Chasing Daybreak (Dark of Night Book 1) (17 page)

“I still want those things,” I admitted, taking another step back.

It was my plan. Even though the first part hadn’t worked out so well, it didn’t mean I couldn’t have the rest.

“I see. And those were things he could no longer give you.”

“Exactly.”

“But what does any of that have to do with sex?”

Although his voice was seductive again, it had less of an effect on me that time. I shook my head.

“I’m not one of those girls who just has sex with whoever. I want to be with someone I love, to give myself to someone I want to be with forever.” I bit my lip as the last words left my mouth, but then continued quickly, “I’m sure there are lots of girls who’d be happy to have a roll in the hay with you.” I pointed my thumb back toward my chest. “Just not this one.”

Xavier took a step back and looked at me with his head tilted, like I’d just done a magic trick or something, and he was trying to figure it out. “Very well. I’m sorry if I offended you.”

I waved it off. “It’s fine. I’m going home now.”

“But, I think I would still like to woo you. You are a most fascinating woman, Isabel.” He lowers his voice to a dry whisper, “And you taste like strawberries and champagne.”

I rolled my eyes. “Seriously, please don’t. I have enough on my plate right now.”

He smiled, the dimple appearing, “That’s not a no.”

I wasn’t sure if I just didn’t have the energy to correct him or if somewhere deep down, I liked the idea of being pursued by a good-looking guy, even if nothing would ever come of it.

Before I walked out the door, I added over my shoulder, “Look after Shane, okay?”

“I will,” he promised.

Taking him at his word, I nodded and left the room. I hadn’t made it as far as the front door before a scream and a crash drew me back to the ballroom. I kicked off my heels and ran full out, hiking up the hem of my gown as I moved.

The crowd had parted, and the music stopped. Mercy was screaming. Shane was lying on the floor, blood pouring out of his mouth as he heaved. The man who’d sat beside Xavier during the ceremony was standing over Shane, wiping a gouge in his neck with a handkerchief.

“What happened?” I screamed at Mercy.

Seeing me, her face twisted in rage. “This is your fault!” She pointed her finger in my face.

I skidded on my knees to a stop in front of Shane. He’d made it to all fours and was spitting blood onto the floor as his whole body convulsed.

Xavier must have come up behind me because I heard him demand, “Explain.”

Ahnarra answered. “Sir, the neonate said something to Gerard about a dead human. Gerard told Shane to leave the detective to him, and Shane attacked him.”

Even as he barked orders, Xavier grabbed me by the arm and pulled me up, tossing me like a rag doll to one of the guards. “Get Ms. Stone home. Clear out all the humans. Gerard, Ahnarra, Shane, to my office.” I started to protest, but he turned to me. “This is a Conclave matter.” Over his shoulder, he added, “And Mercy, clean this mess up.”

“You promised to look after him,” I reminded him quietly.

Mercy shot Xavier a look of shock, and then of insolence, but said nothing. I smiled over the shoulder of the guard who was carrying me toward the door. As I was being hauled off, I saw Shane rise to his feet, blood still dripping from his chin. He gave me a subtle nod, letting me know he was all right. For now at least.

This was what Shane wanted
, I told myself. Mercy being put in her place was just a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day. Shane would be in deep trouble, that much I knew, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. He’d have to hold his own with his new ‘family.’ As much as I wanted to help, I knew I couldn’t.

The guard put me down at the door, letting me walk to the car myself. A few flashbulbs went off, but they quickly recognized me as a mere human and turned their attention to the more exotic vampire guard. They shouted at him, everything from “How’s the party?” to “How can you justify your existence?” Without Shane on my arm, I was no longer newsworthy.

I slid as gracefully as possible into the shiny, black stretch limo, the noise from the crowd outside going from a deafening roar to barely audible. Suddenly, it was my wedding day all over again. In that silent car, it felt like someone had punched a hole in my chest. I wasn’t sure if it was just the emotions from that night or the devastation from that miserable day so long ago seeping back into my soul, but I’d never felt so alone in my entire life.

“Where to, Miss?” the driver asked, snapping me out of my pity party.

“Take me home.”

The house was completely dark when I walked in the door. I leaned back against the smooth wood, just letting myself breathe in and out. When I felt calm again, I flipped on the light switch, tossing my keys on the table and kicking off my shoes as I moved down the hallway toward the kitchen. I hit that switch and nearly jumped out of my skin.

“What the fu—?”

“Hey, sis,” Heather said calmly, interrupting my expletive.

Phoebe smiled, dangling a DVD case from two fingers. “We brought tequila, ice cream, and
Dune
, the remake.”

My little sisters were sitting at the marble-top table, each grinning like they had just lit the cat on fire or something.

Heather was wearing a light blue, spaghetti-strap dress with clouds on it. Her hair was pulled into symmetrical buns over each ear, peacock feather earrings dangling from each lobe. Phoebe had on a ratty David Bowie T-shirt and plaid pajama pants.

“What is it, sneak-up-on-Isabel day or something?” I complained, clutching my chest in mock surprise.

“We knew you’d be feeling down tonight. Figured we’d come have a sleepover, keep you company.” Heather smiled and stood to make her way to the cabinets, where she started rummaging. “Let’s make popcorn.”

Phoebe slid out of her seat and gave me a hug, tequila bottle in hand, before jerking her head towards Heather. “At least we won’t have to fight her for the worm.”

I debated sending them back to Mom’s. But, truth be told, I was really glad not to be alone.

“Aha!” Heather turned, holding a bag of microwave popcorn over her head.

I snatched it away, pulled off the wrapper, and tossed it in the microwave. Then I hugged her. “Thanks for being here.”

“We’re family. Family looks out for each other, right?”

“Right,” Phoebe chimed in, retrieving some glasses from the dishwasher.

“So,” I kicked off my shoes, “what kind of ice cream did you bring?”

Phoebe moved to the freezer. “What, do I look like an amateur?” She held up a pint of triple fudge brownie.

Heather grabbed three spoons.

“Hold on there, sis. Can you eat dairy? I mean, it comes from cows,” I teased.

Heather brandished the spoons like weapons. “If you try to keep that ice cream away from me, I swear I’ll poke you in the eye with this spoon.”

Phoebe and I laughed at her serious face, then Phoebe poured a round into the shot glasses and handed them out.

“To family,” she offered.

“To family,” Heather and I said in unison.

Three glasses of tequila, a pint of ice cream, and two hours of
Dune
later, we were all warm and slurry. Like when we were children, I’d dragged all the blankets and pillows out, and we’d nested on the living room floor.

Heather was snoring softly as she lay snuggled on a tower of pillows.

“Izzy, can I ask you something serious?” Phoebe swallowed the last of the amber liquid in her glass.

“Oh, you can ask, but I might be too drunk to give you a serious answer.”

She shifted onto her knees. “Okay. You and Shane, what happened? I mean, the whole story.”

It was my turn to shift. “The bachelor party was just ending. Shane was drunk. He left the club alone, decided to walk back to the hotel to clear his head. He was attacked on the way. He never told me any specifics. Just that he saw a woman walking toward him, and then he woke up in the cage at the Conclave.”

“And you, what? Gave up on him?”

I bristled. “No. I mean, I did what I could. He’s here, or was here, living in my attic. What was I supposed to do?”

Phoebe set her empty glass on the table. “You were supposed to stand by him. That’s what you do when you love somebody, right? I mean, it was like you were all ready to marry him, then you just gave up on him. When he needed you to be there, you bailed.”

“I did not bail on Shane,” I protested, clutching a pillow. “I was there when he was locked in that cage, out of his mind with bloodlust. I was there when they let him out, when his parents shunned him, when the school fired him. I was there the whole time.”

“But, you didn’t love him anymore?” she asked, eyes sincere. “I’m not trying to pick at the scab; I really want to understand.”

I sighed. “Of course I still loved him. I still do love him, in a way. But we don’t have a future together anymore.”

In a move I never saw coming, she smacked me upside the head with a pillow.

“Ow! What was that for?” I smacked her back.

“Because you’re an idiot.”

“Thanks for the support, sis,” I snapped.

“I mean it, Izzy. Do you ever have that feeling like you just missed out on something that could have been amazing? That’s what I see when I look at you and Shane. You two could be amazing. Epic.”

“We could have been,” I admitted.

“That’s what I mean. It’s not too late, you know. He’s here. You’re here. And really, he’s worth it, isn’t he? Isn’t he worth the risk, Isabel?”

“You know, you’re a morose drunk.”

“At least I know enough that when something good walks into my life, I hold onto it with both hands. Where you are just a wuss.”

I stared at my reflection in my now-empty glass, wondering when my little sister had gotten smarter than me.

***

When I opened my eyes, I had a crick in my neck, Heather and Phoebe were gone, and the clock read 1:13 PM. I dragged myself upstairs and into the shower after turning on the coffee pot, something I hadn’t had to do for myself since the day Shane had moved in. Luckily for me, I didn’t have a headache after the previous night’s binge. However, I did replay Phoebe’s words over and over in my head. I knew she was right. I just wasn’t sure what to do about it. Besides, Shane had moved on, and with the Wicked Bitch of the East to boot.

I was just drying off when the phone rang. Remembering that I was alone in the house, I defiantly walked from the bathroom to my bedroom without putting on a robe.

“Hello. Stone Private Investigations. How can I help you?”

“Izzy, it’s me.” Shane’s voice was casual, as if last night had never happened.

“What can I do for you, Shane?”

“I have some information for you.”

“You can tell me when you come by to get your junk out of my attic.” I smiled a little as I rubbed lotion onto my legs.

There was a shuffling sound, and then it was Xavier’s voice on the phone.

“Please come by my office today. We have some things to discuss. Five o’clock.”

The phone was shuffled again, and Shane was back on the line.

“You in trouble already?” I asked jokingly.

“You have no idea. See you at five.”

I hung up the phone, curiosity going into overdrive. Shane had stumbled onto something during the ceremony, and I was betting whatever it was, it was bigger than I’d thought. Dressing quickly I headed downstairs to the smell of coffee brewing in the kitchen. It wasn’t quite finished, but not patient enough to wait, I quickly swapped out the pot and my empty mug, the slow drip bubbling just a little as I made the transition.

I searched the cupboards for something to eat, coming up with only a half loaf of bread and some jelly. By the time I’d burnt my toast, the coffee cup was full and I quickly switched the pot back so it could finish filling.

My office was a mess, which wasn’t typical. Of course, Shane had always been the one picking up behind me, so it did make sense. It also made my insides ache just a little. I’d had a lunch meeting on the books with a prospective client that day, so I called and rescheduled. I was simply too out of sorts to deal with anyone just yet. Then I spent the hours before the meet with Xavier pacing around the house, cleaning everything in sight, and going over the case file once more.

Cleaning helped me settle down and allowed my mind to focus on something other than the big, empty house. And it wasn’t just a physical cleaning, I realized. It was an emotional one. The time had come to let go of all the crap that’d been weighing me down for so long. The wedding that wasn’t, Dad’s death, leaving school to take over the business—they had all been slowly eating away at me like a cancer. And I was done with all of them.

With a burst of inspiration, or perhaps insanity, I rearranged the living room and the office. It was something my mother did every so often, her way of feeling like she was in control even when other parts of her life were spinning wildly. I couldn’t tell you how many times I’d woken up after a night that Dad was on stakeout to find the entire house had been reorganized, the furniture moved, and the photos on the walls rearranged.

By four o’clock, the place sparkled, everything was organized, and I was feeling much better. Realizing how grubby I’d become, thanks to dust bunnies the size of Shetland ponies hiding under the sofa, I decided to throw on some fresh clothes. I brushed out my hair, slipping into a pair of gray slacks and a black, vest-like top, and then examined myself in the mirror. With a final burst of vanity, I added the strand of pearls my mother had given me after my high school graduation. Not sure who I was dressing up for, I tossed my leather jacket over my shoulder and headed for the mansion.