Always the Vampire

He held up his hand, his gaze solemn. “Promise.”


I marched to the bedroom hoping Saber would live long enough to keep his vow. But as I wrestled to flatiron the worst of the curls and waves and frizzies from my hair, and debated what to wear, I struggled with a deep, persistent fear.

If I fully embraced my vamp powers, what kind of monster might I become?





Ocean Enchantments, Triton’s new store.

I’d seen the two-story, 1950s structure every time I’d come to the island to surf. Built slightly catty-corner to Anastasia Boulevard in the shadow of the lighthouse, the cinder-block building housing Triton’s store had been stark white with blue trim around the front door and the many oversized windows. Now it sported palm-frond green paint with deep gray green trim that should have been soothing. And the mermaid-shaped sign in bright, iridescent colors that swung from the store’s covered entrance? That should’ve been cheery. Instead it creaked as if the salt air had already corroded the metal rings.

Since I didn’t feel all that enchanted, soothed, or cheery at the moment, I took the creepy creaking as an omen. A very bad omen, I decided when a gust of wind made the sign screech again.

But, hey, I’d faced down killers. In comparison to that, this meeting would be a snap.

I smoothed my semi-tamed, claw-clipped hair back with a trembling hand. From his stance beside me on the sidewalk, Saber put an arm around my waist and drew me to his side.

“In case he has customers in there, remember he goes by Trey now.”

“Right.” Trey Delphinus. Once the light of my life, now a pain in my backside.

“Ready?”

I squared my shoulders, straightened my new Walmart power red blouse over my dark blue jeans, and put one sandaled foot in front of the other. The same way I’d get through this meeting. One step at a time.

The bell over the ornately carved door tinkled when Saber shoved it open, but the sound faded as I was embraced by the soothing shades of beach sand, ocean blue, and polished wood. On my right, L-shaped antique glass display cases offered coins and jewelry, fans and snuffboxes, and much more. To the right and straight ahead, rough-hewn tables displayed vignettes of everything from weaponry to housewares. Art-gallery lighting picked up the rich hues and textures where the natural light from the large picture windows didn’t reach.

The effect was stunning but not terribly surprising. Triton had been finding treasure in shipwrecks and dragging it back from the deep since 1795 when he was sixteen and had begun shape-shifting into dolphin form. He’d given me a few trinkets, but even then he’d dreamed of building a business selling his finds.

He’d also since become a dive master and had worked shipwreck recovery here and there. I knew that from the research Saber and I had done, and it was a smart move on Triton’s part. Fewer questions about how he’d accumulated so many artifacts, fewer questions about the provenance of his treasures. Oh, Triton had diversified his business interests over the years, but it made sense that authentic sea treasures were his first love.

A faint chime drew my attention to the back wall where part of a small-ship’s bow jutted into the room. The two tones of satiny wood shone like milk and dark chocolate, and the furniture nearby was staged to resemble the interior of a captain’s quarters—much like my father’s quarters had been on his favorite ship.

Then I saw Triton, rising from a barrel chair.

“Cesca, Saber,” he said as he strode toward us. “Good to see you.”

The men shook hands, all cordial and normal.

I stood very still, braced for an emotional riptide.

One that didn’t come. No churning of angst or anger. No wave of lost-love regret. Only a ripple of nostalgic tenderness fluttered in my chest. As I stared, the image of Triton the youth in his homespun work clothes overlaid that of Triton the man in his charcoal suit and white shirt.

He’d always been model handsome in face and physique, but he’d grown a man’s body. Taller than I remembered, Triton’s swimmer’s shoulders were wider, his chest deeper. His rugged features, so like his adoptive Greek father’s, had lost their sharpest angles. I knew him to be a year older than I, but only a few fine lines around his cocoa brown eyes and perhaps a hint of silver in his tobacco brown hair aged him. Of course, the suit matured him, too, but as boy and man, the guy was a timeless hunk and a half.

Funny. I’d known Triton since we were toddlers. We’d shared a telepathic connection and more adventures than I could count, and he’d been my first crush. Even when he made his “let’s be friends” feelings clear, I’d still loved him. All that time, and I’d never pictured Triton in a suit and tie.

“I had a meeting today, Cesca.”

My gaze shot up from his tie to his cocoa brown eyes.

“What?”

“That’s why I’m wearing a suit today.”

“You read my thoughts?”