Vamp

“Well, dear, he said yes. I look forward to meeting him. His name is Maxim Forsythe.” She smiles at me, then at my father. “He might be one of us with a name like that…”

The vibration from his name, along with a hit of his scent as we accelerate down the road, makes my cheeks burn, and I draw a deep breath, trying to steady the heat coursing through my body and gathering between my legs. The scent is fainter tonight than it has been, and I wonder if he’s already left for the party and what I’m picking up is simply his trail, but it doesn’t much matter. Either way, I’m struggling under the weight of it all.

“Seleme.” My father looks into the rear-view mirror at me, his eyes a deep gold flecked with red. “Are you all right?”

I fist the edge of the seat, trying to force some calm into my voice as I answer. “Yes. What is it, Papa?” The last thing I need is for him to worry about me more than he does already.

He swallows, and my mother reaches over, laying her hand on his shoulder and squeezing. “Let it go, dear.”

“What is it?” I ask again, looking from one to the other.

My father’s brow draws tight in the rear-view mirror as he continues. “There was another dead dove on the front doorstep this morning. I want you to curtail your evening runs outside the grounds.” He continues before I can object: “Just until we find out what’s going on, or we get past midnight on your birthday. I want you to take a leave of absence from the office, as well. I want you to stay in the house. After Friday, we will see, but until then we need to keep you safe.”

“No, absolutely not.” We’ve had this conversation several times in the last week, and I’m not about to back down now. “I will not be intimidated by some cryptic, centuries-old voodoo. I am fully capable of taking care of myself. And it could be coincidence. Maybe they are flying into the front door.” I look at my mother, who responds with a condescending sigh. “It’s possible! There was this story the other day, hundreds of birds flew into a wall in Charlotte at the NASCAR Hall of Fame. They showed it on the news. They just kept flying into the wall and dying. You never know.”

“Seleme.” My father’s voice deepens. “Indulge me. It’s just a few more days.”

“No. I have a deposition for the Whitehall negligent homicide pro-bono case to prepare, and I’m still putting together the appeal for Carolyn Gordon vs. the City of Flint. I’m the youngest attorney to ever present in front of the state supreme court, and I will not be less than one hundred-percent prepared. I will not put my own personal issues before my obligations. Whatever happens to me on Friday is going to happen with or without my help, and I intend to spend every day until then being me.”

I see his jaw set firm in the mirror, but we can both be equally stubborn, and I don’t intend to relent on this one.

I might have lived a sheltered life in the mansion for most of my twenty-one years, but that didn’t stop me getting my degree by the time I was seventeen, my JD by nineteen and becoming the youngest person ever to pass the bar in Michigan.

Sure, it’s easier to study when you only sleep an hour a night. And my ability to process information, like my senses, is preternaturally keen. But I still had to put in the effort.

“Okay, you two. You sound like a couple of ol’ coonhounds fighting over the same squirrel.” My mother glances between us. “We will figure this out. But for tonight, button it up. All the children and families look forward to this every year, and it is up to us to make them feel welcome and important. As they are. Let’s focus on the festivities. There is plenty of security at the venue for tonight, and we will leave directly from there and come home. So, for now…” She pauses, leaning over to kiss my father’s cheek before turning to me. “We will put a pin in it, okay?”

We both groan but nod, taking our sparring gloves off for now. After all, no direct threats have been made. No attempts to harm me have been made so it’s all just nervous speculation.

My father clears his throat as he takes a left onto Lake Shore Boulevard toward the old Israndia Estate where the evening’s party is to be held. He bought the place back in the twenties, when he first came to the US, but has allowed it to be used as a venue for community and charity events after the construction of the current estate where I grew up was complete.