
Olivia smiled. “Oh, you boys are so sweet. We’ll put something together for you right now. Timothy, could you help me, please?”
“Gladly,” Timothy growled, in a tone that implied he wasn’t very glad about anything at all. With Olivia’s back turned, he could take his time scanning our faces, which was honestly a waste of his energy. Anyone within a mile could tell that I was the one with impure intentions for Ms. Everett, not the happily monogamous werewolf, and certainly not the oblivious teenage necromancer.
“I do hope Silveropolis is treating you boys well,” Olivia said, selecting a peach here, an apple there.
“About as well as any old town likes to treat strangers,” Gil said meaningfully.
Olivia nodded, like she understood. “Silveropolis folk tend to keep to their own, stick to themselves. It was different then, back when the town was just for the townsfolk. Oh, no offense meant, gentlemen. It’s always nice to have new blood around. It might just take time for them to warm up to you, is all.”
I grinned at Timothy right over her head, as an answer to his suspicious glares. “Just takes time. Right.”
“Actually, if you wouldn’t mind, we’d love to learn a little bit more about the town.” Asher smiled brightly at her, his odd aura of charisma that he could turn on and off at the drop of a hat suddenly turned up to full blast. “There are so many interesting stories here.”
Olivia lit up. “You’re not wrong there! If these buildings could talk. The town’s history is so rich. My ancestor’s stories alone could fill a book.” Her mouth fell open. “Actually – they did. There are only a few copies around, but Uriah Everett dictated an account of his life, and it was compiled into a journal. I have a copy I could lend you, right at my shop.”
She turned around and pointed past the stalls, away from the night market, towards a row of buildings that, in the darkness, would best be described as little, and quaint.
“We would love to borrow a copy,” Asher said. “That all sounds fascinating.”
There was nothing that could have sounded more boring to me, but I kept a look of intense curiosity pasted onto my face. Asher could handle the nerd stuff and speed read this thing if he had to. Maybe there was something in there about a blood moon – or even the Filigreed Masque.
“Well, then,” Olivia said. “No better way for you to learn about Silveropolis than through the journal. Timothy, finish up selecting the fruit for our guests, would you? Oh, and would you be so kind as to watch the stall? You really are the best.”
Timothy’s face softened for the briefest moment when Olivia laid her hand on his bicep. He darkened again when he saw me smirking from behind her.
“Asher and I will escort you to the shop. Gil can stay here and wait for the fruit.”
Gil frowned. “I will?”
I tucked a hundred-dollar bill in Timothy’s front pocket, smiling, then patting his chest. Ooh. Firm. Must have been from lifting all those crates – and from carrying a torch for Olivia Everett.
“Keep the change, Timmy. Make sure we get some pomelos, won’t you? Love pomelos. We won’t be gone too long.”
Behind me, somewhere, Gil groaned. Timothy looked about ready to punch my head off. Olivia’s head bobbed as she talked excitedly to Asher, totally unaware that anything was even happening.
Asher and I flanked Olivia as we strolled through an especially interesting section of the night market, the one filled with stalls serving all kinds of edible curiosities. The air itself smelled delicious, filled with the mingled scents of hot chocolate, warm pastries, and for some reason, fried and battered cookies.
The part of me that yearned for human food, though, was still completely satisfied from wolfing down Asher’s sinangag. No, the tastier treat was the woman next to me who stood up to my shoulders, whose skin smelled like citrus and cream, whose blood pumped in a tempting, hypnotic rhythm.
My head swam, but I shook it vigorously, clearing it of all fantasies that involved feeding. The hunger for blood was a terrible reminder of how vampires really are little more than animals, once you boil it all down. But couldn’t the same be said for humans? Even the part of town we entered from the edge of the night market was mostly restaurants already shuttered for the night. Nothing but glorified feeding troughs.