Sabrina's Clan by Tracy Cooper-Posey Page A

trunk and opened it. Now he was here, he understood why Jake had not been concerned about them bringing his duffel bag of equipment here. There was no one anywhere around to take any notice of a heavy bag being toted into the house. “This isn’t what I was expecting,” he told Jake, hauling out the bag and closing the trunk.
    “They let you drive?” Jake said. “Do you find it hard?”
    “I have to concentrate when I’m turning left, especially at busy intersections,” Nyanther admitted. He hauled the bag through the bushes to the steps and climbed up.
    Jake moved around the verandah to meet him at the top and take the bag. “Thanks for this,” he said, hefting it. “If I had more time to spare, I’d drive everywhere, too.”
    “We all have to keep up a human appearance,” Nyanther said. “You’ll get used to it.”
    Jake shook his head. “Once the gargoyles are dead, I’m done. I can’t go for too much longer, living this way. I’m spread too thin as it is.”
    Startled, Nyanther considered him. The sunglasses hid his eyes and it was difficult to tell what he was thinking without seeing them. He really thought this was a one-time thing? It seemed like a naïve idea.
    Nyanther kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t here to piss Jake off.
    “Come in. I just made tea.”
    “That I can’t drink,” Nyanther reminded him.
    “That’s fine, I’ll drink yours,” Jake said. “This way.”
    Along the entire length of the verandah were narrow, old-style French doors, with shutters on the lower half and glass with white leading on the top. All the doors stood open, inviting in the breeze. The paintwork was faded and worn away in spots.
    The wooden verandah flooring continued uninterrupted into the inside of the house. It did look like it wrapped around all four sides, too. Nyanther stepped gratefully into the interior, away from the bright sunlight, which had begun to be uncomfortable.
    “If it’s too cold for you, I’ll shut the doors,” Jake said, dumping the bag on the floor in the corner of the room and taking off the sunglasses.
    Nyanther just looked at him. Now he could see his eyes. Again, he was startled by their coloring.
    “You don’t feel the cold?” Jake guessed.
    “Or heat. Direct, hot sunlight bothers me, though.”
    Jake nodded. “Right. You have to remember I’m new at this.”
    “It shows,” Nyanther assured him. “I don’t have to remember.”
    Jake grinned. “Ouch. Okay, if I’m making an asshole of myself because I’m breaking some rule or protocol or something, tell me, huh? I get the impression there are a lot of rules.”
    “There are no rules,” Nyanther assured him. “There are a lot of things you do if you don’t want to end up dead. Not pissing off vampires is just one.”
    Jake picked up a big mug from a rickety side table and sipped, while Nyanther looked around.
    Most of this level of the house was taken up by one big room and the French doors made up two and a half of the four walls. In high summer, it would be very pleasant. Even now, with the wind shifting the air through the room and the sound of the waves barely fifty yards away, it was very nice.
    It just wasn’t what Nyanther had expected to see. This wasn’t the sort of house a Summerfield would live in, even as a weekend getaway. The worn paint, which didn’t look like it had been artistically weathered for effect, the rough wood and the poor furnishings told a different story.
    The sofa was low to the ground and covered in a rough-spread, brightly colored blanket. Loose cushions made up the back of it and Nyanther wondered if it was a sofa at all. It was possibly a mattress, covered up. Did Jake sleep there?
    The side table looked like a garage sale or junk yard find, with chipped paint and worn edges, although the lines of the legs were graceful.
    There was very little other furniture. An ottoman in front of the sofa seemed to be the only other extra seating in the room. Right now it was being used