"And never see my parents again? Or Howell and Glynis?" She gave him an annoyed look. "You don't even want to see your younger brother and sister?"
Phil sighed. "This is my home now."
Brynley looked about the room. "Where's Vanda? I thought you two were inseparable."
"She wanted to be alone for a while with her sister. I tried calling her, but she didn't answer."
"Great. She finally saw the light."
Phil cocked his head. "What did you say to her?"
"I explained who you are. I told her you have a great future ahead of you."
"She said that to me twice."
Brynley shrugged. "I guess she understands where you belong now. You'll be an important leader someday."
"Maybe. In about three hundred years," Phil growled. "Did you tell her that?"
"You're better off without her. She can't even give you children."
"You think I care?" Phil shouted, then realized everyone in the waiting room was looking at him. He lowered his voice. "I love her, Bryn. I'm going to marry her. And there's not a damned thing you can do about it."
Brynley glowered at him. "You could have everything. Wealth, power, and prestige. You would give it up for a vampire woman—"
"With purple hair," Phil finished her sentence. "Yes, you bet I would."
He left the waiting room and paced around the hall. He could have Phineas teleport him to Howard's cabin. And then what would he do? How could he convince Vanda that she was the perfect woman for him?
She'd always been the one for him. Years ago, when he'd rebelled against his father and ended up at the townhouse, he'd met Vanda for the first time. With her purple hair and bat tattoo, he'd known right away that he'd met another rebel. Another outcast. They were two of a kind, both hiding a passionate, angry beast deep within.
"Phil, how are you?"
He turned to see Father Andrew coming down the hall. "I'm fine, Father. How are you?"
"Good. I've been meaning to talk to you." The priest pulled out his day-timer and thumbed through the pages. "I was researching Vanda's family to see if I could locate her sister."
"We found her. Vanda's with her now. They're working things out."
Father Andrew glanced up, smiling. "Excellent." He tore a page from his day-timer and handed it to Phil. "I thought you might find this interesting."
Phil read it, and his heart expanded in his chest. This was the perfect way to win Vanda back. "Thank you, Father."
"You're welcome, my son." He patted Phil on the back. "So will I be officiating another wedding soon?"
Phil gulped. "You knew?"
The priest's eyes twinkled. "That you were engaging in forbidden acts? Don't worry. I believe in forgiveness."
Forgiveness. If Vanda could forgive her sister, maybe it was time he forgave his father. After all, if his dad hadn't banished him, he wouldn't have ended up in the Vampire World. He wouldn't have found Vanda. "I believe in forgiveness, too. And love."
Father Andrew smiled. "Then you are truly blessed."
Three nights later…
Vanda looked up when Phineas teleported into the cabin with a box. "Oh, you brought us some food. Thank you." She'd called Connor a few hours before, asking him to please send some bottled blood.
She wasn't ready to return to the city yet. She and Marta had more than fifty years of memories to catch up on. And according to Connor, Casimir was still somewhere in America, and she was still on his hit list.
He would want Marta dead, too, so it was better for them to stay hidden at Howard's cabin. Besides, Vanda knew she wasn't ready to be seen in public. She still broke into tears at unexpected times. She still ached with loneliness for Phil.
He'd stopped calling after that first night. She could only think that he had realized he was better off without her.
"Hey, sweetness." Phineas grinned at her as he set the box down on the kitchen counter. "Hey, dudette." He nodded at Marta.
"Hi, Dr. Phang." Marta ran to look in the box. "Did you bring any Chocolood? I love that stuff."
Vanda smiled. Her sister seemed to be adapting well to synthetic blood and Vampire Fusion Cuisine.
"Here you go." Phineas handed a bottle of Chocolood to Marta. "Can you get the rest of this stuff put away? I have a top secret mission to go on."
"Really?" Marta unloaded bottles from the box. "What kind of mission?"
"The sort of mission that requires the expertise of the Love Doctor." Phineas sauntered over to Vanda. "Don't worry, dudette. I'll be right back."
"What?" Vanda started when Phineas grabbed her. "What are you doing?"
Everything went black.
Vanda stumbled, and Phineas steadied her.
"Okay, wolf-bro. Mission accomplished." Phineas gave Phil a knuckle pound, then teleported away.
"What is going on?" Vanda looked at Phil, then around them. "Where are we? In a closet?" She frowned at the shelves filled with antiseptic cleansers and dust cloths.
Phil touched her shoulder. "I had to see you, Vanda."
"In a closet?"
He grinned. "I had to tell you how much I adore you. I love you. I refuse to live one more night without you."
Her heart squeezed in her chest. "But you have a great future—"
"Yes, with you."
Vanda pressed a hand to her chest. "You're destined to be a great leader of your people."
"Maybe, in about three hundred years. My sister wasn't entirely up front about the timeline."
"Oh." Vanda's heart raced. He still loved her. He still wanted her. And he could live for hundreds of years.
He smiled. "I want to show you something."
"In a closet?"
With a chuckle, he opened the door. "I asked Phineas to teleport you to the closet so your arrival wouldn't look suspicious."
He led her down a plain white hall. Their footsteps echoed on the gleaming linoleum floor. The smell of cleansers was heavy in the air.
"Where are we?" she asked.
"Cleveland." He led her toward some double swinging doors. "This is a retirement home."
"Sheesh, Phil, I'm not that old."
He chuckled and squeezed her hand. "I missed you."
She frowned at him. "You didn't call me."
"I was waiting for the perfect day. Today, they're having a party, and I wanted you to see it." He opened the double doors. "This is the recreation room."
She noted the table with a big birthday cake and a bowl of punch. Mortals milled about, chatting and laughing. Some children pranced around the table, admiring the cake and trying to sneak tastes of the icing. An elderly woman with a cap of gray curls shooed them away, laughing.
Vanda frowned. "I don't know any of these people."
Phil dragged her forward. "I want you to meet the birthday boy. He's eighty-one years old."
Vanda spotted an old man sitting in an armchair. He was looking down at the little girl in his lap. His face was lined, his head bald on top. He held the little girl with wrinkled, age-spotted hands.
"You want a piece of cake, Pawpaw?"
"Yes, Emily, that would be lovely."
The little girl squirmed off his lap and ran to the table. The old man lifted his face to watch her, and he smiled.
Vanda gasped. Those blue eyes. Her gaze flitted over him quickly and spotted the numbers tattooed on his forearm.
Jozef.
She stumbled back. Her heart lurched. She covered her mouth with a shaky hand.
Phil held her shoulders, steadying her.
"Jozef," she whispered. A flood of tears came to her eyes.
"He survived the war," Phil whispered. "He immigrated here in 1949 and married a few years later. He has four children, ten grandchildren, and three great-grandchildren."
Vanda turned away and furiously wiped at the tears streaming down her face. "I can't let them see me cry. Not with my pink tears." Oh God, she was actually related to all these people.