Page 65 of Cursed By Fate

I’d originally intended to talk to one of the island vampires, but with the speed at which gossip traveled, I thought it best to avoid anyone local. The loners like Knox and Laurel Oakes, the local druid, were safe bets, but anybody who socialized regularly was too big of a risk.

I met Cowboy outside Gallery Espresso coffee shop on Bull Street. Cowboy’s real name was Nicolas Araya Calvo. Cal somehow morphed into Cowboy, and the Chilean vampire subsequently adopted a sense of style to match his nickname.

“It’s crowded inside,” the vampire said. “Why don’t we grab ours to go and sit outside where it’s quiet?”

He guessed rightly that I wouldn’t want our conversation to be overheard.

“Sounds good.”

We sat at a table for two overlooking the square. The air was thick with humidity, even the moss on the tree branches appeared heavier. A lone saxophonist played the theme song from Jurassic Park. Interesting choice.

“Just the two of us. I’m intrigued,” Cowboy said.

“You have information that might be helpful to a security issue I’m working on.”

He took a long drink of his coffee, leaving a foam mustache across his upper lip that somehow didn’t make him less intimidating. “A vampire-specific issue, I take it.”

“Not exactly.”

His eyebrows inched up toward the brim of his hat. “Did the monster end up on your shores?”

“No, the only thing on our shores are baby loggerhead turtles.”

“Lucky you,” he said.

“Any more sightings on Whitemarsh?”

“The creature’s laying low. We have teams on rotation, scouting the area for any sign of the monster or a nest. Nothing so far.”

“And no sign of Yume?”

Cowboy pressed his lips together. “I think Ben is going to have to accept that his wife isn’t coming back. Best we can hope for is to find her remains so he can hold a proper burial.”

A widower and a father in a single day. Poor Ben.

Cowboy drummed his fingers on the outside of his cup. “No monsters. No vampire issues. Still hazy on why you wanted to meet with me. It isn’t more fae, is it?”

“No, thank the gods.”

“You and me both. I have no interest in seeing another Coranian in this lifetime or any other.”

“I don’t think we’ve seen the last of them, unfortunately,” I said.

“Me neither, especially when Vale has a team searching for the tablet pieces. They won’t like the competition.”

An ancient treaty had been chiseled onto a stone tablet, granting the fae the right to the mortal realm. The treaty and the tablet were later broken. During the Old War, the gods and the Fates learned of a prophecy that said the fae would reclaim their lands when the pieces of the tablet were joined together once more. The broken pieces were then distributed and hidden around the world to prevent the fae’s return.

“Speaking of competition”—Cowboy showed off his fangs with a smile— “why aren’t you having coffee with Vale right now?”

“There’s no competition.”

“Didn’t think so.” The smile remained in place. He was savoring this moment. “Lay it on me, Medusa.”

“There’s a werewolf on Evermore, a recent addition. He’s basically declared himself the new alpha of the patchwork pack.” I paused. “That’s what they call themselves because they all come from different packs on the mainland.”

“There was no alpha already?” Cowboy asked.

“Knox is sort of the unofficial alpha, but he doesn’t want the title.”