This Side of the Grave (#5 Night Huntress)

Fear wafted from him as he looked back and forth between me and Bones, putting it all together with what he’d learned about this club. I watched
him closely as I waited. The Timmie I’d known had been open-minded and kind, albeit ignorant about the undead like everyone else. How much of
who he used to be was still left in the person in front of me? Had the years changed not just his appearance, but his tolerance as well?
“I’m right about all of it, aren’t I?” he asked at last, very softly. “Some of these people . . . they’re not human.”
“No, they’re not,” I answered in a steady tone.
His face paled even more as he looked around at the people by the nearest bar. On the surface, nothing about them looked different from
patrons gathered around any other bar, especially since Timmie couldn’t see the handful of ghosts circling over the last seat on the left. But every so
often, emerald would glint from a person’s gaze. Or someone would move with a quickness that Timmie’s subconscious would register even if his
eyes couldn’t follow.
Finally his shoulders squared as he looked back at me and Bones. “You two aren’t human, either.” A statement, not a question.
“No,” I said gently. “We’re not.”
He shook his head like he was trying to clear it. “Those guys, the ones who grabbed me . . . they were gonna eat me?”
No use lying about that, either. “Oh yeah. Definitely.”
He glanced at Bones. “But you won’t.”
Bones arched a brow as if disputing that. I elbowed him while I said, “No, Timmie, he won’t. Neither of us will hurt you.”
“Tim,” he replied, then gave me a wry smile. “No one’s called me Timmie in years.”
I smiled back. “Sure. And it’s Cat, by the way.”
“Cat.” That wry smile remained. “Guess it suits you better than Cathy.”
“No,” Bones said.
Timmie’s—Tim’s—smile faded. I glanced at Bones in confusion. “No what? You think I look like a Cathy?”
“No to what he’s about to ask you,” Bones replied. “You already owe her for saving you from those other blokes. Don’t thank her by asking for
another large favor.”
Tim clapped his arms around his head. “My God, you can really hear . . . ? Well, stop it!”
Bones laughed outright. I had to admit Timmie did look funny clutching his head, but I didn’t join in Bones’s chuckles.
“Try wrapping tinfoil around your nog next, see if that works better,” he suggested devilishly.
I gave Bones a sharp look, sorry he couldn’t read my mind anymore to hear my mental reprimand. “Stop it. I might have been tempted to do the
same thing myself when I knew certain people could eavesdrop in my head.”
Tim let his arms down. “I don’t care what he says, you gotta help me,” he got out in a rush.
Bones rolled his eyes and then gave Tim a glare that would have struck most people mute out of terror. “Right thick, aren’t you? Let’s see if I can’t
explain my position better outside.”
Off the premises, where violence was allowed? “Don’t even think about it,” I drew out warningly.
“Not for that,” he replied, though his mouth twitched in a way that said the thought had crossed his mind. “Believe me, Kitten, you’ll have wasted
your time saving him before if others hear what he’s about to ask you.”
That didn’t sound promising. But I needed Timmie—dammit, Tim!—for something, too, so I’d hear out his request. Didn’t guarantee I’d agree to
whatever he wanted, but I’d listen.
“Okay. Let’s go outside and talk.”
Timmie gave Bones and me a speculative glance. “Before we go, I gotta know: If mind-reading abilities are real, there’s something else I
wondered if fiction got right about vampires—”
“Ask me if I sparkle and I’ll kill you where you stand,” Bones cut him off with utmost seriousness.
“Not that.” Timmie’s mouth quirked before his expression became serious and, oddly, hopeful. “When I go back to my apartment, is it true that,
uh, your kind can’t come inside?”
I hated to destroy his sense of safety, but believing that would only be dangerous for him.
“Sorry, that’s a myth. Vampires don’t need to be invited to go anywhere they want to.” I didn’t add that we’d already been in his apartment earlier,