(The vampire duology pt 1) The undead romance

Chapter 3:- A Secret ingredient

Heads turned our way, and for a brief, glorious moment, I convinced myself it was just because we were stunningly attractive. But then, out of the corner of my eye, I caught our reflection in the far-off, foggy mirror at the end of the diner. That was when it hit me like a bad joke. There I was, in all my soggy glory—muddy jeans, red-stained yellow T-shirt, and shoes that were supposed to be reddish-brown but looked more like they had survived a ketchup apocalypse. Next to me was the man of the hour, his golden-brown hair matted with blood, giving him the appearance of a medieval knight who'd lost the battle but won the war. And behind him, his sister, looking for all the world like a Victorian witch straight out of a BBC period drama.

I silently thanked my laziness for not bothering with makeup today. My black widow friend's kohl had started its own migration south, yet she still managed to look like she belonged on the cover of Witch Weekly. All in all, they looked like they'd stepped out of a Van Helsing movie, and I was the unfortunate comic relief from some B-grade horror flick.

"Are you sure they're not going to kick us out?" I raised an eyebrow at the hulking figure next to me. He grinned, the kind of grin that said, I've got this. "Don't worry,Danny's an old friend. Got a private parlor here." He grabbed my hand, warm and reassuring, and for a fleeting moment, I considered kicking him somewhere painful. But my cold, shivering self decided to soak up all the warmth like a cat basking in the sun.

We plopped down near a tiny electric fireplace, and before I could even process the situation, a barmaid appeared with the biggest mugs of beer I'd ever seen and three enormous burger sandwiches with fries. I didn't waste time on formalities; I dove right in. "Erick, you know I don't like this greasy food you're always scarfing down," his sister remarked in that posh accent of hers, like she was too good for the rest of us mortals.

I rolled my eyes and, through a mouthful of burger, muttered, "You might find the world more agreeable if you didn't always look like you've got dung under your nose." To my surprise, Erick snorted into his beer mug.

"One more word from you, and you'll regret it," she warned, her tone sharp enough to cut steel. I glanced at her and wisely shut my mouth, the memory of a terrifying primary school teacher flashing before my eyes. My cheeks flushed with embarrassment

"Well, it wasn't classy of me to call you a stupid girl, even though you are," she snapped, nudging her burger with a finger as if it offended her. Erick, watching our exchange with bemused interest, seemed to be enjoying the show. The awkward silence was broken when Matthew walked in, proudly sporting a T-shirt with Tweety Bird grinning and declaring, *Hello, bitches*. It was the same shirt I'd gifted him for his birthday. He glanced at me, concerned, then his eyes glazed over as he noticed the black widow.

"Will you introduce me to your new friends?" he asked, grinning stupidly at her. We both glared at him and rolled our eyes in unison. "Sit down, Matthew," I sighed. He was a good guy, really, but he had a knack for attracting the most toxic women imaginable. It's like the man had a radar for drama queens.

Erick extended a hand to Matthew with a friendly grin. "You must be the sheriff's son, Matthew. I've heard so much about you." He glanced at me and winked, sending my brain into overdrive. *Wee woo, this man is trouble, wee woo.*

"I must apologize, Anne. You must have been really scared," Erick said, his voice sincere as he drummed his fingers on the table. "Actually, I'm an officer. I was off duty, but I saw the blood just like you and went to investigate. That's when my hypoglycemia hit, and I felt dizzy. My sister knows about my condition and always has a glucose solution ready. When she saw from my location that I hadn't moved for a while, she came. I always share my location with her, just in case."

"That doesn't explain how you knew my name or why you didn't want to call the police," I retorted, my eyes narrowing as I glared at both siblings while Matthew devoured his sandwich with oblivious enthusiasm. Erick pulled out his ID, flashing it at me, and the title practically screamed at me: *Police Officer.*

"I can't tell you why I can't involve the police because it's part of a private investigation. As for your name, well, I was actually on my way to see you." He grinned like a big, goofy golden retriever, and my eyes widened in surprise.

"Not you specifically, but your agency. I need Mr. David's contact number. That mansion can't be renovated , and we're trying to reach him, but all his contact numbers are dead ends."

"What do you mean, 'can't be renovated'? We're already finishing the initial blueprints. It's going to be a masterpiece!" I glared at him. *Is he serious right now?* "This is going to be the biggest project in town! It'll transform lives!"

"Well, not on my watch," he said, his tone sharp as he avoided my eyes and stared into his beer. "Maybe David didn't tell you, but all the land surrounding that house belongs to my family, and we're not signing this agreement. I take it hotels need parking lots, gardens, driveways, and pools? I've told this to your Mr. David since he came to town last year out of nowhere, claiming the mansion, trying to get us to sign some bloody agreement." His voice grew louder, his face redder as he ran his hands through his muddy hair.

"You've got to be kidding me. Do you even know how much money you could be making, let alone everyone in this town? Do you see this rusty diner? It's the only one for miles because no one has enough money to open anything else!"

I was weary, frustrated, and confused. "Well, over my dead body," he glared at me, but when our eyes met, he quickly looked away. His sister broke the silence, her voice quiet as she sipped her tea like an English old lady who considered etiquette a religion. "Do you know that every two months or so, we find a dead body around the mansion since Mr. David came to town?"

"That's not fair! Those five cases all happened when David Bechub was away, with loads of alibis to back him up," Matthew interrupted between mouthfuls. "My father and the entire unit worked on that for months. Maybe there's a serial killer trying to frame David, but I can't see how he could've done it when he was miles away from Ravensbrooke."

Erick continued running his hands through his hair, looking frantic. "Listen, Anne, David isn't a good person, and this project isn't what it seems. Just quit it. We won't sign the agreement. I know I might seem like an asshole right now, but I'll do everything in my power to stop this, okay?"

I glared at him, setting my beer mug down with a clank. "Well, then I hope we never see each other again, Mr. Erick. And for your information, we don't need you to sign an agreement. If the town council says it's the best thing for Ravensbrooke, it will happen whether you like it or not." I was fuming as I grabbed Matthew, dug through my pockets, and slammed some money on the table. "This is for the food. I wish we don't see each other again, Erick."

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