“Yes, ma’am.” Cam and John said. They stared at one another across the condo, surprised they’d say the same thing at the same time.
“That’s better.” Ginga said, secretly pleased that they found something in common, even if it was awkward. “Awkward” was an improvement over a cleaver in the dark.
“What are you doing in my home?” John regained enough of his wits and sight to ask.
“We…” Cam began.
“We came to talk you about all of the things that have been happening in the past twenty-four hours.” Ginga said, cutting her husband off in mid thought. “It also seemed like a good idea to get to know you a little better.”
“So, you decided to appear out of nowhere and hang out in my house until I got home? Don’t you people need an invitation or something?”
“No, son. That’s vampires. We can show up as long as we’ve met you in person.” Cam replied. Ginga punched him. “Ow!”
“We should have knocked, Cam.”
“Yes, but it is just a little late for that now.” He rubbed his arm and turned his attention back to the man who might be his future son-in-law. “I’m sorry. It was my idea to wait for you, instead of knocking on the door once you’d made yourself comfortable.”
“Mr. Pendy, based on my day so far, I don’t like your decision-making skills. You wiped our memories.” John tested the balance of the cleaver in his hand. Young Mr. Salvati did good work. “You’ve invaded my home. What will your third, and most interesting (I’m sure), decision be?”
Ginga could see that the discussion could go downhill very quickly if anything else was screwed up. What else could she do? She made a decision.
“Cam, why don’t you go back home? John and I can talk.”
“What? The lad is waving a cold-iron meat cleaver around! Are you out of your mind?” Cam was stunned she’d suggested such a thing. His eyebrows were raised so high they nearly met his hairline.
“Husband, the man is annoyed with you, not with me. Am I right, John?”
“That’s broadly true, yes.”
“See?” She caressed her disturbed spouse’s cheeks. “Just run along, and I’ll be home before you know it.”
“He might kill you.” Cam whispered.
“Yes. He might kill both of us. Now, shut the hell up, and wait for me at home.” She replied with a whisper in hopes John wouldn’t hear.
Cam shot John a dirty look, grimaced at his wife one last time, and disappeared without fanfare.
“I am going to have trouble adjusting to that.” John said.
“Adjusting to what?”
“On TV and in books, supernatural beings have sound effects or some kind of light show when they appear and disappear. You all just vanish, silently.”
“Oh,” Ginga nodded, “that’s the difference between fact and fiction… same as it always is. Now, John, will you sit and talk with me?”
John nodded, and offered her something to drink from the extensive list in his head. She smiled, and told him a glass of water would be lovely. He nodded, poured two glasses, and walked into the living room to join his surprise guest.
Ginga took the glass from him, and watched him settle into the chair beside the couch. Her daughter had interesting taste. John Frost was hardly the painfully glamorous type. He was solid, rather than lean. In some ways, he reminded her of Cam in his younger days. Not beautiful, but loyal and reliable to a fault… as sure as the seasons… with hands that bore the scars of work.
“Just so you know, John. Etty is dead serious. She believes she’s in love with you, and that you are her match. How do you feel about all of this madness?”