Page 65 of Kick the Candle (Knight Games 2)
A few steps closer and I could clearly make out a puddle. The door to the garage was slightly ajar. With two fingers, I nudged it the rest of the way open. Rick's car, a Tesla roadster I quite admired, was missing. Wet floor, near drowning victim in Red Grove Lake, missing Rick. Hmm. How was he involved? Where had he gone? Why hadn't he contacted me for back up? I didn't like this. Not at all.
"You can't possibly blame him. After you went all cray-cray about the Gary incident, it's no wonder he wanted to give you some space."
Blink. Blink. "Cray-Cray?" I wiped a hand over my face to try to calm my burgeoning temper. "Rick knew I was in love with Gary and watched his heart stop beating under the fangs of Anna the Vampire."
"Anna the Vampire." Poe ruffled his feathers. "You wouldn't be talking about Anna Bathory would you?"
"Yeah. I guess she owns the Mill Wheel. According to Gary, she runs a tight ship."
Poe bobbed his head. "Anna Bathory was daughter to Erzsebet Bathory, countess of Hungary in the late 1500's, also called the Blood Countess."
I knew I'd heard that name before! "That's right, Erzsebet killed hundreds of young girls before she was put to death. She was the most notable female serial killer in history." I'd seen her story on the History channel as a possible origination of Vampire lore, along with Vlad the Conqueror.
"Anna was her daughter. Interesting thing about Anna, no one is sure when she was turned, or by whom, but many believed her mother was feeding her early appetite."
I hugged my stomach, suddenly feeling cold even though Rick's house was a comfortable temperature. "So, you are telling me that a five hundred year old vamp is running a bar in Carlton City and is responsible for turning my ex-boyfriend."
Poe bobbed his head again.
"Look, I get what you're saying. Anna is like this ancient, uber-evil vamp and Rick was at his weakest. Even if I could understand why Rick wouldn't be in a position to confront her at that point, that doesn't explain why he didn't do more to help me. Why not find a way to tell me? I was in misery, Poe. I cried for days. I lost my apartment." Tears formed in my eyes just thinking about that time in my life. "I couldn't even get out of bed. I felt abandoned, worthless. Those first weeks, after I realized he wasn't coming back and the money was gone, were the only time in my entire life I considered suicide. Rick may not have caused that low, but he allowed it to fester by not revealing himself to me sooner."
"Some things have to happen in their own time," Poe said softly, sounding eerily human...until he rotated his neck and started preening his feathers.
I searched the counter for a pad of paper, finding a promotional stack of sticky notes from Winshire Bank and Loan next to the fridge. Finding a pen next to it, I scratched Rick a note that I needed to talk to him pronto. Then, on a whim, I tore off a blank sheet from the bottom.
"What do you need that for?" Poe asked, hopping to my shoulder.
"Hey, watch the talons. New scrubs," I said. He loosened his grip. "As it so happens, I have some banking needs, like, for instance, a big leather satchel full of money, and if Rick uses Winshire then I feel very safe placing my wad into their hands."
"Ah. Can we go home now?" he asked.
"Sure. We have a window to fix. And I haven't had dinner yet. Of course, depending on the mess you left, maybe I'll be having raven."
I was joking, of course, but when I opened the door, Poe disappeared into the night.
Sold
Clearly, bank teller Maggie thought I was either a drug dealer or a prostitute. She glared at me out of the corner of her eye as she counted and recounted the money from Gary's leather bag. While I'd hoped to get this out of the way earlier, it had taken me an entire week of working at the hospital during the day and taking up the slack for missing-in-action Rick at night to make it to Winshire Bank and Loan. I just hoped the process would be fast and easy. I hadn't heard from my father since Thanksgiving, but I didn't think he'd wait forever.
"Not many people come in here with this much cash," she said with an upswing in her tone that clearly indicated her desire for me to explain my situation.
I didn't. It was none of her blue-eyeshadow-wearing, curly-headed business. Lips pressed together, I stared at her impatiently.
"And you would like to deposit the entire sixty-thousand into your savings account?"
"Yes. And I need to talk to one of your loan officers about a possible mortgage loan."
"Oh, I see." A supervisor removed my bag of money, and Maggie handed me a receipt with my new savings account balance of $60,800. The extra eight hundred was the result of the closing transfer from my previous savings account, everything I had in the world. "Wait here and I'll see if a representative is available."
I nodded. Soon, a balding man in a tan oxford and striped brown tie was shaking my hand vigorously. His too-long mustache tickled the lip over his crooked teeth.
"Maggie says you'd like to talk about a loan. I'm Chuck. I can help you with that," he said excitedly. He released my hand and adjusted his square-framed glasses on his nose. The lenses were dirty. I had the strangest urge to remove them from his face and chamois the glass.
"Yes. I'm interested in buying the house I'm currently living in."
"Excellent. Step on down to my office, and let's get some info."
I followed him to the cubicle he called his "office" and took a seat in a springy chair across from his desk. For the next thirty minutes he grilled me about my income, expenses, debts, and the estimated value of my property. Thanks to my dad letting me stay in the house rent-free, my debt to income ratio was above average, and I'd kept up on my credit card payments, so my credit score was decent as well. The money was as good as mine; I could feel it.
