Page 119 of Besieger
Stefan’s only eye widened in surprise. He croaked a laugh, then another.
“Yes! That’s it! That’s perfect!” He threw himself at Emerick, clapping him on the shoulder, the enthusiasm spilling out of him. “Oooooh, I’ve always liked your husband, Victor! Such a clever, generous man!”
“Erik—”
The colour had drained from Victor’s face, but Stefan was no longer interested in him.
“I cannot assist with setting it up or working at the establishment, but you can hire as many staff as you need, no?” Emerick smiled gently and looked up at Stefan who kept patting him on the back, nodding at his every word. “Unless, of course, there is a reason why Victor cannot own and run a business?”
“Oh, no, no. I know a guy who can help with the licence.” Stefan flashed him a grin and leaned in. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, do you know that?”
“You are married and your wife is with child!” Irena called out, perturbed, adding an insult he did not catch as he kept greasing Emerick up:
“My friend, how kind of you to support your husband in his career! I had no idea you had any interest in baking. I am beyond touched—”
“You are touched in the head!” Irena hissed and swatted Victor’s arm, and pointed at the two men. “Pleaseget him out of here before Stefan embarrasses himself any further.”
“I am not doing this for you, Stefan. I am doing it for Victor.” Emerick’s smile twitched, unable to pry himself free.
Do let him rest. I insist, the vampire’s voice pierced Stefan’s forehead and he had to clench his teeth not to yelp. He let go of Emerick and tried to help him into his jacket, but was gently pushed away.
Victor opened the door and ushered Emerick out. They had switched to German, not bothering to wish them good night. Stefan could not tell if they were arguing, Victor was speaking too fast. He had never seen him raise his voice to anyone.
“Can Emerick really buy a patisserie?” he asked Irena over his shoulder.
“Why couldn’t he? Plenty of foreigners own restaurants here.” Irena shrugged and shoved a broom into his chest. “Don’t forget to buy garlic on your way home.”
He blinked at her, confused. Lei had the occasional craving, a must, surrounding the miracle of life and conception, but he had not received any calls or texts from her with requests. Certainly not for garlic.
“Why do I need garlic?”
“As a safeguard in case Victor divorces Emerick over your daft cakes, and he rightfully comes to kill you. You can make a stake from the broom handle, too. But sweep the floor first, okay?”
Stefan did not sharpen any stakes or buy garlic on his way home. Not because Irena was—probably—joking or because Emerick would not actually kill him, but because he knew they made for a poor defence against a vampire.I’m the pack leader. He told himself, shoving his hands in his apron’s pockets.It’s against vampire-lycan relations if he kills me. I think…
Early on, when Emerick had begun frequenting the coffee shop, Stefan had used the opportunity to ask him questions about vampires. The interview he conducted had felt like a poorly done quiz, but at the end of it he confirmed which set of vampiric rules Emerick abided by. He had a reflection, did not sleep in a coffin, or a hole in the ground, nor did he need to be invited in before stepping through a doorway. Garlic, crosses and holy water had no effect on him either.
Throughout the questionnaire, Emerick sounded as though he had gone through a similar exam in the past. It seemed rather unlikely to have been with Victor, the man was too pragmatic for such silliness.
Stefan had thrown his phone on the table and buried his face in his palms.
“I don’t suppose you will tell me your weaknesses?” Stefan had groaned through his fingers.
“Sunlight. Fire. Decapitation.” Emerick had counted them on his fingers as he spoke. “Though the last two can kill anyone, really. What about werewolves? Does silver have an effect on you?”
“I am not a werewolf,” Stefan replied vaguely. “Andno—not necessarily. Silver can be unpleasant, though. Can you turn into anything? Bats? Dogs? Fog? A frog?”
Emerick had shrugged and it made his shirt open wider, revealing more of his naked chest. Stefan had stared at it for a beat longer before he drained his coffee and stood up. He was lucky it had been a slow night at the shop then, and most of their customers had settled in at the corner tables, reading or talking quietly among themselves.
“You are of no help,” Stefan declared drily.
“Perhaps you should ask for help the other vampire who frequents your fine establishment?”
“Do you mean the vampire you lied about—the one who was supposedly going to rule over the country?” Stefan had grimaced, and tied his hair back. He redid his apron and smoothed the fabric. “Why the lies, Emerick? Why not tell the truth: that you might be planning on wasting a few years of immortality here, chasing a lover? Irena would have disliked you less.Iwould have disliked you less.”
Emerick had appeared to consider it, eyes downcast. When he finally spoke, there was a heaviness to his voice that had unnerved Stefan. At that point in time, the vampire had been living in Tarnovo for a little over a year, and yet Stefan could not get used to having a creature like Emerick around.
“When we first met, I had not made up my mind what I wanted to do. I was not supposed to be here. But then I saw Victor and… I followed him, I could not let him go.”
