Odyssey (The Vampire Destiny Series Companion Book 1) (46 page)

“Damn it!  I was hoping you’d feel up to going out and having a girl’s night out,” she responded with a small pout on her lips, her voice becoming a whine.  “C’mon, just come over to my house for an hour, Josie.  I can call Anna and we can stay in.  It’ll be fun.  I can tell you all about the guy I met a few days ago.”  Georgia was still chattering away as she led us to her sedan, unlocking the doors and popping the trunk so I could stow our bag away.  As I placed the luggage in the car with tense shoulders, it was obvious all of Georgia’s plans specifically excluded me from the equation.  I slid into the back seat of Georgia’s car without a word and left Josephine and Georgia to stare at each other over the roof of her car.

“We’ll see.  I’m really tired, Georgia.”

With a loud huff, Georgia opened her car door and got in, slamming it behind her.

We drove for miles in silence, an awkward pause settling over us.  I had chosen to ignore the tension and retrieved my phone from my pocket, immersing myself in e-mails and missed text alerts.  I did however keep an ear open to their conversation.

“So how long are you staying?” Georgia’s voice asked anxiously. 

“A few days.  However long it takes me to get my things sorted and accounts closed out.”

An uneasy quiet filled the car again.  Georgia would try again.  Of this, I was sure.

“I thought you didn’t like big crowds.  New York City is kinda known for that,” Georgia remarked, glancing away from the road and giving Josephine a pointed look.

“You’re right, I don’t like big crowds.  But I think this is a good move for me,” she commented, rubbing her hands together nervously.  I cleared my throat from the back seat, reminding her I was still present.  “I mean it’s a good move for
us
.  Stefan has business there; my book publisher is there.  It’s kind of a win/win for both of us.”

Georgia let out a loud, overly dramatic sigh.  “Yeah, it’s a win/win for you,” she mumbled under her breath, figuring neither of us could hear her.  Unbeknownst to her, I could hear a pin drop a mile away, and thanks to Josephine’s much-improved hearing, her words were as clear as if she had yelled them.  I silently willed the car to go faster before I strangled Josephine’s friend.

“What kind of business does Stefan do, Josie?”  Georgia sneered.  She was going to continue her charade of pretending that I was not in the car, choosing to let her immature, obnoxious side take over.  I was relieved to see Josephine’s villa approaching as we climbed over a small hill in the road.  She slowed and turned into the driveway, the gravel crunching under her tires.

“I own some properties in the New York area.  I can work from anywhere, however it is helpful to be close by to manage the day to day operations,” I answered her, ignoring the fact that Georgia had directed the question to Josephine.

Georgia finally acknowledged me as she peered in the rearview mirror, her blue eyes flashing as she turned off her car.

“Well, goodie for you, Stefan.  So you just figured you’d just be your normal over-bearing self and drag Josie along with you.  ‘Cause I’m sure you figure she doesn’t have anything better to do besides follow your ass all over the world.”

I was out of the car faster than she could blink.  I barreled around to the front of Georgia’s car, prepared to grab her out by her throat and choke the life out of her.  Josephine managed to cut me off, placing her hands against my chest and looking up at me with imploring, empathetic eyes.  She understood my frustration and felt for me.  Georgia antagonized me at every turn and was testing my limited patience.

“Stefan, please.  Don’t let her do this.  She’s trying to get you angry,”
she silently pleaded with me.

My chest pushed against her hands for a moment.  I closed my eyes for a second and drew in a deep, unnecessary breath.  When they reopened, I looked down at her wearily. 
“I am only tolerating this because she is your friend and I love you.  Know and remember this.”

Her shoulders sagged in relief as she sent me her mental thoughts. 
“Thank you, Stefan.  I love you.”

“Georgia, open the trunk please,” she called out.  The trunk lid popped open and Josephine placed her keys in my hand, her fingers lingering against mine longer than necessary.

“Let me handle this.  Take our bags inside and let me talk to her, okay?”
she thought to me, attempting to force a tiny smile.

I nodded imperceptibly and turned to head to the back of the car, pulling our luggage out.  I walked to the front porch with the bag in one hand, impatiently jingling the keys in the other.  She waited until I had opened the door and stepped inside before she faced Georgia.

Peeking out the window, Georgia looked arrogant and self-satisfied with her little performance as she leaned against the side of her car, her arms crossed under her chest.  Seeing her like this made me even angrier because I knew she was going to attempt to play Josephine for a fool.

“Are you happy with yourself?” Josephine asked, walking to stand in front of her, mirroring her stance.

“Huh?” Georgia blinked.  She pulled her arms tighter around herself, her head rising sharply as she met her gaze.

“I’m trying to not take sides and you’re making it really difficult not to do it,” she confessed, glancing away to stare at the gravel before meeting her blue eyes.  “I get that you maybe don’t like him, or you think he’s wrong for me or hell, maybe you’re just pissed off that I’m running off with him.”

Whistling softly, I stepped away from the window.  I should have known Josephine would always do the last thing I expected.  I had nothing to worry about.

***

We had been up since 8 a.m. sorting through her bookshelves.  She had assured me that books and clothing were really the only things she shipped from place to place when she moved.  She did not tell me that she owned a small library and that it would require painstaking care in packing away each treasured book.  Tackling the bookshelf was also the most time-consuming since I attempted to talk her out of keeping the majority of them and she voiced her arguments as to why they were all necessary.

“Explain why you have two copies of
The Great Gatsby
?” My question was more of a statement.  I flipped through the first well-worn copy before tossing it aside to reach for the second. I looked down at her, waiting for Josephine to answer me.

“One was given to me by my Dad.  I mean, my adopted father.”  She pointed to the book in my hand.  “The other I picked up at a thrift store while I was waiting for my books to arrive to my new address during one of my moves.”

Even though it made no sense, I nodded and flipped through more books.  I picked up another, my eyebrow raised in humor as I ran my hand over the cover.  “
The Picture of Dorian Gray
.  Ironic book to have, yes?”

Leaning against the wall, I crossed my denim-clad legs and skimmed through the book.  I could easily read the book in the matter of moments if I wanted, but I had read it when it was first published and could remember every word printed.

She stared up from her cross-legged position on the floor. “I suppose it is now that I think about it.  A beautiful man that doesn’t age,” she surmised.  I glanced up from the book and licked my lips as I waited for her to continue.  “You don’t have a painting of yourself stashed away in an attic somewhere that is revealing your true age and evil deeds, do you?”

Laughing, I waved the book in front of me.  “No, I can assure you I do not.  I am going to assume this goes in the keep pile.  Should I mention I happen to have the 1891 First Edition copy of this very book?”

Her mouth gaped for a moment.  She tucked a piece of hair that escaped from her ponytail behind her ear.  She was attempting to act nonplussed about the fact that I owned a First Edition copy and I had been around to purchase it, instead trying to refocus on packing.  She pointed to the keep pile and smile angelically. “Please.”

I exhaled loudly and placed the book in what was the unofficial “keep” pile.  I started on the last shelf, pulling out another leather bound volume.  This one interested me and I examined the book in silence, opening it and flipping through it.  I stopped and concentrated on a page.  My eyebrows furrowed and my mood-change must have been apparent.

“What?” Josephine asked, distracted by packing books away in a box.

“This book. 
The Life of Napoleon
by John Holland Rose.  The 1904 version.  Interesting.”  I held on to the volume and crossed the room to sit on the floor beside her, one leg bent with my arm resting on my knee.  “How did you come to own this edition?”

“It was another gift from my adoptive father.  He was a book lover as well as a collector.  When he died, his collection became mine.”  She shrugged and went back to packing.

I had not relinquished my hold on the book.  She needed to see this for herself, even though it would likely cause her pain.  I reached over and placed one of my hands on hers, effectively stopping her.  She gave me a distracted look and was confused at my sudden interest in a book on Napoleon that her adoptive father had gifted to her.

“There is a note inside.  Did you know that?”  I questioned, my voice low and soothing.

Her eyes narrowed.  “What? A note?  No, I’ve never even opened the book.”

Placing the heavy text in her hands, my finger marked the spot where the yellowed note rested.  As the pages fell open, her eyes were drawn to the paper that was folded and lodged in the binding of the book.  By the way her skin turned ashen and her eyes watered, I realized she recognized the scrawl of her adoptive father’s handwriting immediately.

She ran her fingertips over the fragile note, hesitating before opening it and sucking in a ragged breath.

“What are you waiting for, Josephine?”

Laughing nervously, she twisted her mouth to the side.  “More bad news?”

I leaned across the stack of books and cupped her cheek with my hand.  “Read it.  Unless there is news about your other side of the family being werewolves, I think we are fine.”