My Vampire Prince Left, So I Hired a Werewolf to Replace Him

The forklift beeped in reverse outside my coffee shop. There went the last of that week's money. On its forks sat my last attempt to keep the place open: a night-shift cleaner hired for pennies through an anonymous services site. The delivery driver lowered a polished black oak coffin onto a dolly. I was too tired to ask why my new employee came in funeral packaging. "Sign here." The driver pushed a tablet at me. He glanced from the coffin to my face and waited. I scribbled something that vaguely resembled my name, Elara, and pushed the tablet back at him. "Thanks." He left me with a coffin parked in the middle of my sunny, debt-ridden coffee shop. Great. I nudged the heavy lid with the toe of my worn-out sneaker. It creaked open. Inside lay a man with high cheekbones, pale skin, raven-black hair, and an old-fashioned suit far too formal for cleaning toilets. Then his eyes snapped open. They were the color of blood. He sat up too fast and made no sound. His red eyes settled on me. When he smiled, I saw the points of his canines. "Mortal." His low voice made the glass jars on the counter hum. "You have summoned me. Kneel." Kneel? I had last done that three days ago, when my only clean teaspoon rolled behind the counter. Ignoring him, I stepped around the coffin to grab a broom. His smile slipped. "Did you not hear me? I am Lucius. Bow before me." He swept out one hand and put it straight into the morning sun coming through my front window. *Hsssssssss.* Smoke rose from his skin. He jerked his hand back and crowded into the coffin's shadow. I paused with the broom in my hand. Coffin, pale skin, bad reaction to sunlight. The listing had probably left out a severe sun allergy and some paperwork problems. That explained the price. Poor guy. I leaned the broom against the wall. "All right, Lucius. You can use the basement. No windows. Your shift runs from sundown to sunrise." His eyes widened. "Basement? I am a Prince." I went behind the counter. "And this is your first job tonight." I shoved a bright pink, flower-shaped toilet brush into his hand. He stared at the cheerful plastic in his hand. "This is an insult." "It's a toilet brush." I pointed toward the back. "Men's room. Don't miss the spot behind the U-bend." His nostrils flared. Cold crept over the counter, and the corners of the room darkened. The sunbeam still lay between us. He looked at it, looked at me, and closed his fingers around the brush. He marched toward the restroom with his back straight and the pink brush clenched upright in one fist. Cheap labor had finally solved one of my problems. Then I learned what Lucius ate.