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It was said vampires didn’t have souls. I never gave it much thought. It didn’t matter to me because I didn’t intend to die. But now, I swear I felt my soul—or something deep inside of me—fracture.
“Forgiveness means giving up my anger at your actions. It doesn’t mean there are no consequences to your actions,” I said. “How very inconvenient.”
Rupert’s eyes bulged, and I wondered if today would be the day one of us pushed him over the edge into a homicidal maniac.
About an hour later, Killian emerged from the basement. I wasn’t surprised to see he looked barely disheveled, and not noticeably meeker—but the House is magical, not a miracle-worker I suppose.
I half smiled as I watched the vampire take a measured sip from his glass. “You’re a good egg, Rupert.” Rupert rolled his eyes. “I’m a vampire, not a dragon shifter.”
The Paragon ignored him and rummaged through his pockets, pulling out his smartphone to show me a picture of the cat. She was sitting on her pet bed, wearing a purple onesie with a hood and floppy rabbit ears. Can I just say it? That cat puts up with a lot.
The Night Court still crowded as far away from us as they could get, but it was over. The Drake vampires were offering each other curt nods and a few smiles and back slaps, until Momoko hugged Celestina and it became a free-for-all hug fest that involved most wizards chasing down slightly panicking vampires. (My favorite, I think, was when June snuck up on Rupert and gave him a hug. He squealed like a pig, but sat through it like an obedient dog.)
“You have an inappropriate sense of humor.” Although his words were critical, the lines of his muscles were more relaxed. “I don’t know why you were expecting anything different,” I said. “I beat a wizard senseless with a dictionary.”
