Free Night Huntress 02.5 - Happily Never After by Jeaniene Frost

said harshly, which made her grandmother sober. "The point is that Chance is a vampire, for God's sake! And it's like you don't even care. How did you ever get mixed up with a vampire, grandma?"
     
    "Sit down, Isa ."
     
    Her tone brooked no refusal. Her grandmother might be as frail as a cobweb physically, but there was still a strident note of command in her voice that said she was a force to be reckoned with nonetheless.
     
    Isa went back into the living room and sat on the couch, scowling. Her grandmother rummaged in the kitchen and then came out with two glasses. Instead of her normal tea, she poured herself a whiskey. And then poured one for Isa as well, handing it to her with a look that dared Isa to refuse it.
     
    "Do you know how old I am?"
     
    Isa blinked, not expecting that question. "Uh, of course. You're seventy-five."
     
    "Wrong," her grandmother said flatly. "I'm a hundred and twenty-six. I was born August second, 1882, in New Orleans, not Yonkers. When my mother ran off before my sixteenth birthday, I had no way to support myself except one—prostitution ." She ignored Isa's gasp. "I started off on the streets, but then worked my way up to a nice room on
Basin Street
where the high-class 'soiled doves' lived. Prostitution was legal in an area of New Orleans back then that the locals called The District. Later, it became known as Storyville .
     
    "One evening, a young man walked in and told the madam he wanted six girls for the entire night. Well, you can imagine how we laughed to ourselves at such a boast. But he paid, so we went upstairs with him." She paused to give Isa a knowing look. "Let me tell you something about vampires. With their stamina, six women for an entire night is simply a healthy start."
     
    "Grandma!" Isa interrupted, shocked beyond further words at the thought of her grandmother being a paid participant with the undead in a ménage-a-whatever seven people consisted of.
     
    "Oh, hush," her grandmother said casually. "The man who came to the bordello that night was a vampire named Bones, and he was looking for permanent residents for one of his houses. He showed all of us what he was, and to the three women who panicked, he erased that knowledge with the power in his gaze. To the three of us who didn't, he offered a new life living as his blood donors. We went with him, and he set us up in a beautiful house. Had tutors sent to teach us reading, writing, arithmetic, history, culture, anything we desired. And he gave us the most precious gift of all—the ability to stop aging, for a while at least."
     
    "How?" Isa whispered, her mind reeling at everything she was hearing.
     
    "Blood. Vampires don't age, one of the few things about their legend that's correct, and if you drink blood frequently enough from a vampire, your own aging will slow as well. I lived quite happily with Bones and the other girls for over forty years until I met your grandfather. Then I fell in love, but he had a very closed mind when it came to the supernatural. I either had to choose him and turn my back on everything I'd come to take for granted, or say no to true love. I chose love, Isa , and I haven't regretted it. Following your heart is always the right choice, no matter the circumstances."
     
    Isa drained her whiskey in a gulp. Her grandmother's lips twitched as she sipped more daintily at hers.
     
    "So is that how you met Chance?" Isa asked after a long silence. Then, "Good God, he's not the same vampire you lived with, is he?"
     
    "Heavens, no. I only met Chance once, very briefly when Bones came to visit me after I'd married your grandfather. Then not again before two weeks ago."
     
    This felt like a dream, sitting across from her grandmother discussing vampires, of all things. If Isa hadn't seen Chance's inhumanly glowing eyes herself—not to mention his fangs —she'd swear her grandmother was senile by relaying such a story. Still, there was nothing imaginary about a bullet hole in her stomach