Summit at Sunset (Sunset Vampire Series, Book 3) (3 page)

On Sunday, Caleb fished some more, but released his catch. By evening, they loaded their SUV and made the long drive back to Atlanta. He dozed off mid-return and was still asleep by the time Katrina turned their vehicle into their estate driveway.

The estate was in the center of five acres of property, situated among similar acreage lots in an elite neighborhood addition in the small community of Mableton, just outside downtown Atlanta. The upscale Pine Valley addition sported heavily forested properties, of which Katrina’s lot bordered a scenic wooded park that sprawled throughout the addition.

The house itself was a two-story structure comprising over six thousand square feet of living space. Once parked in the cavernous multi-bay garage, Katrina gently roused Caleb, and he stretched with a wide-mouthed yawn as he exited the vehicle.

“I’ll unpack the SUV,” she offered. “You go get ready for bed. You have to teach in the morning, after all.”

There was no argument from him as he made his way through the garage and into the house. He felt exhausted, but thoroughly satisfied with their weekend getaway.

*    *    *    *

Life returned to an unremarkable pace until Wednesday, when Caleb received a cryptic text message from Katrina during one of his history lectures at Robert Fulton Community College in downtown Atlanta where he was a faculty member.

Shipment from Alton arriving this afternoon. Can you come home early?

Fortunately, his last class that day was just prior to lunch.

The delivery service truck pulled into the driveway less than half an hour after he arrived home. The wooden crate removed from the back of the panel van by the two deliverymen was quite large, in excess of six feet long. Caleb watched closely, directing the men to place the crate in the middle of one of the two empty car bays in the garage.

As the panel van departed, he stared at the crate with a perplexed expression. Then the garage door began its closing descent, and Katrina appeared beside him as a displacement of air rushed around him. The sunlight had barely cleared where she stood, and he peered up at her.

“In a hurry or something?” he asked with a smirk as he looked down at her pale bare feet sticking out from under her faded blue jeans.

Don’t get your feet burned in the process.

“Just curious,” she casually replied, although she intently stared at the crate before them.

“Got a crowbar?” he asked as he scanned the periphery of the garage.

Katrina lurched forward to pry the crate lid open effortlessly with her fingertips amidst a series of loud creaks as the nails were unceremoniously ripped from the wood. Caleb gawked at her as she dropped the lid aside on the concrete floor and playfully wiggled her fingers.

“Not necessary,” she quipped.

“Show-off,” he mumbled while removing the packing from the top of the open crate.

As he dug out more packing materials and laid them aside, he revealed a leather-covered couch, such as one would see in a hotel or office waiting area. However, it appeared worn and had a couple of small marks on the black leather covering. He instantly recognized it from their trip to London in March. It had to be the one he had found in the London Tube tunnels outside of an old entrance to the lower levels of the tunnel system. A number of vampires who had been spying on Alton were operating from there, and Caleb had been the one to discover them.

Katrina stepped forward and tore the side of the crate apart to gain easier access to the worn piece of furniture. She laid the crate section aside and scowled.

“I bet this is --”

“The couch from the Tube tunnels,” he interrupted excitedly, then picked up a small white envelope taped to the top of the couch. Written on the front was
Caleb
in a black gothic-like script.

“It’s in Alton’s hand,” she observed.

He opened the envelope and unfolded the letter inside, also written in the same style of script.

“Wow, really nice handwriting,” he commented as he began to read.

“That’s just
him
showing off,” she dryly observed as she studied the message from over his shoulder.

Caleb quirked his lips as he finished reading. “He’s got you pegged, Kat.”

But she was less amused and immediately groused, “Harrumph. Reading over your shoulder, indeed. And the couch is definitely
not
going in our living room.”

His right arm snaked around her waist, and he bent his face up to kiss her lightly on the neck. She lifted her head slightly to allow his lips easier access, but muttered, “What’s he up to?”

Such an unusually chummy letter for him
, she reflected.

While it was obvious to Caleb that his mate was displeased with Alton’s message, he was quite excited about the prospect of going to Europe. Slovenia, in particular, sounded exotic to him. Also, he had already come close to deciding not to teach this summer at the college, anyway.

If nothing else, it gives me more time with Kat
.

“So,” he gently ventured, “We’re definitely going, right?”

Her mind raced with a host of thoughts. She contemplated Alton’s message, a storage location for the couch, the prospects of the upcoming conference, and the preparations that needed to be attended to leading up to their departure. Then she peered down at her mate and noted his appraising expression. Her features softened somewhat, and she quickly kissed the tip of his nose.

“I’m considering it, my love,” she replied. “Alton’s correct, of course. It
would
be an ideal opportunity for you to see more of Europe. However, I’d like more details regarding the nature of the conference first. With Alton, nothing’s ever as simple as it appears.”

“It would be a longer vacation for us,” he said temptingly. “I mean, I had a great time in London. But the week flew by so fast.”

She noted his thoughtful expression.
Great time in London
, she sardonically recalled.
When you weren’t trying to avoid being killed! Still, it’s just like him to be so forgiving.

“Too true,” she muttered, still deeply in thought.

Slovenia is a curious selection. I wonder whether it’s the northern or southern region.

It had been years since she had traveled to that part of Europe. The country was conveniently situated near the beautiful Mediterranean. And while the southern part was very classic and touristy, the northern part was very mountainous and often remote.

I’ll call Alton later
.

“Any ideas where we should place the couch?” he asked.

She warily observed him and ventured, “The Salvation Army, perhaps?”

“Hey, you can’t just give away my memento-couch,” he retorted with a pleading look in his eyes.

Granted, the couch isn’t particularly practical, but it’s a hell of a conversation piece from our adventures in England.

She rolled her eyes at him and disdainfully conceded, “Fine. But it’s
certainly
not
going in our living room.”

What an utterly ugly piece of furniture
, she thought irritably.
Alton has the oddest sense of humor sometimes.

“My man-cave?” he countered. The estate’s small library had been hastily converted into his study when he had moved in.

“How about the garage instead? We’ll need to move furniture around in your study before it will fit.”

He carefully measured her disapproving tone. At least he had won a small victory in maintaining possession of it.

Today the garage; maybe someday the study
.

*    *    *    *

A few days later, Katrina was trying her hand at baking a cake. Her cooking skills had waned in the centuries since becoming a vampire, as none of her previous human mates were the type of people that fostered such domestic endeavors in her. Aside from her only human husband, Samuel, whom she had lost to influenza while she was still a human, the only person that caused her to consider cooking was Caleb. It pleased her to cook for him, and he genuinely appreciated her efforts. She had already mastered a host of breakfast-related specialties, so desserts were her latest endeavor.

She was on her third, and most successful, attempt of the day with a devil’s food cake when the phone rang. Darting to the phone with her uncanny speed, she whipped the receiver up to her ear amidst a small cloud of flour.

“Hello?” she asked in a polite, yet curious voice.

“Hello, this is Tammy Mendez with Atlanta Central Realty,” the soft, feminine voice prompted. “May I please speak with Caleb Taylor?”

Katrina’s eyes narrowed, and she guardedly replied, “Caleb’s not in at the moment. Can I take a message for him?”

There was a pause. “Actually, I’m sorry. I thought I was dialing his cell phone when you answered, but I see that I accidentally called his secondary number. I have information for Mr. Taylor that he requested regarding available town houses in the Atlanta area. I thought he might want to go over the results and perhaps tour some of the prospects.”

Katrina was caught off guard by the realtor’s response, and her mind raced to understand why Caleb would be looking at town houses.

He hasn’t said anything to me about this recently.

“Oh,” she absently commented. “Well, you can probably reach him on his cell. He’s at the college until later this evening.”

“Thanks very much. I’ll do that,” the lady politely replied. “Sorry to have bothered you.”

“No trouble at all,” Katrina said before hanging up the phone with a perplexed expression. Then she glanced back towards the kitchen stove where she had been baking the cake, feeling her motivation wane by the second.

Her mind raced to try and understand the nature of the phone call.

What’s going on with Caleb? Have I done something wrong? Is he unhappy living with me? Why hasn’t he said anything? Is this about my not letting him put that old couch in the house? Why wouldn’t he have said something?

It appears the only answers lie with Caleb.

She checked her watch and determined that there were still a couple of hours left before sunset.

Trapped at home until then
, she ruminated.
I guess I should go ahead and finish his cake.

“I can always press his face into it later, I suppose,” she muttered under her breath as dark emotions began to overtake her while she mulled the topic over and over.

A couple of hours later sunset had fallen, and Katrina changed into a turquoise blouse, fashion jeans, and knee-high black leather boots. She finished tying her hair into a tight ponytail and headed towards the garage.

She made her way to Robert Fulton, where the parking lot was rather empty by that time. As she walked through the parking lot, she reflected on when she had enrolled in Caleb’s history class the previous fall semester, as well as the enjoyable experience she had while listening to his lectures. He had a real gift for teaching, and she loved how fulfilling it was for him.

Her features fell slightly as a wave of sadness rolled through her at the possibility that her mate might be unhappy living with her. She breathed in heavily as she pulled the door open leading into the social sciences building.

His office door was closed, and she failed to hear anyone inside. She confirmed the time, having estimated that he was likely finishing his last class that evening. She bit her lip and decided to slip up to his classroom.

Maybe I’ll stand outside and listen to the last part of his lecture for old time’s sake.

Then a sinking feeling shot through her stomach as she contemplated what the evening’s conversation with him might reveal.

As she approached the classroom, she noted that the door had been left cracked open a sliver, and she heard his voice carry out of the room. She wanly smiled at the sound of him in “lecture mode” and peered in to see that his back was turned to the doorway as he scribbled notations on the chalkboard. She slipped into the classroom in virtual silence and sat into an empty seat on the back row near the doorway.

“So that’s why the Texans were unable to relieve the troops at the Alamo before the Mexican Army overtook the fort. Keep in mind that the facility was never intended as a tactically defensible point, so its own inadequate design contributed to the fall of the defenders as much as their relatively outnumbered forces and poor logistics,” Caleb explained, completely oblivious to Katrina’s entrance.

However, as he turned and scanned the room’s faces, his eyes immediately fell upon her, and he smiled.

She felt a wave of confusion flow through her as she once more sensed a disconnect between his behavior and the phone call from the realtor.

He smoothly fell back into his lecture without drawing further attention, “However, on April 21, 1836, Sam Houston and the Texan Army marched against and defeated the Mexican Army at San Jacinto. While this was a tactical victory for the Texans, it hardly resolved the issue of settlement in the largely contested Mexican territory. It’s not until we discuss the Polk Administration and the Mexican War during the late 1840s that any resolution occurs on that matter. But let’s stop there for tonight.”