I looked over to Dren, begging him No civilians with my gaze. “I’m fine—thanks for asking.”
“You’re fine, but you don’t seem fine, if you catch my drift.”
“I get that a lot,” I said, feeling my lips purse. He came nearer, and I saw his eyes flare from dark brown to watery gray. The bridge of his nose changed, and the position of his eyebrows. “Asher?” I guessed, with hope.
He put his arm companionably around me and turned to look at Dren. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said, putting his hand out. I watched his skin flow from shade to shade—and so did the vampire.
Dren took a step back. “I want nothing to do with you, shapeshifter.”
“Then you’d best be leaving,” Asher said, taking his hand back.
“This does not end things, Nurse.” Dren turned and started striding away.
“I know,” I said after his departing form. But what would?
* * *
I supposed that Asher and I together, talking to the same blank spot, looked like we were doing performance art. But the tide of people looking for last-minute deals was unrelenting, and soon people trolling for sales forgot about us. Carts and customers angled around Dren without even thinking about it, until he vanished into the darkness outside.
I turned toward my pseudo-Santa. “How’d you get him to leave?”
“I wasn’t born being called Asher. It’s a nickname. The vampires think of my name like a verb.”
“Oh.” Asher had sort of saved my life once before. We’d also slept together, before I knew he was a shapeshifter, and before he knew that I knew what that meant. “Well, thanks. And thanks for the other time, too. And for the flowers at the hospital.”
“You’re welcome.” He grinned at me. I hadn’t seen him wear this face before. I wondered whose it’d originally been. I’d never seen him in less-than-superbly-chosen clothing before now.
“That shirt is hideous.” Maybe it’d come with the face’s original owner.
“It’s seasonal,” he protested. “And you look just as festive.”
“I’m going to work tonight.” I had on two pairs of long johns and one white turtleneck beneath my green hospital scrubs, and my coat. I’d decided to convince myself that the spots on it were pre-existing stains, and not dried werewolf blood.
“Really? That’s tragic.”
I shook my head. “It’s holiday pay. After this, there’s a holiday drought till Martin Luther King.”
“You forgot New Year’s Eve.”
Not in the least I didn’t. “Yeah, well, I’ll be busy that night, it seems.”
“Kissing strange men under mistletoe?”
“Doubtful.” I turned back toward the aisle to contemplate my couch cover choices.
“You’re not worried about the psychotic and pissed-off vampire that you’ve irreparably damaged for the rest of his immortal life?”
“I’m guessing I’m safe for tonight. I’m more fearful of dealing with my family tomorrow.” I pulled down a couch cover. It was large enough to cover my couch, but it had stripes. I didn’t want to commit to stripes. Plus, it was fifty dollars.
“Wait, you’re working, and they’re still coming over? You’re not cooking, are you?”
“No.” I didn’t cook ever, unless turkey sandwiches and peanut butter and jellies counted. “My mom’s coming in. I’ll only have to deal with my family on the most stressful day of the year after just two hours of sleep.”
“That doesn’t sound fun.”
“It won’t be.” I went up on tiptoes and reached to the back. There was a black couch cover there. It wouldn’t go with my decor, slight as it was, but it was cheaper. Thirty. I glanced over at Asher, watching me. “What’re you doing for Christmas? Actually, why the hell are you here?”
“Would you believe Santa sent me?” He touched a spot on his shoulder, and the LED lights on his shirt blinked on, winking green and red.
I rolled my eyes. “No.”
He shrugged. “I go where the people go. Where there are crowds. The more people I touch, the more options I have,” he said, wiggling his fingers out toward me. I danced backward and he laughed. “Don’t worry, you’ve got your badge on you somewhere,” he said.
He was right, I did. The badge that got me into Y4 also proved I was a noncombatant to the creatures that honored such things. Remembering his arm around my waist. It hadn’t been skin on skin, but: “You touched me!” I protested.
“Of course. But you’ve got a coat on.” He looked around. “It’s harder this time of year to find skin. That’s why I go to the dance clubs.”