Wicked Game by Jeri Smith-Ready

get in?”
    “I picked your lock.” Shane points to his head. “Sensitive ears hear the tumblers click.”
    “Fascinating. I don’t want you here.”
    A skeptical look flashes across his face, then he glances at my thigh. “How are you feeling?”
    “I had to get stitches and a tetanus shot. It hurts to walk.”
    “I’m sorry. I really am.”
    “Why are you here?” I fight to keep my voice down to avoid alarming Lori. “You only came to the Pig last night because David sent you.”
    He nods. “Usually I hang out at O’Leary’s. Less pretentious, no students.”
    “You ran away from Jolene with me, came home with me, made out with me, just to prove that vampires exist.” Indignation masks the hurt in my voice. “You set me up.”
    “That’s not the only reason I came home with you.” He stands and takes a step toward me. “As for why I’m here now, I had to finish what I started last night.”
    A stab of fear makes me reach for the doorknob before I realize he’s talking about the CDs. “I can do it myself. I know the alphabet.”
    “What’s the fourth letter after M?”
    “I don’t care.”
    “It’s Q,” he says. “I don’t even have to sing the alphabet song to myself to figure it out. I know it the way I know the back of my own teeth.”
    “Is that supposed to impress me?”
    He takes another step. “I couldn’t sleep today, thinking about it.”
    “Oh, poor you. I’ll have nightmares the rest of my life, not to mention a scar that’ll be hard to explain to future visitors. But you lost a day’s sleep over some out-of-order CDs.”
    He gives me a steady look. “I wasn’t talking about the CDs.”
    My breath catches and quickens under his gaze, and he’s not even using his mesmer-eyes on me.
    I’m about to order him out of my apartment when I realize he might refuse. Then what? Lori and I together probably don’t match half his strength.
    “Wait here.” I back out of my room, shut the door, then dash for the kitchen.
    Lori’s on the sofa, trying to work the TV remote. “Everything okay?”
    “Fine, fine.” I rummage through the fridge’s vegetable bin, shoving aside a month-old bag of liquid scallions. Nope, not there. I open one of the cabinets and climb onto the counter to peer into the top shelf.
    “Sure you don’t need help?” Lori calls.
    “Yep. Set up the movie.”
    Finally I find what I’m looking for, behind an unopened container of fennel seed. I climb off the counter, clutching the little plastic jar.
    “Be right back,” I tell Lori as I blur past her.
    In my room I shut the door and advance on Shane, who’s sitting among the CDs again.
    “Get out!” I twist off the red cap and hurl the contents of the jar at him.
    He sputters and spits, then wipes his mouth. “What the—salt? I’m a vampire, not a slug.”
    “Keep your voice down. It’s garlic salt.”
    “It is?” He brushes the stuff out of his hair and sniffs his sleeve. “How old is that jar?”
    I glance at the bottom, which bears a faded price tag (89c) instead of a UPC code. “Maybe a decade, or two. It came with the apartment.”
    “I’d say it’s past its peak freshness.” Shane rubs his arm. “Although I am a little itchy.” He stands up, and I step back. He holds up his hands. “Relax, I won’t hurt you. If you wanted me to leave, all you had to do was ask.”
    “I’m pretty sure I did.”
    He points to a stack of CDs between us. “Here’s A through Bowie, in order. That was as far as I got before you started throwing condiments.”
    I put the empty garlic salt jar in my pocket. “I was afraid if I told you to leave, you might try to hurt Lori.”
    “No, you weren’t.” He smirks. “You were afraid I’d convince you to let me stay.”
    His cockiness provokes my foot to reach out and kick A through Bowie, scattering them across the rug. Shane blanches, a breath hissing through his teeth as if I’ve rammed a cross of pure sunlight into his temple. I remember what Lori