The Guily Ones

Isabel

"He did not just do that."

I stood there, stunned, in front of the closed door. Wearing nothing but a bathrobe. I had no money, no ID, and, judging by my current state, not even a shred of dignity. I let my head fall against the wall repeatedly, each impact producing a satisfying thud and a distracting pounding in my already swimming head.

Stupid Ash.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

A woman with brown hair and kind, albeit sorrowful, brown eyes interrupted my little moment of self-inflicted punishment. I cleared my throat.

"You're Ashley, right?"

Startled, I turned to her and nodded. She looked familiar...

"Isabel." She extended her hand, and I noticed how cold it was when our hands touched. A vampire. Isabel, sensing my sudden alertness, took a respectful step back.

"We met at Godric's..." She hesitated, her voice breaking as she mentioned him, then continued in a hushed tone, "party last night."

That was just yesterday? I rubbed my forehead.

"Yes, that's right... Isabel," I repeated, now a bit more warmly, embarrassed by both my appearance and behavior. I raised my hand. "Hi.", flustered, I tugged on my bathrobe, the only garment I had to allow for some modesty. "I'm sorry for not recognizing you, to be honest, I'm a bit..." I sighed, laughing awkwardly. Yeah, I didn't really knew how to end that sentence. "A bit out of it, I suppose."

She gave me a gentle smile. "You look like you could use some help," she observed, stating the obvious. I sighed again. As much as I hated to admit it, accepting help from strangers had never been my strong suit. Then again, as I'd just realized, there weren't many options for self-rescue when you were dressed only in a bathrobe, underwear and a sheen layer of sweet still covering your body from where it had betrayed one self because of some heated kisses and well placed hands.

"It's that obvious, huh?" I replied, causing Isabel to chuckle.

"Only to a trained eye!" She winked at me, and I eyed her skeptically.

I liked her. First Godric, now Isabel... Maybe I needed to rethink my stance on vampires. She tilted her head. "But now I'm curious," she began, gesturing at me, "What happened?"

"Eric," I said, shrugging. Was there really more of an explanation needed?

"¡Ay, Dios mío," Isabel muttered in Spanish. "Culo grosero."

My Spanish was barely passable, so I wasn't entirely sure if I understood her correctly, but if I wasn't mistaken, she had just called Eric a rude ass. I grinned. Yep, I definitely liked her.

"First, he drags a half-dead body into the house and refuses to let anyone else take care of you, and then he throws you out in a bathrobe a few hours later, when you've barely gained conciseness." She studied me before gently taking my elbow and trying to lead me down the hallway, muttering in Spanish and rolling her eyes. Unfortunately, she grabbed the wrong arm, and I inhaled sharply as my shoulder protested against the movement.

Isabel stopped in her tracks. "He didn't even heal your shoulder?" 

Her voice jumped an octave in disbelief. She looked like she was ready to fix the problem herself, biting into her wrist, but I stopped her.

"He actually did something right for once. I didn't want that."

"Stubborn, huh?" Isabel grinned. "He always goes for the stubborn ones."

Before I could respond or ask what she meant, she was already on the phone, giving orders. I hadn't even noticed her pulling out a phone.

"Anubis Airline, medical transport to Louisiana, please," she said, wedging the phone between her shoulder and ear while opening a hotel door. Before I could decide whether to enter or stay outside, she waved me in. Hesitantly, I followed—there wasn't really any other option. As she continued her call, Isabel zipped around the room at vampire speed, gathering things without missing a beat or even sounding out of breath. I stayed put in the small hallway.