Immortal (28 page)

“For now?” Fin felt a flutter of hope.

“For now, at least,” she repeated.

He kissed her hard, fighting the feelings welling up inside him. Weren’t vampires supposed to be coldhearted? What he wouldn’t have given, at this moment, to have been just a little more coldhearted.

“Good-bye.” Elena pulled away from him and before he could speak again, she got into the car and closed the door.

As the car pulled away from the curb, he wished he had told her he loved her.

Fin was surprised to find Regan waiting for him, in the dark, on the front porch of their rental house.

“It work?” Regan asked.

Fin walked slowly up the sidewalk toward his brother, feeling like each of his feet weighed a ton. He wondered how long it had been since he slept, really slept. “It worked.”

Regan grinned. “That Kaleigh of ours, she’s pretty bright.”

“That she is,” Fin agreed, taking the steps one leaden foot at a time.

“Elena gone?” Regan scooted over on the top step, making room.

“Yup.”

“Sorry, bro.”

“Thanks.” As Fin went to turn to sit down, he noticed envelopes sticking up out of the mailbox attached to the wall near the door. “When was the last time you checked the mail?”

“I don’t know.” Regan shrugged. “A couple of days, probably.”

Fin grabbed a handful of envelopes, sales fliers, and assorted junk mail and sat down on the top step. As he dropped the mail into his lap, he noticed a beer bottle between them. “Please tell me—”

Regan snatched up the bottle and pushed it into Fin’s hand. “Please. It’s for you.” He reached to his side and came up with an open Coke can. “I figured either way things went, you’d need it when you got home.”

Fin twisted the top off and took a long drink. It tasted as good as any beer had ever tasted.

Regan looked at him more closely. “Lose your badge?”

“Yup.” Fin took another drink, thinking he might need another beer. Maybe two more. “Lost my tie, too.”

“I never trust a man wearing a tie, anyway.” Regan grabbed the mail off Fin’s lap, placed it in his own, and began to thumb through it. “So, you looking for a job?”

“Possibly.” Fin closed his eyes and leaned his head against the rusty stair rail.

“I might be hiring at the arcade.”

Fin chuckled.

The mail rustling stopped. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“What?” Fin opened his eyes.

“He did it.”

“Who did what?”

“Victor. He always said he wanted a little houseboat in the Keys.” He handed Fin a postcard.

On one side was a collage of pictures depicting a sunny, tropical paradise: palm trees, clear blue waters, sandy beaches. Across it were printed the words
Weather is here, wish you were beautiful
…

Fin flipped the card over. It was addressed to Regan. No return address. In pretty, feminine script it instructed,
Don’t close the arcade until Labor Day
.

Fin looked at Regan. Regan looked at Fin, and they both broke out in laughter. They laughed until tears ran down Fin’s cheeks: tears of joy, of sadness. He cried for what he had lost, but mostly for what he knew he still had.