Coleen: Forever (Waking Forever Series Book 5) Page 2

  Rachel frowned as she pulled the cork from the bottle of rye. “Fine. I’m happy for the company.”

  Coleen smiled. “Nice of you to say.”

  Sliding the full glass of whiskey toward Coleen, Rachel shrugged. “It’s true. You know as well as anyone there are only so many books, movies, and plays we can read and watch. In the end, it’s conversation and friends that see us through the centuries.”

  Coleen took a drink of the rye. She was getting the distinct feeling Rachel was managing her toward a point, but Coleen rarely let people off easy. If Rachel had something to say to her, she was going to have to work for it. “And?”

  “And it’s been awhile since Rayven died, and I haven’t heard of you taking any other companions, and maybe you’re lonely.” Rachel’s eye contact was relentless, her gaze leveled at Coleen.

  Coleen huffed, careful not to sound too insistent less her tone concede Rachel’s point. “Hardly. We’re built for solitary existences, and even if we don’t start that way, nearly three thousand years has given me plenty of time to get comfortable with me.”

  Rachel held her hand up in front of her. “Forget I suggested it.” Lifting her glass of rye, Rachel nodded. “Cheers.”

  Coleen’s eyes narrowed. She was disappointed Rachel was dropping the subject so easily. Part of her wanted her friend to push the issue, and as twisted as Coleen knew it was, force her to divulge her feelings.

  Years of me calculating and manipulating have left their mark. She won’t bully me for fear I would retaliate. Or she just doesn’t care. Coleen winced as the last thought shot through her head.

  Rachel hesitated mid-sip. “What is it?”

  Coleen took some comfort in genuine concern in Rachel’s voice. “I’ve enjoyed visiting with you.” Coleen put the empty glass down on the counter. She was beginning to annoy herself with the theatrics and exaggerated sentiment. “I’m going to head out, but call me when Sara returns and we can go have drinks.”

  “I will.” Rachel followed Coleen toward the front door. Standing with the door open, Rachel reached for Coleen’s hand. “There’s no shame in missing her.”

  Coleen squeezed Rachel’s hand. “Thank you.” Walking toward her car, Coleen chastised herself for being such a fool where Emma was concerned. As she drove through Rachel’s neighborhood, she realized how right her friend was. She was lonely, and Emma leaving only brought the loneliness into sharp focus for her.

  I need to take a companion.

  It was an easy enough assertion, but Coleen knew the realization of it was far more complicated. She had met and turned Rayven during the excesses of the early nineteen eighties. Rayven had been a regular fixture on the New York party scene, but like so many, no one actually knew her. When she disappeared there had been few inquiries.

  But it seemed now everyone was on some variation of social media. Coleen could hardly keep up with all of it, but evidently having a friend on Facebook was not the same as having a friend in the real world. Also, apparently one wanted to trend on Twitter, and a left swipe was a bad thing on something called Tindr.

  Coleen wasn’t a total technophobe. She did use the internet, and had an iPhone, but she wasn’t keen on posting photos to Instagram or building her following on Google+. Unfortunately, she was the exception. In the twenty first century, plucking someone up and turning them was likely to go viral if she wasn’t careful.

  Coleen tapped the gate access button on her steering wheel as she drove the Mercedes up her long driveway. Pulling into the garage, she gracefully exited the car, and pressed the remote to lock its doors. Walking into the kitchen entrance of her house, Coleen tossed her keys on the gray granite countertop.

  A small pink envelope sat propped up against a bottle of Basil Hayden whiskey. Coleen rolled her eyes as she plucked the envelope up, and tore it open with her index finger. The card inside was as pink as the envelope it came in, and Coleen struggled to decipher the text that was scribbled across the face of the card.

  Ms. Andrade – I hope you are okay. I have not seen you the last three times I was over to clean, but want you to know all is good with the house. Please know I am also available to go to the grocery for you. I noticed you do not have any food in the pantry or refrigerator. If you leave me a list I will get the groceries for you. Take care. Rosa

  Coleen tossed the card on the counter. After Rayven’s death, she had been forced to hire a maid to maintain a level of cleanliness throughout the house. Though basic bodily functions like using the toilet and eating human food were of no concern for Coleen, the surfaces, nooks, and crannies of the house managed to acquire a fair amount of dust.

  Coleen had no desire to live in the modern day equivalent of a dingy castle. She had taken refuge in such structures before, during the fourth and fifth centuries as Europe was being overrun with humans. The Great Migration had provided vampires ample supplies of food, but had brought the less civilized and more superstitious tribes of the Goths, Vandals, and eventually the Huns with it.

  Those were people who had still very much believed in vampires, and any other number of supernatural beings. They had not been easily fooled into thinking that a vampire was a human, and were among some of the first humans to actively hunt and destroy the species.

  Coleen, along with several of her brethren, had been living in a castle near the borders of what are now Romania and Hungary. The region was crawling with Huns, and law and order were no more. The majority of the landed gentry were in fact vampires, and the Huns took the opportunity to not only end hundreds of bloodlines, but to seize the vampires’ lands as their own.

  Now, looking around the pristine kitchen with every modern day amenity, Coleen was reminded of how far not only her kind had come, but humans as well. She could recall how humans used to wallow in their own filth, and cower in corners, fearful of the dark. She could not have imagined such a tragic species would unlock the science of their own existence, much less leave those dark corners for the far reaches of space.

  Glancing down at Rosa’s discarded note, Coleen was reminded of Emma. Her friend had recommended the agency. The doctor was fond of them because they used biodegradable cleansers, and planted one tree in North America for every new client. Coleen hardly cared about some silly marketing ploy, and could do without the friendly notes from Rosa, but she appreciated their thoroughness.

  Coleen walked through the kitchen and down the hall toward the library. Coleen sat down in a German Renaissance, wooden espresso colored chair behind a matching desk. She had acquired both the chair and the desk in Munich near the turn of the seventeenth century, and they were two of her favorite pieces. Frowning, she thought how out of place the open laptop looked on the otherwise majestic piece of furniture.

  Closing the lid of the laptop, Coleen leaned back in the chair, resting her elbow on its narrow wooden arm. She felt resentful that she should have to manage her needs and desires within the confines of a world she thought nearly void of any substantive value, in spite of its technology.

  Civilizations had come and gone in Coleen’s lifetime. Most had been done in by their own greed and pettiness. She had no doubt the world would continue to shift and change as it always had, but this particular segment of humanity was proving particularly vapid. She couldn’t imagine finding a human in this dreck that she would be interested in spending eternity with.

  Pushing up from the chair, Coleen began to pace. She didn’t actually believe that all of humanity was a monumental waste of space. And if she were honest with herself, she didn’t absolutely hate Ash, though technically she was a shifter now. The detective was intelligent, funny, and bold.

  Coleen poured herself a glass of sherry from the silver drink caddy adjacent to the desk. The spicy cherry notes wafted through the space, and Coleen grinned as she took a drink. It always helps if they’re beautiful.

  Ash was certainly that. Coleen’s fondness for the woman, in spite of her attitude demonstrating differently, was born from Ash’s complete
irreverence toward Coleen. The woman could not care less what, or who Coleen was. It only mattered what Coleen did.

  Coleen sat back down at the desk, and placed the small glass of sherry to the right of the laptop. It was ironic that she should be looking for a woman like the one who won Emma’s heart. Bringing up the laptop’s browser, Coleen considered her options. Online dating seemed exhausting, not to mention traceable. She abhorred clubs, and though it was a tried and true means of dating in the South, she refused to go to church.

  Finishing her glass of sherry, Coleen knew her approach would have to be untraditional, and she could only imagine, incredibly awkward.

  Chapter 2

  Coleen had circled the block in the north central part of San Antonio twice looking for a valet. It was nearly eleven o’clock at night, and the line outside Sparks Exchange, a local lesbian bar, was twenty deep.

  “Excuse me.” Coleen rolled the passenger window of her Mercedes down, and drew the attention of a twenty-something Hispanic woman wearing a baggy pair of jeans, and a white tank top.

  “What’s up?” The young woman sauntered over to the car.

  The musky scent of cheap men’s cologne, and even cheaper liquor flooded the car, and Coleen suspected she had just taken her last breath for the night.

  “Can you point me to the valet, please?”

  The woman cocked her head to the side, revealing an oversized, black, gauge bolt in her right ear. “There isn’t a valet. You have to park where you can.”

  Coleen frowned and scanned the street. “Everything is full. What do you suggest?”

  The woman leaned further into the car, and attempted a flirtatious wink that only made her look as if she had a nervous tic. “You could leave the keys with me, and I could park it for you.”

  Coleen managed a faint smile. “I wouldn’t dream of pulling you away from your friends.” Not waiting for the woman to respond, Coleen slowly drove away.

  Jesus wept. Is that what I’m in for? Coleen was on the verge of calling it quits when she saw a parking spot to her right. Quickly maneuvering her car into the narrow space, she grabbed her black leather handbag from the passenger seat, and exited the vehicle.

  Sparks sat on a narrow surface street with three other gay and lesbian bars, and one full-on dance club. Walking up to the narrow, nondescript building, Coleen focused on tuning out the blaring music emanating from the bar.

  The line outside the bar had dissipated some, and Coleen was only ten people back from the door as she surveyed her surroundings. The woman from earlier was gone, but her general look was replicated by several of the young women still waiting in line.

  Coleen had never understood the trend of wearing clothes that were too big. She also hadn’t imagined the ritual of ear stretching, which she had seen so pervasively fourteen hundred years ago during the Tang Dynasty, would have had a resurgence in suburban America.

  “You’re a bit over dressed.” A woman in her late fifties with cropped gray hair stepped into line behind Coleen. She was wearing a white dress shirt, purple bow tie, and a pair of black, pleated Dockers-style pants.

  “How’s that?” Coleen turned to face the woman.

  Holding her hands up in front of her, the woman smiled. “Don’t misunderstand. This place could use a little class.”

  Coleen hadn’t been sure what to wear. She had decided on a pair of boot cut gray slacks, black Manolo Blahnik heels, and a silk, electric blue, wrap-style blouse. She had pulled her long dark brown hair back in a loose knot at the base of her neck. “I think you mean to compliment me, or worse, you’re attempting to flirt. I assure you – you’ve failed on both counts.”

  Coleen turned toward the door just as the woman’s mouth dropped open in shock or embarrassment. It didn’t matter to Coleen which, as she handed the husky man at the door her driver’s license. He looked her up and down, and smiled before handing her identification back. “Have fun in there.”

  Coleen took her driver’s license, and walked past the man and into the congested bar. The entire establishment was barely the size of Coleen’s library. The wood paneling on the walls, along with the excessive number of alcohol themed neon signs that hung along them, gave the bar a dingy, surreal quality. Coleen couldn’t be sure, but she imagined this was what people meant when they talked about a dive bar.

  “Can I buy you a drink?” The older woman from the line outside was standing next to Coleen. “I think we got off on the wrong foot out there.”

  Coleen appreciated the woman’s courage in approaching her again, considering how abrupt Coleen had been with her. “No hard feelings, but I’ll pass on the drink.”

  The woman shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  Coleen made her way toward the bar at the back of the room, and stood near the farthest end. She was trying to make sense of a bar-back machine with a red label across it that read Jager Tap, and what the two green bottles attached to the top of it were, when she felt an elbow against her back.

  “Shit, I’m sorry about that.” A woman in her twenties with shoulder length blonde hair was attempting to stop a can of beer from overflowing onto the floor by sucking at the foam spilling out of it. “I didn’t get any on you, did I?”

  Coleen assessed the woman. She was attractive, and unlike some of her contemporaries, her dark jeans and teal colored polo shirt actually fit her. “No harm, but it looks like you could use another.”

  The woman’s eyes got wide, and a nervous grin crossed her lips. “I – ah, sure.”

  Coleen smiled, and reached for the can of beer. “I’ll take that off your hands.”

  The woman blushed. “Thanks.”

  Placing the can on the worn, wooden bar top, Coleen waved one of the bartenders over. “Can I get another one of these –” Coleen lifted the can and turned it so she could see the label. “Ah – Pork Slap Pale Ale, and a Glenlivet 18, please.”

  The bartender shook her head. “I’ve got Jack Daniels or Dewars.” Coleen physically bristled at the selections.

  “You should try the Pork Slap. It’s yummy.” The twenty-something had pushed up to the bar next to Coleen, and was smiling up at her eagerly.

  Coleen was loath to try anything that came in a pink can and had two pigs belly bumping on the label, but she figured, when in Rome. “That would be fine.”

  “Do you want a tab?” The bartender shouted over the noise of the crowded bar.

  “No. I’ll pay cash.” Coleen couldn’t imagine she would find someone on her first outing, but she didn’t want to risk a credit card being on file should she get lucky.

  “That’s really nice of you.” The twenty-something patted Coleen on the back. “How you are you not sweating like a pregnant nun in here?”

  Coleen had lived in the South long enough to grow accustomed to some of its residents’ more colorful colloquialisms, but this was a new one for her. “I haven’t heard that before.”

  The woman reached for her beer, and handed Coleen hers. “My grandmother used to say it.” She shrugged as she took a sip of the cold beer.

  “Your grandmother must have been a colorful woman.” Coleen handed the bartender a ten dollar bill, and resisting the curiosity to smell the beer, took a quick sip.

  Coleen had not had beer in nearly thirty years, and the last one she had tasted was an imperial stout, partly aged in Bourbon, Pinot Noir, and new oak barrels. It had tasted of molasses, licorice, and vanilla bean. In direct and horrifying contrast, Pork Slap tasted like a fermented gym sock.

  “Good, right?” The blonde asked eagerly.

  Managing to mask her wincing, Coleen nodded. “Lovely.”

  “I’m Caitlin.” She held out her hand.

  Coleen extended her own hand. “I’m Lisa.” It’s what the fake driver’s license she had presented at the front door said, and until she knew if she could trust Caitlin, it was the name she would be going by.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you seem a little too – dressed up for this place.” Caitlin
took another drink of her beer.

  “Is it that bad?” Coleen sat the beer down on the bar, unable to take another drink of the swill.

  Caitlin blushed again, and the surge of blood to the surface of her skin stirred the burning at the back of Coleen’s throat. She had hunted and fed in the Hill Country before she embarked on this adventure, but it had been a very long time since she was so utterly surrounded by human blood and heartbeats.

  Coleen wrapped her hand around Caitlin’s wrist. “Well?”

  The young woman’s heart was racing, and Coleen thought she might collapse before they even got through the perfunctory flirting. “N – no. You’re – I mean, I love the way you’re dressed.”

  Coleen stepped toward Caitlin, but was stopped when the woman who had offered to valet her car earlier forced her way between them.

  “Caitlin, what the fuck is this?!” The woman’s voice was raised and shrill.

  Caitlin stammered. “I – it’s okay, Alex – I spilled my drink and she bought me another one.”

  The incensed woman turned to Coleen. “You again?”

  Coleen took a step back. She wasn’t one to back down from a fight, but she didn’t see the point in getting in the middle of a lovers’ spat. “We’re done here.”

  Alex grabbed Coleen’s forearm. “When I say – that’s when we’re done here.”

  Coleen’s eyes flashed an iridescent blue as she looked down at Alex’s hand. “I cannot begin to tell you how terrible your decision making is.”

  Alex cocked her head to the side again. “Fuck that, and fuck you.”

  “Hey!” The bartender bellowed from behind the bar. “Not inside.”

  Alex grabbed for Coleen’s can of beer. Before she could throw the vile liquid in Coleen’s face, her wrist was snapped backwards, and the crushed can of beer lay foaming on the floor.

  “Ah! Shit!” Alex grabbed her fractured wrist, a piece of white bone protruding from just below her thumb.

  “Alex! Oh, my god, what –” Caitlin looked at Coleen. “What – what happened?”