Falling for Fangs

“Well, he didn’t know that,” Maxwell said instead, cursing internally. Why was he being such an asshole? And a coward, which was even worse, in his opinion. “It’s sweet that he cares for you like that.”

Chloe smiled, but she had a strange look like she didn’t entirely believe what he had told her. He could hardly blame her for that. “He’s an excellent brother,” she said instead. “Puts up with me pestering him about finding something more stable, but he’s making his dream work, so I guess I should be proud, huh?”

“Sounds like you care about him too,” Maxwell said, putting his hands in his pockets and looking around the room. It was a comfortable space, he thought. Pale, ashy floorboards and walls with a pleasing mix of brickwork and charcoal-painted plaster. He wasn’t quite so keen on the succulents lining one shelf, but he knew they were trendy these days.

“Oh, I do,” Chloe said. “I should probably tell him how grateful I am to have him. But you know how it is; we don’t say that mushy stuff to our siblings.”

And wow, that hit Maxwell like a golf club to the side of his head. He thought back to many, many years before, when he too had had a family. A brother who cared for him, wanted to protect him, look after him. A brother he had never told just how much he loved him because they were too caught up in ribbing and lively competition. If he could go back… Well, there was no use dwelling on that now.

“So, you’ve got some paperwork for me?”

“Oh, right,” Chloe said, her tone becoming businesslike once more. “I’ve got everything here,” she led him to the desk. “Please take a seat.”

Maxwell sank into a squashy black leather armchair, looking expectant.

“The owner is delighted,” Chloe said, opening a folder and putting a pile of documents in front of him. “He was convinced it was worth more than I thought he’d get for it. Of course, I couldn’t exactly tell him that you weren’t quite representative of my usual clients.”

“Well, I’m glad he’s happy,” Maxwell said, looking through the pile of paperwork. It seemed standard for a property transfer; he had signed enough of those in his long afterlife. “And it was worth it. For me, anyway. Even if I’m not here long, I want to be comfortable.”

“You’re not planning to stay in Crowley Lake?” Chloe looked up, surprise evident on her face.

“Well, no,” Maxwell said. “I needed a break from my usual scene in the States. But I can’t see myself settling in a small town. Not even one as pretty as this.”

Chloe didn’t say anything, busying herself with opening a drawer. “Let me get you a pen,” she said. “And once the wire transfer is complete, it’s all yours.” She handed him the pen and the brush of her fingers against his sent a wave of sparks shooting up Maxwell’s arm and through his body. Not curse sparks; not this time. Just the standard kind that a person – even an undead person – got when they were attracted to someone. Maxwell told himself very firmly to calm down because he wasn’t going to be doing anything about his body’s clear and definite interest in Chloe. There was this curse to sort out, and besides, she didn’t seem like the kind of woman who wanted a fling with a vampire, or anyone else for that matter.

“Thanks,” Maxwell said, signing his name at the places that Chloe had neatly tabbed with bright pink flags. “And once this is done, we’ll meet this witch of yours.”

“Hardly mine. I mean, it’s a small town. I’ve seen her around, but I don’t know her. But Jesse does, and if he thinks she can help, I’m sure she can.”

“You trust his judgement,” Maxwell said, looking up from the paperwork. “Even though you don’t approve of his choice of career?”

“On this kind of thing?” Chloe said. “Absolutely. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I worry about him sometimes. I’d love to see him with a steady paycheck and maybe an office, but I know he’s good at what he does.”

“Maybe you should tell him that,” Maxwell said quietly. This wasn’t his business, but somehow, he didn’t want Chloe to have the same regrets he had. “You probably think he knows, but it’s important to tell people how much you value them. While you can.”

Chloe looked taken aback, but she didn’t say anything. She just bit her lip (soft, pink, and deliciously full, Maxwell couldn’t help but notice). “You’re probably right,” she said after a moment. “He’ll laugh at me, but—”

“He might not,” Maxwell said. “And even if he does, it’s still important.”

Chloe looked like she would like to ask him if he was speaking from personal experience but seemed to deem it an inappropriate question for a client.

“Done,” Maxwell pushed the paperwork over to her. “And I’ve got the wire transfer ready; I just need to phone my bank.”

“Right,” Chloe said, shaking her head slightly as though forcing herself to concentrate on the matter at hand and not whether Maxwell might have regretted not saying more to a brother of his own. She was sharp. He had always thought of real estate as the profession of the socially skilled but mentally shallow, but Chloe certainly didn’t fit that mould. Nothing got past her, which made things more difficult for him. “Here are the details of Mr Picton’s account, if you’d like to make that call.”

The next fifteen minutes were tied up with a rather annoying phone call to Switzerland, where he was put on hold more times than seemed strictly necessary. He strongly suspected that the bank knew about his kind. They never asked too many questions about why the same person had held an account for more than a hundred years and hadn’t seemed to have aged at all.

Finally, Chloe turned her screen to show him a confirmation. “That’s come through now,” she said, clearly fighting to keep an excited grin from her face. “The Sanguis Estate is now yours.” She handed him a heavy set of keys. “Congratulations.”

“Well, that’s one thing sorted,” Maxwell said, as though he bought estates of that size every day. He probably did every decade, but Chloe didn’t need to know that. “Is it too early to walk up to this magic shop?”

“No, let’s go,” Chloe said, standing up and smoothing her skirt over her hips. Maxwell could be forgiven for being unable to take his eyes off her, surely? “I want to get this sorted, so I can put all of this crap behind me and focus on work.”

Maxwell didn’t have work to focus on – unless you counted occasionally calling his financial planner with a stock tip picked up in a nightclub. Still, he definitely agreed with getting this curse business behind him.

“I’m hoping this Tilly can just wave her hands, and it’s gone. That’s how it works, right?”

Maxwell coughed. “It can,” he said. “I’ll keep my fingers crossed.”

Somehow, he knew it wasn’t going to be quite that simple.