Chapter 4
1210words
"I'll say it one more time," she hissed, "you cannot walk into Starbucks dressed like that."
"Why not?" Alaric examined his outfit. "Ashford men wear proper attire when attending formal engagements."
"This is Starbucks, not a royal coronation!" Cathy exclaimed. "Look around—who wears a pocket watch chain in public anymore?"
Alaric surveyed the passersby in their t-shirts and jeans, some wearing nothing more formal than flip-flops.
"These people..." he frowned deeply, "have no self-respect."
"Dude, it's called casual fashion," Cathy massaged her temples. "Whatever, we're out of time. Let's just go with it."
She dragged Alaric toward the Starbucks.
Alaric's voice resonated in her mind: "You're extremely tense."
"No shit!" Cathy mentally shouted back. "Your life is on the line after tonight, and I'm magically bound to you. How was I supposed to know I'd get dragged into vampire politics!"
"She won't act in public," Alaric assured her. "Too many witnesses."
"Then what's her game?"
"Testing boundaries." Alaric paused. "Or more likely, recruitment."
Cathy pushed through the Starbucks door.
Cool air washed over her face. The café was sparsely populated, with Seraphina perched elegantly in a corner, wearing a cream-colored dress, scrolling through her phone.
"Cathy!" Seraphina looked up and waved. "Over here!"
Cathy approached reluctantly.
"You came." Seraphina smiled and rose gracefully. "And you brought cousin dearest—what a delightful surprise. Shall we order something?"
"That won't be necessary." Alaric replied stiffly.
"Don't be so rigid." Seraphina hooked her arm through Cathy's, pulling her toward the counter. "Come along, Cathy, let's get something refreshing."
Cathy found herself dragged to the counter, Alaric trailing behind them.
"Hi there! What can I get for you today?" the barista asked cheerfully.
"I'll take an Americano," Seraphina said. "Cathy, what would you like?"
"Um, just a latte," Cathy mumbled.
The barista turned to Alaric. "And for you, sir?"
Alaric stared at the menu board, his brow furrowed in concentration.
"Venti, grande, tall..." he muttered. "Where is the small option?"
"Tall is our smallest size," the barista explained patiently.
"Then why call it 'tall'?" Alaric asked with grave seriousness. "If it's the smallest, logic dictates it should be called 'small.'"
The barista blinked in confusion.
Cathy mentally screamed: "Dude, can you NOT be a pedantic ass right now?!"
"It's marketing psychology," Seraphina explained with a patronizing smile. "It prevents customers from feeling they've chosen the smallest option. Modern business tactics, cousin—you should study them."
Alaric fell silent for a moment.
"I'll take..." he pointed decisively at the menu. "Espresso."
"Perfect," the barista nodded. "Would you like sugar with that?"
"I require no sugar," Alaric stated gravely.
"Cream or milk?"
"Neither."
"Anything else for you today?"
Alaric considered briefly: "I require blood."
The barista's smile faltered.
Cathy lunged forward: "He's kidding! He means a blood orange refresher! The seasonal drink!"
"I'm sorry, that was a limited-time offering..."
"Never mind then!" Cathy cut in, yanking Alaric away. "Thanks anyway!"
Seraphina trembled with barely contained laughter behind them.
They took their seats, and while waiting for their drinks, Seraphina crossed her legs elegantly and studied Alaric.
"Cousin, how long has it been since you've ventured into society?" she inquired.
"That's hardly your concern," Alaric replied coldly.
"Don't be so frigid," Seraphina chided playfully. "We're family, after all. Besides..."
She paused, shifting her gaze to Cathy.
"Now we share a mutual friend."
Cathy felt ice crawl down her spine.
"Cathy," Seraphina leaned forward slightly. "Did you review my questions from yesterday?"
"I did," Cathy replied, fighting to keep her voice steady.
"And are you willing to assist me?" Seraphina asked, her smile predatory.
Cathy remained silent.
"Incidentally," Seraphina added casually, "you accepted payment from my cousin, didn't you? One hundred thousand pounds—quite substantial."
Cathy stiffened.
"How could you possibly..."
"Of course I know." Seraphina's smile widened. "I can also sense the blood covenant between you."
She leaned closer to Cathy, dropping her voice to a whisper: "Vampire money comes with strings attached."
Cathy's heart constricted.
"What are you implying?"
Seraphina glanced pointedly at Alaric.
"You've already exchanged blood, haven't you?"
The color drained from Cathy's face.
"I—"
"Don't fret." Seraphina smiled reassuringly, patting Cathy's hand. "I'm not here to hurt you. Quite the opposite—I'm here to help."
"Help me?"
"Indeed." Seraphina extracted an elegant document from her purse. "That money established a binding contract between you. The blood exchange merely enabled you to survive its effects. Weren't you dreadfully weak before the exchange? I can help you terminate this contract—you keep the money and walk away free."
She slid the document across the table.
"All I need is your help answering these questions."
Cathy stared at the document, her hands shaking.
"Don't believe her." Alaric's voice warned in her mind. "She's manipulating you."
"But is she telling the truth?" Cathy questioned mentally. "Was the money really a binding contract?"
Alaric hesitated.
"Yes," he finally admitted. "But understand this—I didn't realize modern humans had grown so fragile they couldn't withstand even basic contractual energy. That's why I—"
"So you exchanged blood with me," Cathy thought bitterly. "You should have been honest from the start. Now I don't know if I can trust you at all."
Cathy felt utterly trapped. Had she known the complications, she'd never have taken the money. But regardless of Alaric's initial intentions, she'd become his vulnerability.
Cathy raised her eyes to meet Seraphina's gaze.
"What if I refuse?"
"Then you'll remain eternally bound as his contractor," Seraphina's smile turned cruel. "And by controlling you, I control him."
Cathy bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.
The café door suddenly swung open.
Claude strode in.
Clad in a black trench coat, right hand buried in his pocket, he marched directly toward their table.
"Cathy," he commanded, looming over the table. "Come with me. Now."
The atmosphere crystallized into tension.
Seraphina tilted her head, regarding Claude with predatory interest.
"Well, well. If it isn't the editor," she purred. "What a fortuitous coincidence."
"Not coincidence," Claude replied icily. "I tracked you here."
He glared at Alaric, undisguised revulsion in his eyes.
"You don't belong here," he spat. "And you have no right dragging innocents into your world."
"Innocent?" Alaric rose to his feet. "She was never innocent in this matter."
"She's just a writer!" Claude's voice rose sharply. "She knows nothing of your kind!"
"She knows far more than you realize," Seraphina interjected smoothly. "And Mr. Qin, despite your obvious affection for her, surely you haven't forgotten our arrangement?"
Claude's hand emerged from his pocket, gripping a silver dagger.
Other patrons began noticing the confrontation, some edging toward the exit.
"Cathy," Claude said grimly. "Final chance. Come with me now, or I'll leave you to Seraphina's tender mercies—and you'll die alongside him."
Cathy stared at the three figures surrounding her, feeling trapped in some bizarre theatrical production.
Christ, she'd never suspected her editor harbored feelings for her, and now two vampires from her fiction had materialized in her reality?
But Alaric had paid her handsomely, and she couldn't justify abandoning their agreement.
Cathy drew a deep breath.
"I—"
Before she could finish, every light in the café abruptly went dark.
