“No problem. When do I start?”
“Tomorrow night. There’s a premier party at The Fairmont. I’ll send a briefing to your iPhone. Good luck.”
“Sounds good. Check in with you tomorrow.”
Yvette walked to the door, the prickling tension at her nape telling her Zane was following.
“I’m out of here,” Zane grumbled.
“Zane,” Gabriel warned, the single word heavy with reprimand.
“What?” Zane didn’t break his stride.
“Are my orders clear?”
With an answer more grunt than word, Zane stopped next to her and reached for the knob. Yvette was faster and opened the front door. Then she stopped in her tracks. There on the steps, a golden Labrador lay on his haunches. The moment he saw her, he rose and wagged his tail.
“Your dog?” Zane asked from over her shoulder.
“No. He’s been following me for four months. I don’t know what he wants.” It wasn’t entirely the truth. Yes, the dog had been following her ever since she and her colleagues had rescued Maya from the clutches of a rogue vampire several months earlier. What Yvette didn’t reveal was that she’d begun feeding the stray.
“Looks like he’s yours,” Zane observed.
Made sense. Ever since she’d let the dog into her house on Telegraph Hill, the beast really thought he belonged to her.
“What’s his name?” Zane continued undeterred, obviously enjoying her discomfort.
“Dog.” At hearing her say his name, the dog’s ears perked up and his tail went into overdrive. Damn, he even listened to her.
“Yep, definitely yours. Enjoy.” And Zane was gone, striding down the dark, deserted street and disappearing into the shadows.
Yvette looked at the dog, whose intelligent eyes seemed to ask her a question. He tilted his head and looked as if he smiled. Could dogs smile?
She caved in. “Fine, we’ll go home.”
Three
Yvette heard the flap of the doggie door slap against the wooden doorframe and opened her eyes. Installing the door so the dog could go into the garden whenever he pleased had been a blessing; however, it also was a curse. Now that stray really thought he belonged here. How she’d ever get rid of him, she really didn’t know. He’d even started barking at the mailman as if the poor postal employee was encroaching on his territory.
“Hey, dog,” she greeted him as he jumped on the bed. One thing she’d definitely not do was to give the beast a name. Once he had a name, he would never leave.
“Is it sunset yet?” It was an academic question; neither would the dog answer her, nor did she actually need him to. Her own body had already told her that the sun had set over the Pacific Ocean and it was time to get ready for her assignment.
Yvette stretched, then put her hands onto her head. As every night upon waking, the short, spiky haircut she showed to everybody was gone, replaced by long, dark tresses. During her restorative sleep, her hair grew back to the length it had been the day she was turned. At first, she’d kept her hair long, but over the years, she’d decided that she didn’t like the look anymore. She looked too female, too vulnerable.
She walked into her bathroom and picked up the scissors lying on the vanity. Even without a mirror, she’d learned over the years how to cut her hair. She took a bunch of it in her left hand, cutting with the scissors in her right. Instead of discarding the hair in the trash, she placed it in a plastic bag which was marked St. Jude’s Hospital—Cancer Department. Let somebody else have long hair. She didn’t care for it.
When the weight of her hair lifted from her head, she felt as if the pain of her past was lifting with it. It felt the same every time she woke. The long hair reminded her of her life as a human, of the husband who’d loved to bury his face in her long tresses when they’d made love. Robert. His face wasn’t as clear in her mind anymore as it had been in the first years after they’d separated. Almost fifty years had passed since. While her memory of his face had faded into the distance, the desire for a child hadn’t. Or rather what a child represented.
Yvette placed her hand on her flat stomach. While human, a life had grown in there, not just once, but twice. She’d felt like a woman then, a woman who could give her husband what he desired above all. During those brief months of her pregnancies, she’d felt loved, not just by her husband, but also by the child inside her.
Crazy. Yvette shook her head and continued cutting her hair. She’d been devastated when she’d lost the second baby, and Robert hadn’t been there to comfort her. He’d blamed her. For a year, she’d lived as if in a trance, taking whatever drug she could get her hands on. The numbness the drugs had produced had prevented her from taking her own life. But then, one night, she’d woken up in a stranger’s home, stoned out of her skull. He’d asked her if she wanted to live forever and enjoy sex without consequences. Sure, she’d joked, still riding on a drug high.