Yesterday's Demon

By Elizabeth Myles

“Can yesterday’s demon be the hero of today?”

**Yesterday’s Demon is book 3 in the Sharpest Kiss series, but it can be read as a stand-alone story.**

She’s got a talking dog, a magic rock, a supernatural mystery to solve, and a hot friend determined to make her his.

Can an ex-vampire girl find love and redemption after more than nine centuries of iniquity...or will her dark secret doom everything she’s ever longed for?

Marta has a big secret. She may look like a teenager, but she’s really almost a thousand years old.

For centuries, she existed as a vampire, but now she’s just a normal human girl again, stripped of all her supernatural powers and many of her memories. But whether she remembers it or not, she knows she used to be a monster. She did a lot of horrible things in her past. She’s determined to spend what’s left of her human life trying to make amends by helping other people in trouble, especially in cases where her knowledge of the paranormal might come in handy.

When her friend Harris calls on her, asking for her help finding his college roommate’s missing sister, Marta agrees to open an investigation. Dark magic might be involved in the young girl’s disappearance, but Marta’s confident she can unravel the case; she knows a few spells herself, and she’s got an enchanted talking dog and a psychic stone to help her out. What worries her most is the brand-new set of human hormones raging through her system, making it next to impossible to keep things with Harris strictly platonic.

Marta may have made the mistake of locking lips with Harris once or twice before, but she knows it would be wrong to ever let it happen again—and certainly to take things any further. Her past is just too ugly, and her new life is too bizarre and dangerous. Harris is better off staying far away from her.

If only he didn’t seem so intent on doing just the opposite.

And if only his piercing green eyes and sultry kisses weren’t so incredibly irresistible...

MORE ABOUT THE BOOK:

Yesterday’s Demon is a complete novel of 80,000 words.

It is narrated in third person from Marta’s point of view.

It is Book 3 in the Sharpest Kiss series but can be enjoyed as a stand-alone story.

If you would prefer to read the other books first, the order is:

#1: The Sharpest Kiss (Lucy and Aaron)
#2: Back to Bite You (Jessica and Nathan)
#3: Yesterday’s Demon (Marta and Harris)

Reader advisory: Yesterday’s Demon is a kisses only romance. It contains mild cursing and mild sensuality.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elizabeth Myles
• Release date: Dec 12, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005806699

Elizabeth Myles

Elizabeth Myles enjoys reading and writing lighthearted romance. Her favorite stories feature sweet heroines and noble heroes. She is a graduate of Lone Star College-Tomball and the University of Houston. Her prize-winning short fiction appeared several times in Inkling: The Creative Arts Magazine of LSC-Tomball, and her novel, Fear and Laundry, received a notable entry honor in the teen category of Shelf Unbound Magazine's Writing Competition for Best Independently Published Book. Shelf Unbound subsequently included Fear and Laundry in a special contest issue spotlighting the work of “some of today’s best indie authors.”Elizabeth’s other works include the paranormal romantic comedy series The Sharpest Kiss and the contemporary/paranormal series Halloween Hearts.Elizabeth and her handsome husband, Steve, live and run together in Texas. When she is not writing, Elizabeth can be found reading, cooking, or baking, often while listening to Nine Inch Nails and other rock music. She enjoys watching sci-fi and horror movies, and her favorite television shows are Supernatural and The X-Files. Connect with her at elizabethmyles.com, and for alerts about new releases, please sign up for her mailing list here: https://elizabethmyles.com/mailing-list/

Book preview

Copyright © 2020 Elizabeth Myles

Cover by Victoria Cooper.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living, dead, or undead, events or locales is purely coincidental.

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PROLOGUE

The Ames residence in Vintage Meadow Lake, a suburb of Houston, Texas

The first week of October

MARTA WAS RUNNING.

In this dream, she was always running.

In real life, she’d never had the opportunity to run. She had been abducted while she slept and then strapped down inside an iron box and hooked up to an agonizing machine. Later, she’d awakened inside a living nightmare that had then stretched on for nearly thirty years, with no place to hide and little hope for eventual freedom…

In this nightmare, however, she always ran.

And ran.

But it never did any good.

No matter how she drove herself, or which direction she chose to escape, she always found herself back inside the cage again.

Caught.

The darkness would press in around her, the needles would sink into her flesh, and Dorian’s evil magic would course through her veins, burning them like acid. She would struggle to break free, but the warlock’s minions would threaten her with further torture. She would scream until she went hoarse, but no one would hear her. It wasn’t until the lights flipped on and her eyes flew open that she would remember.

You’re not there anymore.

You’re free.

You’re alright.

Marta, you’re alright. It was only a dream, honey…Marta?

What-? Marta turned her head on the pillow and squinted into the sudden brightness. She saw a blond, bespectacled angel sitting on the edge of her bed. Lucy?

It’s me, sweetie. You’re okay now. You’re safe.

Marta propped herself up on one elbow. She took a steadying breath and glanced around, focusing on the array of familiar belongings cluttering her bedroom. Bookcases, posters, sewing machine and crafting supplies, dark clothing thrown over the back of a chair. Home, she thought, and curled her fingers in the bedsheets. I am home with Lucy. Safe. Her heartbeat began to settle, and her gaze fell on Lucy again. Was I crying out? she asked her.

Lucy’s smile was gentle, full of compassion. Little bit.

Oh…I must have been terribly loud for you to have heard me all the way over in your room. Lucy’s husband, Aaron, was a multi-millionaire. His and Lucy’s house was more of a mansion, and Marta’s suite was located down a long hallway from theirs, practically in a separate wing. I am so sorry.

No worries, it’s almost morning now, anyway. I’m only sorry you keep having these bad dreams. They’ve been pretty intense lately, haven’t they? I wonder why?

Marta scrubbed her hand over her face as she sat up. I have no idea. Nearly two years have passed since you and the others rescued me from Dorian’s filthy prison. Why should I still dream of it?

Lucy adjusted her glasses. Her mouth puckered. From what I saw of that place, it was horrible. I’d imagine there’s no set timetable on bouncing back from an experience that gruesome.

No, I suppose not. The thing was, Marta had been feeling better lately. Until a few months ago, she’d been free of the nightmares. She’d rarely dwelled on her imprisonment anymore, and her captor, Dorian, had faded into a murky shadow in the back of her mind. Had anyone asked, she’d have counted herself happy and perfectly content. But now, seemingly out of nowhere…

Can I get you a glass of water? Lucy was running her fingers through Marta’s long hair, smoothing a lock back from her clammy forehead. Or I could make you some tea. S’no trouble, really…

Marta watched her friend offer her another sleepy smile and felt guilt claw at her insides. Lucy was so sweet and understanding. She and Aaron were newlyweds, and they likely would have appreciated their privacy, but instead, they had taken Marta into their home and treated her like a member of their family. They’d had no reason to do so, other than that they were extraordinarily generous people. And for some reason they trusted her.

It’s Nathan they trust, Marta reminded herself, and he vouched for you.

Thinking of Nathan did nothing to alleviate Marta’s guilt. If anything, it made her feel worse. The Ameses weren’t the only people to whom Marta was now beholden. She also owed Nathan a huge debt she could never repay. Really, if she thought about it, she owed the entirety of humanity…

A tear slid down Marta’s cheek, and Lucy reflexively reached out to wipe it away.

Oh, sweetie, she clucked, there’s no need to cry. It’s all going to be okay, I promise. A baby’s wail cleaved through the end of her sentence, and she shot a look over her shoulder.

Marta shook her head and moaned, Wonderful, now I have awakened Charlotte as well.

It’s fine. Lucy patted Marta’s forearm. Aaron will get her.

Moments later, Marta heard footsteps in the hallway, and then Lucy’s husband stumbled into the room with them. He was bare chested, wearing pajama bottoms that rode precariously low, and cradling his bawling seven-month-old daughter in his sculpted arms. Hey, Marta, you alright over here, kid? You were screaming bloody murder.

Yes, Aaron, thank you. I am so sorry for waking the entire household. I am so sorry for so many things.

Don’t sweat it. He flashed her an affable grin as he raked his fingers through his sleep-tousled hair. Then he leaned against her dresser and yawned, cooing to the baby as he gently jostled her up and down.

The next moment, a Doberman came rushing into the bedroom. The excited canine dashed past Aaron’s legs and made straight for the bed. Bounding onto the mattress, he dragged his tongue across Marta’s cheek. Had another bad dream, huh? Sorry I wasn’t around to wake you up. Picked a bad time to make use of the doggy door, I guess.

Marta laughed in spite of herself. "That is alright, Cerberus, I am grateful you are here with me now. I am grateful that all of you are here." She hauled the talking dog into a hug, wondering where she would be without him, without Nathan, without the Ameses, and without the rest of her new extended family.

Dead, she thought, and the answer shot an icy cramp through her stomach. You would be dead. Dorian would have killed you a long time ago.

And in a way, Marta was grateful to Dorian, too. If the warlock hadn’t captured her and drained the evil out of her, she’d have remained a monster forever. Or at least until Nathan or his best friend, Kiefer, or some other crusader for good, had hunted her down and relieved her of her head. After all the harm Marta had perpetrated over the centuries, it was a fate she would have richly deserved.

Marta shuddered as she clung tighter to Cerberus’s neck, comforted by the beat of his warm pulse against her cheek. Behind him, in the dressing table mirror, she caught her reflection staring back at her with wide, sable-brown eyes. Her dark hair was sleek and glossy, hanging almost to the center of her back. Her nose was small and well-shaped, her lips full and rosy. She was nearly a thousand years old but looked only seventeen. When she spoke, it was with a teenager’s voice, but her diction was precise and formal, belonging to a bygone era.

She was both young and ancient at the same time.

A freak.

Still, she thought—as she did every time she awakened to another day in her new life—it is a miracle you are here today, isn’t it, and that you’ve been given another chance?

She heard Nathan’s voice answering in her head, saying, Take your new opportunity at life, Marta—take it and make it count.

She wanted to. More than anything, she wanted to. Instead, the only thing she ever seemed to accomplish was to make everyone around her worry themselves sick. Case in point: Lucy was now watching her with an apprehensive look.

With another guilty pang, Marta realized that more tears had leaked from her eyes. She wiped them away, straightened her spine, and mustered a smile. I will be alright, she assured Lucy. There is no need for you to fret over me any longer.

Lucy smiled back. She plucked a tissue from the box on Marta’s nightstand, passed it to her, and then looped her arm around her shoulders. Leaning her forehead against Marta’s temple and giving her an affectionate squeeze, she said, Oh, but don’t you know by now, honey? That’s what we do around here. We worry about each other. Because we’re a family. For better or for worse.

CHAPTER ONE

MARTA KNEW HER opinion might be biased, but she thought Charlotte Genevieve Ames was an exceptionally beautiful and charming baby. The child possessed keen, inquisitive eyes, a perky button nose, and a perfect cupid’s bow mouth. Had she been blond, she’d have been an exact miniature replica of Lucy, but instead she had Aaron’s chestnut-colored locks. The baby also shared her parents’ sweet, amiable nature—but she had a stubborn streak that was all her own.

Come along, then, Charlotte, Marta begged, circling the little hippopotamus spoon near her face, only a few more mouthfuls. Open up for the flying choo-choo.

The baby frowned and kept her tiny lips knotted tightly together.

Look, Marta tried again, pointing to her other babysitting charge. See how Geoffrey is being such a good boy and eating his Mum-Mum? One day, he will grow up to be big and strong. Would you not like to do the same? Hm?

Charlotte followed Marta’s pointing finger to where Geoffrey Lam sat in his highchair, swinging his feet contentedly and nibbling on a teething biscuit. The little boy was eighteen months old. His parents, Frankie and Missy, were good friends of Lucy and Aaron’s, and the Ameses thought of Geoffrey as their nephew. Marta only thought of him as a teensy saint in a race car print onesie. She couldn’t remember him ever giving her a hard time about anything, particularly eating, which he seemed to heartily enjoy.

Bah! Charlotte said and also pointed at her playmate.

Yes, Marta chuckled, that is right, you cannot let him have all the fun.

"Bah! Bah." Charlotte slapped the tray of her highchair with her open palms and bounced up and down in her seat. Then she giggled and opened her mouth wide.

With a happy gasp, Marta swept the utensil between the infant’s lips and dipped a spoonful of pureed yams into her mouth. "There’s my good girl. Good girl." The baby clapped her hands and smiled, heedless of the yams dribbling down her chin.

Marta was using a leopard-print burp cloth to blot away the baby’s mess when Lucy stepped into the kitchen with them. She looked elegant in a simple black dress and heels. Her flaxen hair was twisted into a chignon, and she wore a double strand of pearls and a matching bracelet and earrings. The crease between her large, whiskey-colored doe eyes told Marta she was hunting for something. That, and the way she was now circling the room, shuffling items around and peeking under piles of paper. Believe it or not, Marta, she sighed when she caught her watching her, I used to be ridiculously organized.

Marta assessed their surroundings. The kitchen was enormous and stylish, decked out with all the latest high-tech appliances, granite countertops, and white cabinetry with brushed steel hardware. Aside from a few toys scattered about, it was immaculate, practically ready to be showcased on HGTV. In fact, the Ameses’ entire house was always immaculate, and Lucy’s proficiency with a Dymo label maker would have made even Martha Stewart proud. You still are, Marta assured her with a smile.

Yeah? Lucy rested her fist on her hip. "Then why can’t I keep track of the simplest things sometimes? Like my purse. I swear I just had it."

You do seem unusually flustered today, Marta observed in a wry tone. Perhaps it is date night with Aaron that has put you in a tizzy?

Color crept into Lucy’s cheeks. She toyed with an earring and said, "Ha. Date night with Aaron can be flustering."

Even after almost two years of marriage?

"Heck yeah. Have you seen that guy? Babe city." She fanned herself.

Marta chuckled. Yes, he is a handsome specimen. Where are the two of you off to tonight, anyway? The theater again? Or perhaps the ballet? The Ameses co-owned and operated a local pub called The Stag and Cougar—which people around the neighborhood had promptly taken to calling The Staggering Cougar—but they never brought home a cent from the business. The earnings went to well-compensate their small staff of employees. Every month, any leftover profits were then faithfully divided among a handful of local food banks, educational programs, and homeless shelters. The Ameses themselves lived off of Aaron’s sizable inheritance, although they donated much of that, as well. They were always being invited to fundraisers, and a few times a month, they had tickets, usually to something artistic.

It’s another art opening, Lucy said. You know Harry from the Coog? His girlfriend, Rhonda, is a photographer. She lowered her voice to a scandalized whisper. She does semi-nude portraiture. Mostly of men. Some of them life-size.

Marta’s eyebrows lifted. Flustering indeed. Tell me, has she included Harry’s photo in her exhibit?

Marta!

What? I was only wondering.

That possibility hadn’t even occurred to me but, gosh, I hope not.

Why not? Harry is also quite the specimen.

Lucy’s eyes went round. No lie, girl, but…it could be a little awkward around the pub going forward, don’t you think? I mean, if I’ve seen one of my bartenders in his skivvies-?

Laughter bubbled out of Marta. Fair point. Oh, and do not hold me to it, but I believe I may have spotted your bag earlier, sitting on the table in the front hall.

Ooh! Lucy snapped her fingers and ran out to check for the purse. She came clattering back into the room with the bag under her arm and her eyes shining with relief. It was right where you said it was. Thanks! You know, Marta, you’re a godsend. What would we do ever without you?

Get more sleep, I would imagine. I apologize once again about my caterwauling so early this morning. I do hate to disturb you.

Aw, forget it. The bad dreams aren’t your fault. And you know we would never hold it against you.

Yes, I know that. But I still hold it against myself. Marta hated feeling like a burden. Unfortunately, it seemed to be happening more and more often these days, and not only because of her bad dreams. She had been living rent-free with Aaron and Lucy for nearly two years already, and although they were always insisting to her that they didn’t mind her presence in the least, she was convinced they were only being polite. Marta was determined to move out of their house and into her own apartment before she completely wore out her welcome here, all too aware that the Ameses were too nice to ever ask her to leave.

Uh-oh, Marta, Aaron said, I know that brooding look. You’re not thinking about packing up and abandoning us again, are you?

Lucy’s husband strode in from the hallway, straightening his necktie. Not a hair on his handsome head was out of place, and his dark, tailored suit fit his tall, leanly muscled frame to perfection.

Good evening, Aaron, Marta said with a smile. My, don’t you and Lucy make quite the dashing pair tonight? And to answer your question, no, I still have not saved up quite enough money to move out on my own yet, if that is what you mean. It seems the three of you are all stuck with me for at least a while longer.

"Stuck? What do you mean, stuck? Lucy stood beside Charlotte’s highchair, stroking her fingers through the baby’s curls, fruitlessly attempting to tame her cowlick. Aren’t we always telling you? Aaron and I love having you live here with us. If anything, he and I are getting the better end of the deal, what with all the babysitting you’re willing to do. And at such a reasonable price, too!"

Marta couldn’t help but smile again. Not too long ago, she couldn’t have imagined anyone tolerating her presence near their children, much less paying her to watch them—and then thanking her for it. She certainly wouldn’t have dreamed they’d call her a godsend.

My pleasure, she said. "Although, I would gladly pay you two—and the Lams—for the privilege of caring for these two little darlings."

She hadn’t known Geoffrey nearly as long, but Lucy and Aaron’s daughter had captured Marta’s heart from the moment she’d first held her in her arms at Vintage Meadow Lake Hospital. If Marta could have, she’d have toted the baby on her hip twenty-four hours a day, but with Lucy usually home, it wasn’t necessary. Marta only took over with Charlotte when the Ameses ventured out on one of their excursions.

Really? Aaron leaned down to kiss each baby on the forehead. Why didn’t you say so sooner, Marta? I don’t know about Frankie and Missy, but Lucy and I would have stopped paying you months ago and started charging you instead.

Aaron, Lucy said.

He smiled like a rogue, swept his wife into his arms, and captured her lips in a kiss.

We’ll be home early, Marta, Lucy giggled as Aaron let her back up. Call us if you need anything.

They hurried out of the kitchen, and a minute later, Marta heard the front door opening and closing. She turned her attention back to the two wide-eyed babies waiting in their chairs, watching her with questioning expressions. She put her hands on her hips. Well, Charlotte, Geoffrey, I suppose it is just you and me, then. Another exciting night at home, eh? She picked up the spoon and tried feeding Charlotte another bite, but the baby still wasn’t having it.

Just them and you? What am I, chopped liver? Cerberus trotted into the kitchen and stopped beside his dog food dish. He cocked his head, casting a longing look into the empty bowl before sending Marta a disappointed frown.

Marta set aside the spoon again, giving up hope of getting any more yams into Charlotte tonight. She wiped her hands on another burp cloth and addressed the dog. Not at all, Cerberus. Forgive me for neglecting to mention you. I do hope you know how dearly I value your friendship. After all, you are my closest companion.

Aw, you mean that?

Of course I mean it. Marta knew that Lucy and everyone else in her adoptive family genuinely cared about her, but…sometimes she felt as if the enchanted dog was the only one with the capacity to truly understand her. Like Marta, Cerberus had also once been freed from a dank, supernatural prison. Like her, as far as anyone knew, he was the only creature of his kind in existence.

In other words, he was a freak, too.

Cool. The dog wagged his stumpy tail. Does that mean I can have one of your won tons when they get here? Should be any second now. I sense Ernesto coming up the driveway.

I did not order won tons this time, Marta said with a wink, I ordered eggless rolls, but yes, of course you can have a few. Cerberus’s appetite was insatiable and extended to every manner of cuisine under the sun. Luckily for him, his supernatural metabolism let him eat just about anything he wanted. Unlike a regular dog, he usually didn’t have to worry about human food making him sick. And is Ernesto truly here already? she asked. That was fast.

A knock sounded at the door, and Marta sprang out of her chair to answer it. On the other side stood a rangy, dark-haired young man wearing jeans, a green polo shirt, and a green baseball cap with the words Mexi-Wok stitched in glittery red and white script across the front.

"Hola, pequeña," he greeted her, and then he held up a plastic sack stuffed with aromatic takeout containers.

Marta’s stomach growled as she let him in. "Hola, Ernesto. Am I glad to see you!"

"Same here, as always. And can I just say that you look muy caliente—also as always." His dark gaze ran up and down the length of her body, and a flirtatious grin hitched up one side of his mouth.

Marta shook her head as she shut the door. She was used to Ernesto’s compliments because he never failed to offer them, but they still bewildered her. When Lucy and the others had found Marta, she’d been a wasted, twiggy little thing. Since her rescue, she had grown a couple of inches, and her figure had filled out, but she still didn’t feel particularly attractive. Certainly not when she was barefoot, dressed in a spotty t-shirt and denim cutoffs, and had her hair slicked back into a messy ponytail. I am a disaster, Ernesto. Covered in baby food. Some of it regurgitated. As always.

Looks nice on you. Makes you look like a mom.

And that is a good thing?

Sure. I like babies, too. Want a bunch of my own someday. In my book, maternal vibes are a huge plus. He winked as he sauntered closer to the highchairs. "Buenos dias, angeles. What do you guys think, hm? Wouldn’t Marta make a good mommy? And a nice esposa for Ernesto someday, once he finishes his engineering degree?"

If Marta hadn’t known better, she’d have thought he’d trained both babies to play along with him. As if in answer to his question, they turned toward her, grasping with their chubby hands and letting out a stream of cheerful babble.

Ernesto shot a delighted look over his shoulder at her. See what I mean? The experts agree with me!

It was a sweet performance, but Marta mentally shrugged it off. She knew if Ernesto had any idea what a horrible creature she’d once been, she would be the last person he would want as the mother of his children. Or even as a delivery customer, most likely.

She unplugged her laptop and moved it from the table to the countertop, clearing a space for him to put the food. I apologize, Ernesto, but I was not expecting you so soon. May I ask you to wait here a moment while I ready your payment?

Ernesto’s eyes lit with amusement.

"May I ask you to wait here a moment while I ready your payment? he echoed, mimicking her cultured tones. Geez, I really get a kick out of the way you talk, you know that?"

She smiled. You might have mentioned it once or twice. Like everyone else who wasn’t part of Marta’s inner circle, Ernesto thought she only talked funny because she had learned English at a boarding school in Europe, and not because she’d been born during the Middle Ages and, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake her stilted speech patterns or remember to consistently use contractions like a modern person.

The delivery man placed his hand over his heart. "For you, mi amor? I’d wait forever. Take your time." He dug a dog biscuit out of his pocket and called for Cerberus, who eagerly came running to accept the treat.

Marta went to grab her purse. She was counting bills out of her wallet when her laptop trilled. Harris! she thought, and nearly dropped the money. Her heart began to beat faster in anticipation of her chat with him, even as she wondered why he was calling so much earlier than usual.

Ernesto, can you answer that for me? Simply click ‘accept’ and tell him that I will be with him momentarily.

"Your wish is my command, mi amor. She heard the delivery man hit a button on the keyboard and say, Hey, man, Marta’s busy. She’ll be just a minute, eh?"

In a curt tone, Harris demanded, Who are you?

Ernesto Chavez. Friend of Marta’s. Who are you?

Her boyfriend, that’s who.

Marta raised her gaze to the screen and saw Harris glowering at Ernesto from his messy bedroom nearly two hundred miles away in Austin, Texas.

Ernesto sent Marta an anguished look. You’ve got a boyfriend? Since when?

As always, the sight of Harris made Marta giddy. Those fiery emerald eyes, that lush golden hair. Glancing at his sensuous lips sent heat rushing through Marta’s veins, and all she could think about was what an incredible kisser he was. But she did her best to hide it.

Since never, she replied in an airy tone. Harris is just a friend. And then she looked away before she could see the familiar annoyance and pain register on his rugged features.

"Ooooh. Ernesto brought his fist to his mouth and hissed into the webcam. Heck of a burn there, buddy, but I feel you. She won’t go out with me, either."

I’m not your buddy, Harris muttered. Hey, Marta?

Be with you in a moment, Harris. She hurried to the delivery man and crumpled a wad of cash into his hand. Keep the change, Ernesto, and thank you for getting here so quickly.

"Absolutely. Aim to please. I’ll just let myself out, si?" When she nodded, he tipped his cap at her. Hasta luego, pequeña. He gave her another slow once-over before finally leaving.

She waited until the door had closed behind him to turn her attention back to the computer. Harris, why are you calling me at this hour? I told you I would be babysitting tonight. I was not expecting to hear from you until later.

Obviously.

What is that supposed to mean?

Who was that guy? Why was he in your kitchen?

I should think his uniform would make the answer to that quite plain. She boosted herself onto a barstool and dragged the takeout toward herself. He works for Mexi-Wok. He was delivering my dinner.

Mexi-Wok?

Mexican and Chinese fusion. Indescribably delicious. And their menu offers a wide variety of plant-based dishes. Marta hadn’t eaten meat in well over a year. She’d decided she had caused enough suffering throughout her existence. She knew there was no hope of balancing the scales where she was concerned, but she was willing to do just about anything to at least tip them a little further in the direction of compassion—even if it was only toward animals.

He said he was your friend, Harris groused.

And so he is…Why are you looking at me that way? I am allowed to have friends, am I not? She lifted an eco-friendly carton out of the bag and peeked inside. The tempting sights and scents of vegetable eggless rolls and spicy lentil enchiladas wafted out, making her mouth water.

Sure. But that better be all he is.

Meaning?

"Meaning he isn’t your boyfriend or anything."

Do not be silly. He told you himself that there is nothing going on between the two of us. And did I not just state very plainly that I do not have a boyfriend?

You sure did. Apparently, I’m ‘just a friend.’ That you happen to lock lips with passionately every time I come over for a visit. I noticed you didn’t tell your ‘friend’ Ernesto about that part.

Is this why you called? To revisit this same tedious conversation again? But she asked it with a playful lilt.

No. He propped his elbow on his desk and massaged his forehead.

Marta pushed aside her takeout and peered at him. Harris, what is the matter? You sound stressed. Not only did he sound stressed, he looked it. His green eyes were dull, and his handsome mouth was turned down at the corners. He didn’t seem at all like his usual happy-go-lucky self—a realization that made Marta’s heart hitch with worry. Something told her that whatever was bothering him was serious.

Harris let out an exhausted sigh and swept his hair back from his eyes. Yeah, there’s some stuff going down around here. I wanted to talk to you about it.

Bad stuff?

"Definitely not good. It’s my