"Punishing you," he said with a nod.
"Yeah, but hell, I don't know what they have to be angry about. They're the selfish twits who couldn't last two months alone with Mother and dragged her over here. Now they all might be moving here. Plus Dad," she added as an afterthought. "Although, I don't mind Dad. He's great, and Mother behaves a little better when he's around. Problem is he's always off running his 'empire.'"
"Hmm," G.G. murmured. "So you moved here to get away from your mother, and now she's moving here."
"Worse than that, Mother told Mortimer this morning that she was going to be a hunter and work with me. I'll have her hovering over me all damned night every night."
"Wait, wait, wait," G.G. said with confusion. "Lissianna said you got a position at the university, teaching criminology."
"I did," she said on a sigh. "But it doesn't start until the summer and, even then, it's a part-time gig. I've been volunteering at the Enforcer house, helping to sort through all the tips they get to see what might be real threats and what aren't. I wanted to see if I like it, and if I do, maybe I can work there officially in the future. At least part-time. And I do like it. At least I did, but now . . ."
"But now if you do work for the enforcers, you'll have your mother working with you," he said with understanding.
"Yeah," Elspeth sighed the word and then shook her head. "It's my own fault. I should have headed back to the Enforcer house when I got stabbed this morning rather than go home. She never would have known I was working for them if I had," she said, and then frowned and argued her own point, "But it's not like I knew they were at the apartment, so why would I?"
"Wait, wait, wait," G.G. said with amazement. "You got stabbed this morning?"
Grimacing, Elspeth nodded. "I stopped to check out a soft call on my way home and a mortal stabbed me in the back and slashed my leg."
Much to her amazement that made him throw back his head and laugh loudly.
Elspeth stared at him wide-eyed, noting a little absently how the green strands of his Mohawk caught the bar lights as his head bobbed with laughter. Finally, she scowled and asked, "What's so funny about my getting stabbed?"
"Oh," he gasped, and shook his head. Making an obvious effort to control his amusement, he waved his hand and finally got out, "No, not your getting stabbed. That's not funny at all, but the fact that you got stabbed this morning and didn't include it as part of why today was your worst day ever is."
Elspeth blinked, and then sagged where she sat as she understood. He was right. She hadn't even considered the stabbing as part of her rough day. In comparison to the appearance of her mother in her new home, getting stabbed was like a pesky paper cut. Frankly, she'd rather be stabbed every day of her life than have her mother back ruling her.
"I knew that was blood on your car seat."
Elspeth swiveled sharply and gaped at the man standing beside her. Wyatt. How the heck had he snuck up on them like that? They should have heard the door open at the very least. Well, unless he entered while G.G. was laughing so uproariously at her misadventures. He must have, she realized and asked, "What are you doing here?"
"Forget that," he said, waving his hand impatiently. "You were stabbed this morning?"
Elspeth gaped at him briefly, and then sighed and narrowed her gaze as she concentrated on sending her thoughts out to search his mind, take control and--Whoa! What the hell? Her thoughts were crashing up against a black wall of nothing. Mouth tightening, she redoubled her efforts with the same results.
"Elspeth?" Wyatt said, frowning now as well. "Answer me. Were you stabbed this morning?"
"It was nothing," she muttered and slipped off her stool. Mortals weren't really welcome at the Night Club. She had to get him out of there. Casting a regretful glance at her drink, she picked up her wallet and quickly pulled out money, saying, "Thanks, G.G. We'll go now."
"Finish your drink," both men said at once, and Elspeth glanced from one to the other with surprise. G.G. was looking stern and insistent. He knew she needed the blood and felt she should drink it before she left. Wyatt just looked kind of annoyed. She had no idea why.
"Finish it," Wyatt repeated. "You had to rush off to have it, so finish it. In fact, I'll have a drink too. A beer," he decided, settling on the neighboring stool. "Because I want to hear about this getting stabbed business where Gran can't overhear and be upset."
Elspeth hesitated, but then said, "Fine. But we'll have to go somewhere else. The club isn't open yet. Besides, they don't serve alcohol here."
"What? A Night Club that doesn't serve alcohol?" he asked with open disbelief.
"Night Club is just the name," she said on a sigh. "It's not a real nightclub. At least, not like your normal nightclub. It's more like a coffee shop. A place where people can gather, relax, and drink . . ."
"Power drinks," G.G. said when she floundered.
"Power drinks," Wyatt echoed with disbelief and shook his head. "A night club that serves power drinks instead of alcohol."
"Yes," Elspeth said, casting G.G. a grateful look.
"Damn hipsters are ruining everything," Wyatt muttered, and then glanced at her glass. "What's that then? I thought it must be a bloody Mary, but the color isn't quite right and if they only serve power drinks, it--"
"It's beet juice, tomatoes, kale, spinach, kelp and a bunch of other disgusting things I wouldn't drink if you paid me," G.G. lied glibly, interrupting him.
"You just sling the drinks and don't consume them yourself, huh?" Wyatt asked with amusement, his mood suddenly lightening . . . although, she wasn't sure why. Had he worried his grandmother had rented to a lush?
"Pretty much," G.G. said solemnly. "Elspeth's right, we aren't open yet, but she needs a few more power drinks to help her heal, so I'll mix you up a power drink too if you like. Or I keep some soft drinks here for myself. Some Coke, Ginger ale, maybe some Root beer. What'll it be? A power drink or--?"
"A Coke," Wyatt said firmly. "Thanks."
Nodding, G.G. grabbed a glass, threw some ice in it and then retrieved a can of Coke from the refrigerator under the counter and poured it as he carried it back to them. He set it in front of Wyatt, and then nodded at Elspeth's drink.
"Knock it back and I'll get you another, Elspeth. You obviously lost a lot of blood this morning and need it," he said, his tone brooking no argument.
Grimacing, she did as he instructed. The moment she set the empty glass down, G.G. whisked it away and moved off to prepare another . . . at the other end of the bar. He was being careful that Wyatt not see what he was working with, she realized and glanced nervously toward the windows to see that the day was waning, but slowly. Still, other immortals would start arriving the moment the sun was gone and then Wyatt's presence would be a problem.
"Who stabbed you and where?"
Wyatt's question drew her attention back to him and she grimaced. "It was during work. I was checking out a tip and encountered a mentally ill man. He attacked his wife and then stabbed me when I rushed to help her."
"I meant where on your person were you stabbed?" he said grimly. "There was blood on your car seat."
"Oh." She grimaced, but admitted, "He stabbed me in the lower left side of my back, and slashed my left leg."
His gaze immediately slid to her side, but of course he couldn't see anything through her clothes and jacket. Even if she'd been sitting there naked there wouldn't have been much to see. When she'd got up that evening the wound had healed to the point that it was a large, dark, ugly scar. She'd needed more blood for the healing to continue. Elspeth could feel it happening again now that she'd had more blood. It was like someone was repeatedly jabbing her with a handful of needles in the spot. Most unpleasant, and she was holding herself very still to try to keep from flinching or otherwise give away that she was in pain.
"And you aren't in the hospital because . . . ?" he asked dryly.
"Because it was just a flesh wound, a scratch really," she lied. Actually, it had been pretty ba
d. Were she mortal she would have bled out within minutes. Fortunately, she wasn't mortal.
Elspeth glanced at Wyatt and saw that he was shaking his head. Scowling, she asked, "What?"
"I didn't realize your job was so dangerous," he admitted, his gaze on his glass as he turned it on the counter top. "Gran made it sound like your position was mostly analytical. A desk job."
"It is." Elspeth said, and glanced toward G.G. wishing he'd hurry. The sooner she finished this next drink, the sooner she could get Wyatt out of there. It would have been easier if she could have slipped into his thoughts, rearranged them, and sent him back to his grandmother's without recalling any of this, though. The thought made her turn to peer at him again to try to do just that. Nothing. She just kept coming up against a black wall of nothing. Either the man was brain dead, or--