Mixed Feelings (Empathy in the PPNW Book 1) (11 page)

“
I
’ll hang here with Sonny,” Chloe said, patting my leg. “Do you need me
to pick an outfit for you?”

“I can dress myself,” I
protested, getting to my feet. Mel and Chloe exchanged a look that made me
reconsider ever speaking to either one of them again. “Shut up. Both of you.” I
pointed aggressively at Mel. “Does this café have food?”

“That is generally what a
café
serves, yes.
”

His snark only made me loathe
him more. “
You
’re buying me the biggest,
most delicious slice of cake they have.” I headed toward my room. Mel gave it a
beat, but spoke as I rounded the corner.

“
Don
’t worry, baby. Anything I put in your mouth is guaranteed to be huge.”

Chapter Nine

I sat across from Mel in the
Bouncing Bunny at a small rectangular table, my legs crossed in
a
way that might have been sexual. I’d conned Mel into
springing for twice the amount of cake he’d promised me by vowing not to tell
Chloe he’d done so. Turned out I hadn’t really needed two pieces, though that
wouldn’t stop me from eating both. The massive slices of red velvet cake with
cream cheese frosting could have fed a bevy of starving orphans, but they were
mine, all mine. I took another giant bite, made a sound that was most
definitely sexual, and closed my eyes.

Upon ope
ning them, I found Mel
leaning back toward a nearby shelf of condiments, utensils
,
and napkins, grabbing for a fork. This put him very close to an
attractive brunette who wasn’t a day under sixty and who looked at Mel
like
a cat might appraise a stupid dog trotting into its
territory. Noticing her—but apparently not her attitude toward
him—he gave an unsubtle wink. Even sitting so close to the action, I
couldn’t have told you exactly how she went from an angry feral to a purring
pussycat.

I
’d had the misfortune of knowing Mel for a whole year
and, since he’s not shy about his rakishness, I’d seen him work his magic
before. Today, though, the experience was different. Rather than wanting to vomit
from across the The Internets as he lured a patron up to his office, I found I
was intrigued
.
 
With the necklace keeping his emotions from assaulting
me, my empathy was finally able to pick up on the amount of raw arousal pumping
off the woman as they spoke quietly and closely. I did my best not to let it
affect me—even being turned on by Mel secondhand was unacceptable, and
the cake was sexy enough—but it was still an interesting experience.

It took him less than three
minutes to get her number and if either of them noticed the wedding ring on her
finger
,
I didn’t hear them mention
it. Though my head was mainly filled with the sounds of my contented chewing,
so who knows what I missed?

Mission accomplished,
Mel turned
back to the table, fork in hand. Sensing what
he wanted, I caught his eye and shook my head. To make things even clearer, I
stuffed another forkful of cake into my mouth, even though I hadn’t finished
the previous bite. I was halfway through the fudgy delight and there was no way
I was letting any of it go, not after losing so much sugar to the candy thief.
Mel reached toward the plate with his fork and I grunted, very un-ladylike.
Foolishly, he seemed to think my grunt was cute and non-threatening and went in
for a bite
.

So I jabbed him with the fork
and pulled the plate closer, swallowing and grunting at him again. The
attractive brunette turned to look at us; her eyes lingered on Mel, but she
spared a rude glare for me. I pointed my fork at her threateningly.

“
You can
’t have any of my cake,
either.”

Mel snorted,
turning
back to the woman with an apologetic look spread
across his gorgeous face.

“Forgive my friend. She was
raised by wolves.”

I considered the irony of his
words as the cougar got up to go. She dropped a hand on Mel’s shoulder,
whispered something lusty in his ear
,
and
then sashayed out the door.

“Mel, she’s twice your age,”
I managed around a mouthful of cake. He just watched me quietly, clearly
waiting for me to explain th
e
problem. I
’d
seen him go after all shapes, sizes, and ages of women but, despite watching
him drum up her interest, I was having a hard time believing he had a shot. “She
was wearing a wedding ring. She probably has kids your age and a husband.”

“
She
’s widowed,” he clarified.

“Your spidey sense tell you
that?”

“
Spider-Man
’s an amateur compared to me. I’m like Sherlock Holmes
when it comes to the fairer sex
.
”

“
You
’re a sloppy addict and you should quit cold turkey?”

Rather than addressing the
comment, Mel snaked in and stole a chunk of my cake. I carped at him but he
just smiled and rubbed his belly as if it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.
I pulled the plate as close as I could, wrapping my arm around it like I was
erecting a
hulking stone
wall to keep orcs out of
Helm
’
s Deep
.
After another bite, I waved away
the discussion with a flap of my fork and changed the subject. “Tell me about
vampires.”

Instantly
, Mel
’s demeanor changed. “
I
’d rather not. It isn’t something you want to know anything about.”

“Why not?”

“
Gwen,
”
he
sighed, oddly exasperated. It made me smile. I gave him a few seconds
to think while I ate more cake.

“Come on, give me something.
Anything.”

“I’ll give you something...”

“I don’t want that thing.
Having nothing’s better than having that thing.”

“You’re right, there is
nothing better than—”

“Vampires, Mel,” I ordered,
reaching over to jab his hand with my fork again. He chuckled, rubbing his
thumb over the indents I’d left in his skin. I found, as I watched him, that I
was actually enjoying myself. It might have been because I was eating delicious
pastry, but I think it was mostly the necklace.

“I know one. A vampire.”

“What’s he like?”

“Unpleasant.”

I snorted, shaking my head. “Come
on! I’ll buy you some cake if you stop beating around the bush.”

Rolling his eyes, Mel
quipped, “I can buy my own cake. And beat around my own bush.”

So help me,
I actually laughed. Around
another bite of cake, I asked,
 
“What’s
your friend’s name?”

“
Dirk.
”

I nearly choked. “
Dirk?
” I coughed suddenly, my body warring between wanting
to laugh and wanting to breathe.
Hoping
I wasn’t going to die, I
chewed and swallowed as fast as I could. “
Dirk
? Seriously?”

Mel sighed, leaning back in
his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

My mind exploded with vivid, darkly colored images of
a mysterious figure in skin-tight leather and crimson silk. Smoldering eyes
looked out of my imagination and into my very soul. What treasure trove of
nocturnal delights had I stumbled on by asking such questions?

“What's he like? Does he live in a mausoleum?” My
mouth ran on without my consent. “Sleep in a casket? Does he have pale skin and
a flouncy little cravat? Is his hair
perfect
? Does he brood? Is he chock
full of long-coated man-pain?
Does he dazzle you?
”

Mel was staring at me
askance, his brows drawn together over wide eyes. He was silent for a full
minute before he let out a long, irritated groan.

“
Mr. Somerset?
”

I twisted to face the voice
and found a couple standing behind us. I was surprised that I hadn’t felt their
grief and worry the second they’d walked in. It was heavy, cloudy like a summer
storm and a thick fog all at once. I wiped the smile off my face and set my
fork down. Mel got to his feet immediately, offering his hand.

“Mr. and Mrs. Morris, hello.
Please, have a seat. This is my associate, Gwen Arthur.” I smiled, unsure if I
should stand and shake or let them sit. It was a tight squeeze at the small
table, but we all managed it. Mel was the epitome of professionalism and I had
to do my best not to
gawk
at his serious demeanor. All
these new sides of Mel popping up were going to start giving me whiplash. He
asked if he could get them anything to drink or eat, then got straight to the
heart of things when they declined.

“Tell us about your daughter,
about what’
s happened.
”

Mrs. Morris looked to me, her
dark eyes slightly bloodshot, then nodded.

“Our daughter Ashley is four.
I was home with her for the day. Duane was at work—we work opposite
schedules so one of us is always home with her. Um. She wanted to play outside,
and I know it’s been cold, but the porch is covered and I brought a little
space heater out so—
anyway.
” She waved away whatever she
was about to say. “I was reading and she was playing with her dolls. I wanted
to get her some gloves because she kept getting up and going to put her hands
in front of the heater. I knew she was cold. I couldn’
t
—
I
wasn
’
t
away from her for more than a minute. It’
s imposs
—
I don
’t know
how
she’
s gone!
”

Her eyes welled
up
, tears dropping down her cheeks. “
I don
’t understand it. The kitchen is right inside the back
door and I just leaned in, grabbed them
,
and
came back and she was gone. I panicked. I checked the whole yard, the whole
house. I checked
three times
and I couldn’t find her. I asked the
neighbors, I called the police. I just
kept checking
.
”

Her breath went wild,
wracking her body like a paint shaker. Mr. Morris wrapped thick arms around
her,
pulling
her to his chest, but he
wasn’t really calm, either. His eyes were puffy, his face unevenly shaved. As
he held her, his tears fell into her hair. I was sitting as still as I could,
fighting the torrent of their emotions as it swirled like a hurricane in my
chest. My breathing had gone shaky, my jaw tight. It was small, selfish
,
and horrid, but I wanted to leave. I didn’t want to
sit there in that tempest of anguish. I was on the verge of breaking down. If I
didn’t leave soon, I was going to wail and melt into a heap on the floor.

Mel gave them a few seconds
before speaking softly.

“The police are working as
hard as they can to locate your daughter. I want to help. I can’
t im
agine how awful it must be to lose a child, and I want
to make sure Ashley gets home safe, sound, and happy. I’m offering my services
completely free.”

Mrs. Morris turned to us,
composing herself as best she could.

“We appreciate that,” she
said. Her eyes drifted to me again and I felt a wiggle of suspicion root to the
surface of her despair. “May we ask what it is your associate does, exactly?”

Before Mel could answer, I
blurted out a question of my own.
“What is it that you two do?
Or what does your daughter do? You know, like, her power.”

“
What
?
” Duane demanded, worry and panic radiating from him
in an acidic cloud masquerading as insult. I swallowed heavily,
rubbing
my hands over my arms.

“
I
’m an empath, I sense emotions in others. That’s my power,” I admitted. “Your
daughter, she could do something special too, right? Did she get that from one
of you? What’s her power?”

“
Her
—” Mrs. Morris breathed. Panic had swelled inside the couple,
their spines snapping straight at the same instant. I decided I didn’t like
that any better than the sadness.

“
Look, just
—
I
’m not here to tattle on you to the government or to some religious
nutjob who might burn you at the stake. I want to help. I want to make sure
your daughter is safe. I know you’re both panicked. I can
feel
it. You
don’t have to be. I don’t know how to prove to you that I’
m
—”