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Angela and Honorato turned in their seats to find the older gentleman standing in the doorway behind them with a calm look on his face. He was bundled in a light-gray trenchcoat and umber-brown bowler hat, though purely for outward appearances, as the mid-Autumn chill did not affect him. He approached the table and stood beside Angela, and she empathically sensed his alarm

“Oh, hey, Cory,” Honorato greeted, earning a disapproving look from Corin. Angela’s uncle was fond of Honorato, but he didn’t appreciate the nickname the young man had given him, something Angela had repeatedly told Honorato to no avail. “What’re you doing here?”

“I came to pick up Angela,” Corin replied, removing his hat and smoothing his snowy white hair, which though short was just long enough to hide the tips of his pointed ears. “What were you two discussing just now?”

“Honor’s writing a paper on comparative cultural beliefs in vampirism,” Angela said, faking a lighthearted tone but giving Corin a rueful look.

“I see.” Corin raised an eyebrow at the Mayan bat god depicted in Honorato’s book. “Curious topic.” He put his hat back on and touched Angela’s shoulder. “How are you faring?”

“I’m doing okay,” Angela reassured Corin, cupping his hand.

“Heard someone bumped into Angela in the subway,” Honorato said.

Corin gave Honorato a sidelong glance. “That’s a tactful way of putting it.”

“Tactful?”

Angela rose from her chair. “Sorry, Honor, but we need to head out. We’re running late.”

“We are?” Corin blurted, receiving an imploring look from Angela. He pretended to check his pocket watch. “Oui, we are.”

“Late for what?” Honorato asked.

Angela put on her coat and slung her bookbag over her shoulder. She curled her arm around Corin’s. “We’re going to an exhibition by an artist named Edgar Blair at the Goodwin Museum.” Angela just wanted to avoid Honorato’s questioning, though they had technically made plans earlier that week to see Edgar Blair’s art show. “I’ll catch you later, Honor.”

Corin tapped the brim of his hat with his cane. “Au revoir, Monsieur Custódio.”

“Um, okay. Take care.” Honorato returned to his book.

Angela and Corin made their way outside and walked toward the visitor parking lot. It was a chilly evening, a light breeze sending autumn leaves skittering across the brick paths.

“Pray tell, how long has Honorato been pursuing this line of study?” Corin gave Angela a mild look.

Angela winced. “A few days. I’m sorry, I would have told you, but I just found out right before … the subway.”

“I understand, though I am concerned.” Corin wrapped his arm around Angela. “By educating himself on les revenants sanguinaires, I worry Honorato will get certain ideas.”

“He doesn’t believe in vampires.”

“I know, I know. I’m probably being paranoid.” He shrugged. “Perhaps it would prove beneficial. Honorato may need this knowledge if he’s to be my nephew-in-law someday.” Angela pinched Corin’s side. “Ouch!”

“We’re just friends,” Angela asserted.

“I was only teasing.” Corin rubbed his side, a smirk beneath his mustache. He was always careful to smile with his mouth closed when out in public, lest someone see his fangs.

Angela fell quiet for a moment, comforted by the familiar taps of Corin’s walking stick. “The mugging was in the newspaper this morning,” she noted, her voice solemn.

“I know.” Corin regarded Angela with a tender look. “They didn’t mention your name.”

“Not yet.”

They walked into the parking lot and came to Corin’s silver sports car. Corin was about to unlock the passenger door for Angela when she hugged him. “What’s this now?” he chuckled.

“I’m just happy you’re here.”

Corin kissed both of Angela’s cheeks, being gentle with her bruise. “I’ll always be here for you,” he whispered in French.

“Let’s go to the exhibition.”

Corin blinked in confusion. “I thought that was just an excuse to avoid Honorato’s questions.”

“It was,” Angela granted, “but we were planning to see the exhibition before all this craziness happened.”

“Angéline, I’m not sure—”

“Please, I don’t want to wallow at home anymore. Just for tonight, let’s go out and forget what happened the other day.”

Corin gave a reluctant nod. “Very well. We’ll stop by the apartment to change first.”

*****

6:30 p.m.

Angela selected a lavender halterneck dress for the evening. She tried to conceal her bruise with makeup but couldn’t quite hide the discoloration. She gave up with a sigh and left the bathroom. Corin was stepping out of his bedroom at the same moment, slipping on his suit jacket. “Ready to go?”

“I’m ready,” Angela replied. She gave her uncle’s outfit a once-over. He had changed from his gray suit into a sleek navy ensemble with pinstripes, a mauve dress shirt, and a rose-red bow tie. “Very dapper.”

Corin cocked a playful eyebrow. “Aren’t I always?”

“Fair point.” In fact, Angela couldn’t remember a single moment where Corin was not dressed smartly in a three-piece suit, wing-collar dress shirt, and bowtie. The man even wore spats with his dress shoes. He often received curious looks from casually dressed strangers, but he never seemed to care. Angela had always admired Corin’s refined style, and she couldn’t imagine him in something casual like, God forbid, a t-shirt or sneakers.

Corin’s eyes narrowed. “What’s with that smirk?”

“Just thinking I might buy you some jeans next time we go shopping,” Angela proposed with a shrug, stepping around Corin to retrieve her coat from the entry closet.

“Beurk!” Corin exclaimed in mock disgust. “Do not joke about such a thing!” He came up beside Angela and took his trenchcoat and bowler from the closet. “You look lovely as well.”

“Black eye notwithstanding.” Angela closed the closet and pulled on her white winter coat. She noticed her uncle looking at her with concern. “That was a joke. I wasn’t trying to be self-pitying.”

“I know,” Corin said, moving closer to Angela, “but I think you’ve tolerated that injury long enough.”

Angela shook her head. “Uncle Corin, people will notice if—”

“We will see no one important this weekend.” Corin cupped Angela’s bruised cheek. “This would have mostly healed by Monday anyway, and it’s easy to fake a bruise if necessary.”

Angela bit her lip. “Okay, if you say so.”

Corin flattened his gloved hand against Angela’s cheek and closed his eyes, brows furrowed in concentration as he worked his magic. A cool sensation washed over the left side of Angela’s face, alleviating the soreness. “There,” Corin said, removing his hand. “Good as new.”

Angela stepped over to an antique mirror hanging on the wall to check her reflection. Her face was healed with no trace of the bruise. She smiled at her uncle. “I’m still not sure that was a good idea, but thank you.”

Corin kissed both of Angela’s cheeks. “You are most welcome.” He picked up his serpent-headed cane. “Off we go then.”

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