Free All Just Glass by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes Page B

much harassment it earned them from normal humans. Someone must have warned this one to cover up.
    “Can I talk to you in private for a moment?”
    The vampire looked from Adia to the bloodbond who had just walked in, probably torn between some sense of obligation and the prospect of a free meal. Adia debated interrupting to offer her name or phone number, but decided that would be too blatant.
    She took the coffee and sought a quiet table in the back of the room, where she pulled out a science fiction novel she kept in her purse for when she needed an excuse. It would have been nice to eavesdrop on the two at the counter, but the vampire brought Matt into the back room, leaving a BE RIGHT BACK sign by the register. Adia supposed he didn’t care what customers he might miss.
    Adia took the opportunity to scan the coffee shop over the pages of her book. This time of year, long sleeves weren’t exactly noteworthy, so there was no way to know if the other bonds inthe room belonged to Nikolas. The real question was, why had someone called Heather from here? The phone was behind the counter, but customers might be allowed to use it. Anyone could have called; the phone itself wouldn’t give her anything more. Fortunately, every hunter knew that the friend of her enemy made a useful friend, and it looked like the local vampire might be a very good friend.
    After about two minutes secluded in the back room with Matt, he returned to the café, nodded to a sleepy-looking human to man the counter and then slid into the seat across from Adia.
    “What I was about to say was my shift is up,” he said. “I would ask if you’d like to get a cup of coffee, but I seem to have already provided that.” When she chuckled, he added, “My name’s Jerome.”
    “Anna,” she replied. “Was that one of your friends looking for a place to stay?”
    “More like a friend of a vague acquaintance, who only shows up when he needs a favor,” Jerome answered.
    “Oh?” She wasn’t expecting him to tell the truth to the human he thought she was, but most people included nuggets of reality in their lies. She could sift for those.
    Before Jerome could answer, someone else—a girl this time, with no hint of a bloodbond that Adia could make out—tapped him on the shoulder.
    Jerome sighed. “I think it’s going to be one of those mornings,” he said as he glanced up at the girl trying to get his attention and gave her a halfhearted glare. Jerome jotted down a couple of words on a napkin—an address, Adia was almostcertain—and passed it off. Adia watched out of the corner of her eye as the human read the address, presumably memorized it, and tucked the napkin into a not-quite-empty coffee cup before she tossed them both into the trash. The liquid would destroy the writing, which kept people like Adia from stealing the napkin to get the address.
    “You’re popular,” Adia observed.
    “I’m more like an information center,” he answered with a self-deprecating chuckle.
    Adia glanced at the clock behind the counter and sighed dramatically. “I hate to caffeinate and run, but you seem pretty busy, and I should probably get home sometime.”
    Walking away was a gamble. She was betting on the reaction the person he was pretending to be would have to the person she was pretending to be. She couldn’t take him on in a place this public, and she couldn’t wander into the back room with him and become dinner. That meant she needed to leave but give him a reason to keep in touch after she left so she didn’t lose her only contact.
    “Anna.” He said her name as she started to turn away.
    She felt a brief moment of triumph, and then her cell phone rang. A wave of dread passed through her before she even saw Zachary’s number on the screen.
    “Sorry,” she said to Jerome before she answered the phone. “Hey, Bill.” To Jerome, she added, “My brother,” just loudly enough that Zachary would hear it. He would know she was with someone