Read Online Chasing Daybreak (Dark of Night Book 1) by Ranae Glass - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Ranae Glass
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louder, and scents stronger. It was why most people believed that vampires couldn’t walk around in the daylight. They could. Direct sunlight just really hurt their eyes. Shane had told me it got worse as a vampire got older. The really ancient ones didn’t go out during the day at all. Besides being super paranoid that they might burst into flames from a paper cut, the heat, smells, and light easily overwhelmed their systems.
What could I say? That I was feeling jealous that my ex-fiancé was shacking up in my house with his trampy new girlfriend? Yeah, like I’d admit to that. When hell froze over.
I took a sip of my coffee. “I tried to knock.”
“Well, you missed,” he said flatly.
The car was right where Tyger said it would be. Of course, the hubcaps were missing. I shook my head, not surprised.
The great thing about Shane was that most of the time, we didn’t even have to speak. A look, a gesture, and we could read each other like books. Of course, sometimes that came back to bite me. Like right then.
He must have seen me shake my head because he put a hand on my shoulder. “That’s what you get when you work with criminals.”
I wanted to say something, to defend my childhood friend. But what could I say, really? Shane was right. So I did what I always did when Shane was right and I was… less right. I flipped him off.
Lisa Welch drove a sickeningly cute VW Beetle in bright yellow. The plates read Abug8me . Shane and I donned our blue latex gloves and got to work. The doors were unlocked so we just slipped inside. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply while I riffled through the contents of the glove box. Nothing but the registration, an insurance card, a gum wrapper, and a small bottle of sunblock.
Shane shook his head. He wasn’t getting anything.
“Let’s try the trunk,” I offered, popping the latch.
We got out and circled around front.
Shane leaned forward, pulled the hatch up, and inhaled. His eyes flew open behind his dark shades. “This is the smell from the purse. Perfume. Gasoline. And definitely vampire.”
He took another long sniff.
“There was a vampire in the trunk?”
He shook his head. “The scent isn’t so much inside the trunk as peripheral. On the edges. Like he—or maybe she, I guess—was putting something in the trunk. It’s very subtle.”
“Would you recognize the scent if you smelled it again?” I shut the trunk and turned to look at him.
“Oh yes. It’s pretty distinctive.”
I didn’t ask what he meant by that as I locked the car. We took off our gloves, tossing them in my backseat as we headed to our next stop.
Shane didn’t really need to go to the antique store with me, but I’d decided to make him suffer a little. Sure, I could have taken him back to the office, but I wasn’t feeling particularly generous towards His Paleness , so I made him tag along.
The Broken Plow was nestled between a quilting supply shop and the post office, only a few blocks from my mother’s bakery. I considered stopping over there for lunch after we scoped the antique store out, then briefly wondered if I was that ticked off at Shane. I mean, threatening him with holy water was funny—subjecting him to my mother was just mean.
The bell above the door jingled pleasantly, announcing our entrance. The store was set up sort of like a library with rows of shelves on either side of a central walkway. Only instead of books, the shelves held various knickknacks and baubles. Stacks of old magazines covered in dust, ornate plates, teacups, vinyl record albums, toys, jewelry, radios—if you could name it, it was probably on a shelf.
Shane went rigid beside me. His shoulders pulled back, his jaw tightened, and the muscles in his neck and arms tensed. I could feel it radiating off him in waves of cold, like I’d just opened the refrigerator door. I swore the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees. Putting a hand on his shoulder, I gave him a questioning
What could I say? That I was feeling jealous that my ex-fiancé was shacking up in my house with his trampy new girlfriend? Yeah, like I’d admit to that. When hell froze over.
I took a sip of my coffee. “I tried to knock.”
“Well, you missed,” he said flatly.
The car was right where Tyger said it would be. Of course, the hubcaps were missing. I shook my head, not surprised.
The great thing about Shane was that most of the time, we didn’t even have to speak. A look, a gesture, and we could read each other like books. Of course, sometimes that came back to bite me. Like right then.
He must have seen me shake my head because he put a hand on my shoulder. “That’s what you get when you work with criminals.”
I wanted to say something, to defend my childhood friend. But what could I say, really? Shane was right. So I did what I always did when Shane was right and I was… less right. I flipped him off.
Lisa Welch drove a sickeningly cute VW Beetle in bright yellow. The plates read Abug8me . Shane and I donned our blue latex gloves and got to work. The doors were unlocked so we just slipped inside. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply while I riffled through the contents of the glove box. Nothing but the registration, an insurance card, a gum wrapper, and a small bottle of sunblock.
Shane shook his head. He wasn’t getting anything.
“Let’s try the trunk,” I offered, popping the latch.
We got out and circled around front.
Shane leaned forward, pulled the hatch up, and inhaled. His eyes flew open behind his dark shades. “This is the smell from the purse. Perfume. Gasoline. And definitely vampire.”
He took another long sniff.
“There was a vampire in the trunk?”
He shook his head. “The scent isn’t so much inside the trunk as peripheral. On the edges. Like he—or maybe she, I guess—was putting something in the trunk. It’s very subtle.”
“Would you recognize the scent if you smelled it again?” I shut the trunk and turned to look at him.
“Oh yes. It’s pretty distinctive.”
I didn’t ask what he meant by that as I locked the car. We took off our gloves, tossing them in my backseat as we headed to our next stop.
Shane didn’t really need to go to the antique store with me, but I’d decided to make him suffer a little. Sure, I could have taken him back to the office, but I wasn’t feeling particularly generous towards His Paleness , so I made him tag along.
The Broken Plow was nestled between a quilting supply shop and the post office, only a few blocks from my mother’s bakery. I considered stopping over there for lunch after we scoped the antique store out, then briefly wondered if I was that ticked off at Shane. I mean, threatening him with holy water was funny—subjecting him to my mother was just mean.
The bell above the door jingled pleasantly, announcing our entrance. The store was set up sort of like a library with rows of shelves on either side of a central walkway. Only instead of books, the shelves held various knickknacks and baubles. Stacks of old magazines covered in dust, ornate plates, teacups, vinyl record albums, toys, jewelry, radios—if you could name it, it was probably on a shelf.
Shane went rigid beside me. His shoulders pulled back, his jaw tightened, and the muscles in his neck and arms tensed. I could feel it radiating off him in waves of cold, like I’d just opened the refrigerator door. I swore the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees. Putting a hand on his shoulder, I gave him a questioning
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