Uno.

A Chapter by Evie May

In which Roman gets an uninvited guest and Stela is sick.

“You’ve redecorated,” Christabel purred, arching a dark eyebrow. “But I can’t say I like it very much.” She gazed around the candle-lit room, the glass of scotch clasped between her fingertips cooling further in her grip.

“You didn’t like the Victorian era, either,” Roman replied, eyeing the vampire with a caution he’d learned to associate with Christabel.

“And like everything human, it didn’t last,” she said with a sly smile. She sipped absently at the scotch.

“Bell,” Roman began thoughtfully, “I hope you don’t mind me asking but... why exactly are you here?”

“Aren’t you happy to see me?” Christabel asked, eyes narrowing playfully. Roman just smiled blandly. “Fine. I’ll tell you, though I was so hoping we could pick up where we left off last time.” She paused and ran her tongue across her sharp teeth but Roman was unmoved. “Soren has found the pack you were searching for.”

Roman leaned forwards, a flash of interest passing his face. His expression was controlled a moment later. “The Willems?” he asked and Christabel nodded impetuously, letting loose a sigh.

“I don’t see what’s so important about them,” she complained. “They’re just scrawny mutts. Hardly any meat on the younger one.” She fell silent, contemplating what Roman imagined was how she’d like to kill the werewolf. Christabel often had daydreams of violence. It was the fantasy world she escaped into; a sick, nauseating one that Roman got enough of in real life.

Roman stood up and moved to the bookshelf. He pulled an old photo album off a middle shelf and opened it, showing it to Christabel.

“This was taken in 1859,” Roman said, pointing to an old photograph of a group of people in the very study were in now.

“That’s you,” Christabel said, spotting the handsome man standing ramrod straight, facing the camera with his head tilted up proudly. Christabel smiled slowly and looked up at Roman, telling herself he hadn’t changed much.

“And this,” Roman went on, pointing to an older man standing close to him in the photo, “is Lorenzo, my old master. He made an alliance with a werewolf pack, the first of its kind. I consider myself blessed to have been there.”

“What is the point of this?” Christabel asked impatiently. Roman rolled his eyes skywards and placed the album in the vampire’s lap.

“The pack Lorenzo made this alliance with, are the ancestors of the werewolves I asked you to find for me. The Willems sisters are the last of their kind.”

“The last of the werewolves? I find that preposterous, Roman. Even on my way here I caught the scent of two solitary wolves. Both stupid as rocks but still-”

“They are the last of a dying breed,” Roman interrupted her, frowning slightly. “Most of the werewolves today are all weak and out of control but the Willems... they’ve retained skill past down from their parents and grandparents and great-grandparents. There’s a rich lineage in the Willems family. I intend on making an alliance like my master did all those years ago.”

- - -

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Stela sat on the couch in her apartment, holding a hot cup of cocoa in her cold hands. She shivered and wished her sister hadn’t left for work without fixing the heating.

She contemplated calling Cordelia to ask her to come home, and maybe bring some cough drops with her. Stela hated being sick, but she hated asking her sister for help even more.

She put her cocoa on the table, wrapped her blanket tighter around her shoulders and padded into the kitchen, raiding the cupboards for some kind of cold medicine. Her and Cordelia never got sick (interesting, considering Stela had suddenly come down with the flu) so there was absolutely nothing helpful in their apartment.

Frowning, Stela kicked the cupboard door and sneezed, simultaneously. She groaned, hauling herself back to the couch where she dropped down and tugged her blanket up over her head.

She decided to figure out how she’d gotten sick, who she’d caught the bug from (so she could find them and hurt them). Traipsing through her memories, she plucked a thought from her mind and sighed, wondering if she could blame the man who sat next to her on the bus a few days ago. He was just a guy in a suit who’d coughed once and hadn’t covered his mouth.

Stela had never been this susceptible to illnesses. The last time she’d gotten sick, she’d been a child, feverish and delirious for days.

She was about to carry herself off to bed again when a knock came at the apartment door. Stela got up, stumbling over to open the door.

“You look like crap,” Jenny said, raising her eyebrows when she saw the state her friend was in.

“I feel like crap,” Stela retorted. She let her in to the apartment and dropped back onto the couch, unwilling to be a good host when she was both burning up and freezing.

“I brought provisions,” Jenny chirped, sitting down in an armchair. She dug into her bag, pulling out two boxes of tissues, a couple bottles of cool water and some fruit juice along with a handful of gossip magazines.

Stela smiled and took a magazine, halfheartedly flipping through it. “Thanks Jen,” she said gratefully.

“You’re welcome.” Jenny beamed. Stela opened one of the bottles of water and sipped from it, thankful for the relief it gave her raw, pained throat. “I should get back to work, though or Codi is gonna have my head.”

“Tell her I’m dying,” Stela replied. “Cordelia was so close to dragging me to work tonight.’

Jenny laughed softly and stood up, taking the wastepaper basket from Stela’s bedroom. She placed it beside the couch Stela was lying on so she could use it for discarded tissues. Stela sighed and bunched her blanket up around her chin. The girl looked awful; she was pale and shivering, her hair knotted and pulled into a messy ponytail. After knowing Stela for so long, Jenny had become used to seeing her energetic and made up, wearing pretty dresses and colourful leggings with high heeled shoes.

“I’ll tell her,” Jenny said, chuckling. She fussed over Stela for a moment longer before leaving the apartment, letting Stela fall into a fitful sleep.
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- - -

At Tangerine, Cordelia Willems was pouring drinks for a crowd of college students who’d come in for a night of debauchery. Cordelia shook her dark hair out of her face with a toss of her head.

She glanced up when a man sat at the end of the bar, away from the hustle and bustle around the pool table where two students were playing for cash. The man at the bar was handsome, a sly grin curving his lips. He gestured for Cordelia, raising his hand and flicking his fingers in her direction.

Cordelia skilfully poured a row of shots and left them for Jenny to distribute. The girl had been flirting with most of the males in the bar and there was no shortage of men who flirted back. Jenny was a pretty girl with a seductive stare. She was also a great bartender; one Cordelia had come to appreciate for her skill with people.

“What can I get you?” Cordelia asked the mystery man. Most of the people who came to drink at Tangerine were locals and she had a great memory for faces.

The man tapped his chin thoughtfully, eyeing Cordelia hungrily. “When do you get off work?” he questioned smoothly and Cordelia laughed.

“I’m not on the menu,” she replied.

“That’s a shame,” he said and Cordelia felt a shudder climb up her spine as his dark eyes panned up and down her body. She suddenly felt uncomfortable. For all his good looks, this man was predatory. “I’ll just take a beer, then.”

Cordelia nodded and silently filled a mug with foamy beer. She passed it to the man without a word but he kept his eyes on her, a ghost of a smile making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

“You okay?” Jenny asked her, noticing the way Cordelia was frowning, lips pulled into a grim line.

“Yeah,” Cordelia said then paused. “Actually, I’m gonna take my break. You can handle the crowd on your own, right?”

“Not a problem,” Jenny said with a wide smile.

Cordelia slipped out from behind the bar and disappeared into the back room. She opened the window above the couch and lit a cigarette, taking a much needed hit of nicotine. She blew smoke out of her mouth and glanced down into the alley beneath the window.

She pulled back, heart beating hard and fast at the shock he’d given her. The man from the bar was standing there, looking up at Cordelia, leaning against the alley wall.

Cordelia shut the window, latching it quickly. She ran her tongue over her dry lips and put out her cigarette in an ashtray. She knew that if she told Jenny about the guy, she’d want to call security but Cordelia could handle it herself.

After a few moments, she went back to work with an exuberant smile on her face. The strange man was nowhere to be seen for the rest of the night.

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