I lifted my eyebrows. “I just don’t think I can ask that of him. He’s a house friend, not a crew member, you know?”
Austin leaned down and kissed me on the temple. “You’re a pure soul. Let’s hope Elliot doesn’t tarnish that when you kill him.”
I couldn’t help thinking, Let’s hope I don’t balk when I get my chance to end it.
Seven
I held my belly as I headed to the deck with my glass of wine, the tangerine sun kissing the horizon. Fuchsia, violet, and deep purple streaked the sky. A shape lingered on the ground below, hunched over the dimming blue and butter yellow meadow flowers that Austin had planted in honor of our first date. The spritz of a spray bottle caught the dying light as the water misted onto the plants.
I laid my free hand on the deck banister, looking down at Edgar. “Hey.”
He snapped straight and spun, jamming the spray bottle behind his back. “Miss Jessie, hello. How was dinner? It smells divine.”
I grinned down at him as Austin came out behind me, his guitar in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. He didn’t seem fazed by seeing Edgar—he just set his things down so he could move the barbecue out of the way and pull the circular gas firepit from the side.
“It was so good.” I turned my face skyward. “Fresh pasta is a treat I’ll never get used to, and the sauce just melted in my mouth.”
“Oh, fantastic. How about dessert? Did you have that?”
Being a vampire, Edgar’s food source was a vein. He had no use or even memory of anything else. He knew I loved Austin’s cooking more than anything, though, and never passed up a chance to let me gush about it.
“He had some homemade chocolate chip cookies on hand.”
“With walnuts?”
“No walnuts. He made them for me the other night.”
“Oh, good, yes. You hate walnuts. It’s the fastest way to ruin a chocolate chip cookie, I remember you saying.”
Austin put wood into the firepit and lit it before sitting in his chair and lifting the guitar into his lap. He strummed the strings, the notes rising into the peaceful evening.
“What are you doing down there?” I asked Edgar, half wishing the rest of Ivy House had come with him. I loved Austin’s house, but the more time I spent here, the more I missed my crew, the strange antics of the house itself. Most importantly, I felt safe on Ivy House property in a way I couldn’t feel safe anywhere else in the world.
“Or maybe I just need to remodel and modernize Ivy House and have Austin over more,” I murmured to myself, chewing on my lip, wishing I could just transplant Austin’s whole house onto Ivy House property. I’d have to install a mountain, though. Because that was something people did every day…
“What’s that?” Edgar called up.
“Huh?” Austin paused in playing his guitar.
I shook my head. “Sorry, my mind is wandering. What’s in the squirt bottle, Edgar? You’re not trying to create attack flowers, are you?”
“Ha-ha-ha…” Edgar’s uncomfortable laugh wasn’t fooling anyone. “No, Jessie, not to worry. Though, now that you mention it…”
“No, Edgar.”
“Yes, Jessie, of course. Of course you’re right. The sunflower didn’t go well. But then again, it’s not like it had legs. It couldn’t actually chase anyone.”
“I love that little patch of meadow flowers, Edgar, I don’t want to have to call the basajaun in to eat it.”
“Yes, Jessie. Right. Though…the alpha does have a lovely singing voice. Better than the artists on my eight-tracks.”
“Eight-tracks?”
“Yes. I just never could get into radio. Eight-tracks have superior quality as far as I’m concerned. But the alpha blows them all out of the water. He could definitely do great things for attack flowers.”
“Maybe we’ll try again on Ivy House and let him at it, but let’s keep those meadow flowers normal, okay?”
“Yes, Jessie. I was just tending them—like normal. Just the normal tending.” He paused for a moment, and I wondered why he was hiding the squirt bottle if it contained nothing but the normal elixir… “I must admit, the possibility of militarized flowers has really gotten my ideas flowing. Have you thought about trying to make a potion or elixir that allows plants to speak? Or…maybe not speak but squeal? If someone tricked Ivy House again, and got onto the property without any of us knowing, then the flowers could all squeal and alert us. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
“Just this morning I found out the dolls could squeal, Edgar.” The music twanged, Austin’s fingers scraping across the strings. “I’m not ready for flowers.”
“Sure. Yes, it is a little progressive.” Edgar nodded. “I’ve always been a little ahead of my time. Don’t worry, Jessie, I’ll keep thinking.”
“Great,” I said dryly.
Spray bottle still behind his back, he started to wander deeper into the woods.
I frowned at him. “Did you plant more flowers in the woods?”
“Oh no. Who would see them? I don’t even think animals come around here—they’re afraid of the big bad bear.” He sang the last part. “No, I’ll just stick around for a while and make sure nothing tries to sneak up on you.”
“The gargoyles are here. I think we’re covered. I’d hate to keep you away from home all night.”
“The thing about the gargoyles is, when they’re in their other form…their heads are made of rock.” Edgar stared at me. “Their brains are stone.”
I stared back at him, not quite sure what to say.
“Can’t argue with reason,” Austin murmured, and laughter bubbled up inside me.
“I don’t mind, Jessie, really.” Edgar stepped farther away. “It’s refreshing to explore a new area. Maybe some night hikers will wander this way. Or some shifters who plan to attack the alpha and will instead make an unexpected blood donation.”
I watched him take incremental steps until he finally stepped behind a tree and disappeared from sight.
“You are the only reason why I allow that sort of madness near my home, I hope you know that,” Austin said as I shook my head and took a seat next to him. The flames licked the small logs within the pit and danced into the air. “If you ever wonder how much you mean to me, look no further than Edgar hanging out in my yard with a spray bottle.”
“What about Mr. Tom?” I turned my chair with an evil smile, slipped off my shoes, and propped my feet on his thigh. “If you let Mr. Tom hover around in the mornings, getting us stuff, being his weird self, what will that say about your feelings for me?”
The tune he played was soft and sweet, slow and delicious. His fingers moved deftly over the strings, strumming or plucking, sliding and pressing. He didn’t speak for a moment, playing that gorgeous melody.
Finally he said, “It would say that I was lost to you, completely, without regret. That I would give you the world if it would make your heart sing.” His gaze met mine. “That I would stop at nothing to make you happy and comfortable. It would be my greatest joy as your mate and your lover.”