His hair is longer, reaching his shoulders. It’s in unwashed tendrils. His entire body is filthy, as if he hasn’t showered in weeks. He wears nothing more than black pants and a sleeveless shirt with a black vest. Dirt coats his arms, smudges his face. Dark eyes are barely visible through the way he seems to be squinting, crow’s feet spreading around them.
“This is Danny,” Raheem offers, stepping aside and holding a hand out in the newcomers direction. “Danny, this is Alivia Conrath.”
He does little more than grunts at me, those narrow eyes observing every move I make.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say, extending a hand out to shake. Danny doesn’t accept it, so I drop it awkwardly. “I apologize for my appearance. I just woke and wasn’t expecting anyone to return today.”
“What people wear has done little to impress me in the past,” Danny says. His voice is shocking. Rough. Rougher than any other voice I’ve heard. Like he’s smoked since he was two and screamed his lungs out in a rock band. But his southern accent is smooth as butter. “That ain’t gonna change now.”
“Oh,” I say. “Well, thanks.”
I sit in a chair, crossing my legs and watching as Raheem sits across from me. Danny, however, chooses to stand. He looks around the place like he’s searching for all the emergency exits.
“Why don’t you tell me about yourself?” I say. “I assume Raheem has told you all about me.”
“He did,” Danny says as he walks over to the portrait of my father. “You look like your dad.”
“I do,” I nod in agreement. Danny strikes me as the type who doesn’t reveal much about himself. I’m going to have to drag the details out of him. “How about you? Did you know your father?”
Danny grunts again. His eyes shift to the urns on the shelf beside Henry’s picture. “I didn’t have a father. Just a sperm donor.”
“I assume you don’t mean that literally,” I say. I watch Danielle eying Danny, like she’s ready to pounce on him. And I wonder, are her instincts and Debt telling her to protect me?
“You assume correctly,” he says. He pulls a cigarette from his vest pocket and places it between his lips, though he doesn’t make a move to light it. “Enough with the twenty questions. I just need to ask you one question and then I’ll know if I really want to join you.”
“And what question is that?” I ask. Suddenly, I’m nervous. It was hard enough earning the loyalty of my six House members. Now, I’m going to have to do it with fourteen new ones.
“Do you plan on ever feeding off of and killin’ any kids?”
The question is so stark and unexpected, that it takes me a few moments to answer. “Of course not. I would never.”
Danny’s eyes rise to meet mine. “Okay,” he says. The cigarette bounces in his mouth. “Then I’ll join you and your little House. On one condition.”
“What’s that?” I ask. My heart rate spikes. I don’t like negotiating when I’m supposed to be the leader in charge.
“That you don’t ask where I go durin’ the day,” he says. He reaches into his pocket again and produces a lighter. He sparks the flame, but doesn’t light the cigarette. “You can agree to that, and you’ve got yourself a loyal subject.”
I consider it for a long time. He’s obviously got some kind of mission during the day, which is surprising, considering our kind. But I look up at Raheem, searching his eyes for assurance. He nods, and if Raheem thinks he’s good enough to join my House, that’s good enough for me.
“You should know that trust is a very important value to me,” I say as I meet Danny’s eyes. “If I let you know that you can trust me, can I trust you?”
He looks at me long and hard. And for some reason, I get the feeling that this rough and dirty man can tell the difference between a good and a bad person. The fact that he hesitates so long lets me know that I am toeing that line.
“Okay,” he says. He finally does extend a hand forward. “We got ourselves a deal.”
I shake his hand. “Thank you,” I say. “You’re welcome to move into the house, though with the Court here, we don’t have much extra room. You’re can stay in my office temporarily.”
“Nah,” he says as he stands. “I’ll stay outside. That’s where I’m used to being, anyway.”
“But it’s negative temperatures out there,” I say, an amused expression creeping up on my face.
“Since when did the cold bother a vampire?” he says, and a smile tugs at one side of his face. It’s kind of endearing on such a rough character.