Chapter Two: Dinner Guests

The phone rang as if saying her thoughts were incorrect. She picked it up and looked at the caller ID. Scott O’Riley was calling. Pushing the talk button she answered it with a simple, “Hello?”

“Hey Haven!” responded Scott, his voice light and pleasant, as always, strange for a forensic specialist. You would think someone working with gruesome and grisly deaths shouldn’t be morbid, but not he. Scott was always cheerful and happy, even elbow deep in rotting human flesh. Sometimes it seemed creepy to her, other times it helped her through the daily grind. “Hello, Haven are you there?” Scott said clearly confused by the long pause.

“Sorry,” she mumbled quickly, “zoned out a little there. Hey Scott what’s up?” She rubbed her temple with the back of her hand and stared at her left foot which needed a fresh coat of red nail polish.

“Nothing really, I just haven’t seen you for a couple days since you’ve been hunting rather than investigating.” He laughed whole heartedly. Haven couldn’t help but smile.

“You miss me?” she said sarcasm thick in her voice.

“Yes.” He said simply, honestly. That was the other thing she liked about Scott, he was straight forward. Always telling you what he needed to say, whole heartedly honest as well. Probably a side effect of his profession. There is no way to beat around the bush whilst trying to explain how the chemicals in the tub turned the body into soup.

“Oh.” She said looking to the side. “Well I’m sorry.” She mumbled.

“It’s fine, you can make it up to me by coming to dinner with me tonight.” She could almost hear the smile on the other end of the line.

“I don’t really go out to eat,” a smirk playing at the edges of her lips.

“Well then we can eat in at your place, how nice of you to invite me over and cook for me.” He said with the same whole hearted laugh.

“I didn’t,” a frown creasing her forehead, her brows pulling together, “but I guess that’s fine.” She looked at the clock on the nightstand. “When do you plan on getting here?” she asked him after clearing her throat.

“Is seven fine?” he asked trying to hide his excitement, but failing miserably.

“That sounds perfect.” It really was perfect. It gave her just enough time to shower, get dressed and some food ready. “See you then I guess,” hesitation in her voice.

“You betcha’.” He said, the line going dead. She looked at the phone curiously before replacing it in its holder. She stood up and walked back into her bathroom to shower. Stripping her clothes hastily she turned the water on high and climbed inside. Her soap smelled of apricots and her shampoo like peaches. Once she was squeaky clean and had smooth, shaved legs she turned the water off, and got out of the shower. Pouring cold gel into her hand she sighed. It helped her hair curl neater, look less wild, more styled or synthetic. To apply, she simply ran her sticky fingers through the curls until they felt clean.

She pulled the blow dryer off of its hook on the wall and started drying her hair. Haven never sang while she showered though sometimes she would hum, now was one of those rare instances. Once her hair was decently dry, she stalked around to her closet and pulled a black silk shirt off a hanger as well as a pair of dark wash jeans out of the drawer. Finally she grabbed a pair of black lace underwear and a matching bra. After putting her clothes on, she ran a hand through her hair while looking in the full length mirror. Once she felt she could pass as pretty she escaped to her kitchen.

With fifteen minutes left, Haven grabbed a deep pot filled it with water and set it on the stove to boil with salt and olive oil. She grabbed two boxes of fettuccini and once the water was boiling she added that to the pot as well. Out of the fridge, a wedge of cheese, some butter, milk and cream were placed on the counter. She pulled her grater out of one of the cabinets. As she grated the cheese her doorbell rang.

Putting the cheese down and she looked up to see Scott standing there waving at her from behind the glass window pane set in her door. One corner of her mouth raised in a smile as she walked around the counter to open the door for him. She unlocked it and he stepped inside, stealing a soft kiss on the cheek. They were about the same size, he had maybe an inch or two on her, but he was definitely short for a grown man. They were the same age, twenty-four, a neat tidbit she had learned two weeks ago while they were drinking coffee on the steps of the court house.

His eyes sparkled with excitement as he noticed the cheese on the counter. “You’re making alfredo sauce?” he asked looking at her. “That’s my favorite pasta sauce.”

“No kidding? Huh, never would have guessed. Would you mind grating the rest of the cheese while I prepare the rest of the ingredients?” She smiled and walked over to the bowl on the counter to take out a clove of garlic. She smashed it on the table, peeled it, and started dicing. Scott watched her as he grated the cheese with bright eyes and a soft smile.

Haven looked up at him then furrowed her brow. “What?” she asked softly.

“Oh nothing, just watching you chop the garlic. You seem lost in it.” He laughed softly. “I heard you found the little vamp who had killed those people today.” He smiled at her.

She nodded slowly, “I did. Put the cheese into this pan for me please.” She smiled back at him as she handed the sauce pan over. He was handsome enough. His hair was thick and black as night it was long enough that she could tell it was wavy, not curly like hers, but it definitely wasn’t pin straight. His nose was pointier than hers and a little wider. His lips seemed too thin for his face though, maybe it was just because they were always pulled thin over his toothy grin. He was almost as pale as she was; they both seemed to glow in the dimming light.

Finally he caught her eye and she stared into the crystal blue abyss that hid behind the thick frames perched on the bridge of his nose. She felt her cheeks flush. “Should I put this on the burner and start melting it?” he asked softly.

“Um, no I have to add the milk and cream and garlic and pepper first.” She added the ingredients then motioned for him to put it on the stove to heat up and melt. Using a fork she drew a piece of pasta into her mouth checking to see if it was ready. It was. She turned the heat off and pulled a colander out from under the sink. As she emptied the pasta into it, draining the water, she felt his hands gently touch her shoulders.

“Why do you do that?” he asked her, his breath warm against her nape. “Every time I catch you looking at me, you get all business like, stressed out, and focus on something else.” His hands started massaging her shoulders gently, but she could feel the fair amount of strength he possessed in the tone muscles he sported.

“I don’t stare at you.” She said a little breathless. He was working hours of stress out of her shoulders, her arms and neck went limp. As her chin touched her chest she sighed softly. He got closer wrapping his arms around her waist.

“You do stare at me Haven. I’ve seen it. Don’t be embarrassed.”

“It’s not that I’m embarrassed … it’s that … it’s rude.” Scott turned her around in his arms and looked into her eyes.

“It isn’t rude when you’re staring at me because you like me; it’s rude if you stare at me because I’m freaky.” His eyes sparkled slightly in the light as she leaned forward and kissed him softly. His eyes closed, his lips were half parted, now with a touch of her lipstick on them, when she drew back. His breath came out in a shuddering sigh.

“I think I should be mixing the sauce.” She squeaked against his lips. His arms fell away so that Haven could slink miserably toward the stove.

“Will I be kicked out after dinner?” he asked softly looking down. He had loved Haven ever since he first laid eyes on her; she walked around the crime scene without squeamishness or fear. The problem was, he was afraid to move too fast. She was shy, disliked being close to people and hated telling them about her life. Like any good cop.

Haven looked up at the clock from the stove. “There’s supposed to be a storm, you should probably stay the night.” She answered without looking at him, the blush creeping back up her neck. Haven hadn’t been with anyone in two years. Scott had somehow weaseled his way into her home. She wasn’t sure if it was the loneliness, or just Scott’s warm presence, either way she wanted to end up in someone else’s arms tonight.

Scott took two plates down from the cabinet and put some of the pasta into it then brought them to her so she could pour the sauce over them. He placed them on the table and sat down in the seat next to hers. Haven looked up at him, down at the food, finally deciding to sit as well. She took a bite. It wasn’t bad. They didn’t say anything and the silence was so complete that Haven jumped as the door opened wide and Nelli strode in.

Nelli looked over at Scott then at Haven with one eyebrow raised. “I could smell the food from next door.” She said with a slight smile. “I figured you wouldn’t want to eat it alone, but I can see you already have company, so I will just take mine to go.” She walked over to the counter with her bowl already in her hands.

Nelli was one of the four assassins that lived on the block. Though usually they all worked solo, they had all worked together at one point or another. Sometimes you just need backup. Usually that was only on high profile cases with a monster that was really good. Of course, when the government calls in the wrong type of assassin, out of ignorance of what creature they were dealing with, they needed to call in a second that was more suited to the job.

Nelli for instance specialized in fire and explosives. You would be hard pressed to find her without a phosphorous grenade or flame thrower within arms reach. Her area seemed impractical to Haven, seeing as fire won’t destroy just the monster but probably everything else in a fair radius, but Nelli was the best and never caused too much damage.

Haven and Nelli had bonded while working together on a case where a whole pack of lycanthropes had gone rogue. In fact it was Nelli who had encouraged Haven to buy this house in the first place and move out of her tiny apartment.

It wasn’t surprising to Haven that Nelli came by for some dinner; the two ate together almost every night. Sometimes they even had breakfast together and would go for a jog afterwards. It’s nice to have a friend who understands what you do everyday and the effects it can have on your psyche.

As Nelli was leaving with a plate heaped high with pasta she called over her shoulder to Haven, “I saw Bly yesterday; he said you aren’t answering his phone calls.” She paused leaning against the door frame looking inquisitively at Haven. Haven nodded and shrugged. “Well, seeing as you are avoiding him, I’m not surprised that he’s standing on your back porch.”

With that her friend was gone and Haven let out an exasperated sigh. Why was the second oldest vampire in the city calling her? That’s not how informants were supposed to behave. She stood up with her plate and went over to the sink to wash it out.

“Scott,” she said calmly, “I’ll be right back if you want to head into the sitting room, there is a TV in there and some of my favorite movies. If you want to pick one feel free to do so. I have no idea what he wants or how long this will take. I’m sorry about all the interruptions.” She patted him gently on the shoulder and started out the door.

Sure enough, there sat Bly Purcell. He was well over a thousand years old and would have been a formidable Greek soldier had he not been enslaved by the natives in England, the classic Greek face with the almost symmetrical features that every Greek artist had tried to replicate but could hardly do justice to, the lean, hard, strong muscles that you could see rippling under tight clothing. He had a British accent, not unexpected because he had stayed there for the majority of his existence, but strange since most vampires liked to acclimate and lose accents.

He was a very soft spoken vampire. Extremely wise, and extremely powerful but Haven had found that he liked to downplay his power and his presence. Making himself as amicable and trustworthy as possible seemed to pride him, though his clothes and hair were extremely eccentric. Bly’s hair was the deepest shade of whine red. It did not look like a color that came naturally, but she wasn’t sure if he dyed it or it merely turned that dark due to not seeing the sun for so long. The Greek’s weren’t often red headed were they?

Today he wore a suit, not usual, she expected a baggy fit pair of cargo jeans and a t-shirt. You probably wouldn’t even say that a suit was eccentric, but the fact that the suit was lilac with pink paisley designs made it rather odd. It was totally unique and Haven was ever impressed with his gumption to wear things like that, out in public, without having to defend his sexuality. Even with the bright clothes and strange hair he oozed masculinity.

It wasn’t until Haven stepped down from the step, onto the wood of the porch, that he looked up from the ground. His forest green eyes were wide with panic. Haven was shocked by the unusual amount of emotion in them.

While her eyes were glued to his, trying to figure out what was upsetting him so badly that he didn’t shield from her, she tripped on a chair leg and fell into his lap face first. Her breath catching, she scrambled to get up, but her wrist gave out and down she tumbled again.

The first time she fell Bly wasn’t expecting it, but the second time he picked her up and set her straight, watching as she pulled her shirt down and blushed a deep crimson. His fangs sharpened and elongated involuntarily. He cleared his throat but stayed seated and lowered his head so that hopefully she wouldn’t notice. There was no way he would lose the ground he had gained with her.

He had spent years trying to get her to trust him enough to tell him where she lived and to feel that she could come to him for help with any problem. His problem was, she had been living in this house for almost a month and she had not told him about the move. Why wouldn’t she tell him that? He could think of no logical reasoning.

It wasn’t a case of hurt feelings, not really. It was this house specifically. He had been here, many times in his short time in America. This used to be the home of a psychopathic man who delighted in torturing vampires. He somehow lured every vampire in the city to his home. The ones he deemed sane could stay among the populous, those who didn’t pass his test were locked away for his twisted games later.

Bly didn’t have a problem with it, seeing as the vampires that crazy-pants locked away were dangerous to humans. Last year there was a rumor going around the city that crazy-pants had died and when he didn’t get his annual letter for sanity review from the man he had assumed this was the truth.

In reality, one of the vampires he had stowed away had gotten a hold of him and he himself had turned into a vampire. The man was obviously deranged to begin with, to put so many vampires behind bars, so when the change hit him, he was in denial.

Bly had heard this new rumor and that the man fought his new hunger and lost, slaughtering the servants he still had within his home. Bly himself had called in the onslaught after going to see how the man had faired. Haven had been the assassin on duty that day. She had put crazy-pants out of his misery two blocks away in the park where he had turned on the children playing. No doubt he had begged for the true and final death.

“I didn’t know that you had moved.” He said calmly still looking at her feet. She frowned slightly then nodded. He perceived the movement only by the perfume that bombarded his nose. Her sweet curls fanned it toward him mercilessly. He wiped his mouth and chewed the tip of his thumb before swiveling his eyes to stare at the stairs to the yard.

“Yeah I just moved in a few weeks ago, but I bought it a few months ago. I had to fix it up and do some reconstruction and renovation.” She frowned at his averted gaze. Bly had always looked her in the eye, that myth about vampires being able to entrance you, not true, at least not that she had found. She valued his valor.

“Cricket, did you know that there are possibly fifty vampires trapped in cells somewhere either on or beneath your property?” Bly said, and he reached out for Haven as her face turned paler than usual. She collapsed, the floor spinning up to meet her as darkness enveloped her.