13	THE SECOND WORST

THE BANGING WAS NOT IN HER HEAD, Ara realized, even though it sure sounded like it was in her head, because she could feel her head throbbing, but that heavy thumping that had escalated to a barrage was actually the sound of a fist knocking on her door. She dragged herself out of bed and opened the door a crack to find a pale yellow eye staring back at her. She jumped back. “Edon, what the fuck? I’m off duty,” she groused, unlatching the chain and letting him inside. He was holding a brown paper bag and two cups of coffee in a cardboard carrying tray.

“Venators are never off duty. Haven’t you learned that by now?” he asked, entering the room and shoving one of the coffees her way.

She accepted it, took a sip, and was glad to find it was made with a copious amount of milk and sugar. “Thanks,” she said, shutting the door behind him.

Edon took a slurp from his cup and looked her up and down as he dug into the bag and pulled out a cruller. “Maybe you should think about putting some clothes on?”

Ara looked down and realized she had answered the door wearing only her black tank top and underwear. “Didn’t take you for a prude,” she mimicked. She walked toward the alcove where the bed was hidden and rescued a pair of sweatpants from a dirty pile on the floor. “What?” she asked, when she walked back to the main room to find Edon shaking his head at her.

“God, Scott, you really tied one on last night, huh?”

“What do you mean? Ouch, my head hurts,” she groaned, closing her eyes.

“You’re having what the mortals call a hangover. Comes from drinking too much alcohol. Told you to drink some water with each cocktail, but you wouldn’t listen.”

“Alcohol isn’t supposed to affect vampires,” she said, rooting through the brown paper bag he had brought and picking out a jelly doughnut. It was sticky and sugary and exactly what the doctor ordered.

“Riiight.” Edon clicked his tongue. “What other fairy tales do you believe in? Santa? Easter bunny? No, tell me, I’m curious.”

“Shut up! It’s common knowledge that vampires can eat and drink whatever we want and it doesn’t affect us.”

“Seen Lennox lately?”

“So he’s gained a few,” Ara said. She thought about it and wondered if Edon might have a point—and if so, maybe having another doughnut wasn’t the best idea. Then she decided she didn’t care; she had other, more important things to worry about than what she ate. “I’ve never had one before. A hangover, I mean. I see why mortals complain about it all the time. It’s awful.”

“Maybe you’ve never had so much to drink before,” he said reasonably. “You were putting them away last night.”

“Or maybe there was something else in the drinks?” she asked.

“Or maybe you’re just a lightweight.”

“Fuck you.”

“Gladly.”

She stared at him, a half-eaten doughnut shoved in her mouth, speechless for once and unsure of how to respond. It had been a while since anyone had noticed she was a girl, and the last time it had happened hadn’t turned out all that great for her, come to think about it.

“I’m kidding. Don’t get too excited. You’re not my type.” He wiped the edges of her lip with a napkin, showing her that it was caked with powder. “Where’s the garbage?” he asked, balling up the bag and his empty coffee cup.

“Over there,” she said, motioning to a dark corner of the galley kitchen.

Edon opened the garbage bin and made a face. “Jeez, think about cleaning up a little, will you?” he said, as he pulled the overflowing trash bag out of the can, pulled the corners up, and tied them together. He moved to the sink and began to wash the dishes, running hot soap and water over the crusted pots and pans. “How long have these been in here? You’re lucky you don’t have bugs.”

“Go ahead, make yourself at home,” she muttered. “I’m going to take a shower.”

When she came out of the bathroom, he had taken out the garbage, wiped down the counters, stacked the dishes, and was kneeling on the floor wiping down the linoleum. He looked up at her and showed her the huge ball of gray fuzz he had peeled from the walls. “This is disgusting. It’s called being a grown-up, Scott. Try it sometime. You live like an animal. What are you, depressed or something? This is not a sign of a healthy mind.”

“Tough talk from a wolf,” she said grimly, even if his shot had hit the mark. She had been feeling a little low, she thought, and had sort of let things slide around here since… well… she didn’t want to think about it. Her apartment was so much nicer now that it was clean. Edon was a puzzle. He looked like a deadbeat, but he obviously didn’t live like one.

“Wolf dens are cleaner than this cesspit. If we’re going to work together, you’re going to have to keep a better house,” he scolded, putting away the dustpan and the broom. “You don’t even own a vacuum. Not even a handheld.”

“Edon, why are you here, by the way? It’s our night off. Unless you’re freelancing as a maid on the side.”

He looked sheepish. “Sorry. Chief found out what we were up to last night—” he said. “And he wants to see you in his office.”

“Shut the door,” Sam said, closing the venetian blinds on the interior windows so they could have privacy. Ara noticed a few of her colleagues shooting curious glances her way, and she flushed. She would never live down the past, and she hated the fact that there was now this awkwardness between them.

“What’s up, Chief?”

Sam perched at the end of the table. “I’m disappointed in you, Ara.”

She felt the flush on her face turn to a burn.

“I understand you guys need to let off some steam, but trashing a bar, harassing humans, and passing out is not condoned by this office.” He coughed into his palm. “Bloody shots?”

“It was all in good fun,” she said sullenly. Everyone else was doing it that night—even the untouchable Deming Chen, she wanted to add, but didn’t.

“Right.” He sighed. “If a witch didn’t own the Holiday, we’d be in trouble. But thankfully she’s the understanding type.”

“Like you,” she said.

He frowned. “Look, after everything that happened, I can’t give you any breaks, Ara, and you know exactly why. Besides, your record is abysmal,” he said, picking up a folder with her name on it. It was her Venator file, which included every infraction she had ever committed against the rules of the Coven. “Death Walks. Dream intrusion. Disrespecting a commanding officer. Noncompliance with standard safety procedures. Another black mark and you’ll be kicked off the team. I won’t be able to shield you this time.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, saluting him.

Sam sighed. “So far, what you’ve got is the second-worst conduct record in the history of the Venators.”

“Who was the worst?” she asked, honestly curious.

“Kingsley Martin,” he said with a hint of a smile. His former commander. Another legendary hero. Ara had quite enough of those.

“All right, get out of here.”

She did.