Tiny Toy Cars

Carlisle couldn't concentrate on his work after that. The last time he had seen Malakai, Victoria was still the queen of England. Now, almost two hundred years later he had shown up in tiny-town Wisconsin with blue eyes? It had to be some sort of trick. Had to be. But hadn't his skin felt almost warm? And hadn't he smelled somehow different?

Unfortunately, it was one thing after another at St. Mary's and ten minutes turned into twenty which inevitably stretched out over an hour before Carlisle could finally make his escape.

Malakai wasn't hiding in the blood bank as Carlisle thought. He hadn't been to the break room either. Ever calm, Carlisle followed the trail of swooning women out of the building where his anxiety suddenly melted away, replaced with a smirk.

A tiny red convertible, more of an over-sized toy than an actual car, sat in a clearly marked handicapped spot, music blaring. It looked like one of a kind and, knowing Malakai, it probably was. As for Malakai, he was sprawled across the front seat, one sneakered foot keeping time out the driver's side window, the other crooked against the steering wheel. His head lolled out the passenger side, sunglasses reminiscent of The King, singing in harmony to one of the classics. He had never been one to be subtle.

The absurdity of it all caused Carlisle to miss one small detail. He didn't sparkle. A break in the clouds sent a shaft of sunshine cascading into the parking lot, and he didn't sparkle.

"That was far longer than ten minutes," Malakai pointed out when Carlisle, who had to wait for the sun to disappear behind the clouds before he could venture across the open parking lot, came up. "You're damn lucky I found a station that plays decent music." He touched a button on the dash and the song cut off. "What kept you?"

Carlisle didn't respond. He had to see.

"Hey! Careful with the shades!" Malakai twisted around, fixing Carlisle with a 'break them you're dead' glare.

"Your eyes—"

Malakai let out an exasperated breath. "Don't think I don't know. I've noticed the same thing." His accent made the words sharp. "What kept you?"

"How—?"

"Look," he said, impatient as he snatched back his sunglasses. "I don't think this is the best place. What kept you?"

"Damage control," Carlisle said finally, still unable to take his eyes off his friend's.

It started to rain, a light, cool mist.

"Damage control?" Malakai let out a low laugh. "Oh, you mean me." He hit another button and the roof unfolded itself out of the trunk. "You know, I actually thought about that. Well, afterward, at least. Sorry if you thought I was going to rape you."

Carlisle caught himself before he said something stupid like "That's all right" and started to say—but Malakai was leaning out the passenger window talking again.

"What did you tell them?"

"That you are my estranged step-brother whom I haven't seen since our father died twelve years ago."

Malakai considered this a moment. "Serves the bastard right."

"You also happen to suffer from ADD."

"Huh," the vampire started to say, but changed his mind and said "Aren't you getting wet?" instead.

Carlisle just shook his head and changed the subject. "Nice car. What year?" He wanted to ask him something else, about how he didn't glitter, but his inbred courtesy wouldn't allow for it. Not yet.

"It's a '76." The blue-eyed vampire grinned widely, obviously proud of it. He slid over into the driver seat and tapped the steering wheel restlessly. "Now, I know you don't really want to talk cars. Do you live very far?"

Carlisle didn't answer right away. He wasn't sure if he wanted Malakai at his house. How was he supposed to explain this to everyone? To Esme? Since Bella's disappearance, things hadn't exactly been the same, and he wasn't sure if he wanted his friend around his family when they had recently lost someone. He wasn't sure if they would appreciate Malakai's cheerful demeanor. But then again, he couldn't say no. Even if Malakai was occasionally self-absorbed and un-sympathetic, his "condition"—whatever it was—was unlike anything Carlisle had ever seen. As much as it went against his better judgment, he had to know. He had to know why.

"No," he said finally. "I don't live very far."

Malakai smiled his perfect smile. "Perfect."

Carlisle glanced anxiously in the rear-view mirror of his Benz every few seconds as they wound their way up the Door Peninsula, fearful that Malakai might spontaneously combust. There was no such thing as blue-eyed vampires. They didn't exist. Unless there was some new aquatic life diet he didn't know about. It didn't seem likely. Even if there was, Malakai didn't seem the type to give up seducing pretty humans for a pair of baby blues. Besides, they were humanly blue.

Whatever was wrong with him, he didn't burst into flames as Carlisle turned onto the private drive. He appeared perfectly at ease, following leisurely behind Carlisle, the stereo of his MGB thumping again. Then again, Malakai always appeared perfectly at ease on the surface. It was damn annoying sometimes, too.

The hidden drive off Highway 42 seemed to wind way up the tall sloping hill for miles. Towering elms and spruce pines, sturdy maples, and old oaks bowed over them on either side, throwing deep green shadows over everything as the two cars crunched up the steep gravel drive. It finally spit them out at the top of the hill where a tall, window-filled house waited quietly. Silvery-gray with a steep roof to ward off the thick Wisconsin snows, the house glowed faintly in the early afternoon sun peeking timidly between dark clouds.

Surrounded on every side by trees, the house looked cozy, despite its size. Easily three stories, it came with an expansive garage to the left and a deep welcoming front porch wrapped around to the right. An impressive view of Lake Michigan glittered at the bottom of the hill behind the house, hardly a mile away. It was stunning.

Carlisle parked his Mercedes in the garage and joined Malakai, un-sparkling, in the sun.

Malakai leaned against the hood of his ridiculous car, the top down again, and let out a low whistle. "Classy place," he said, looking appreciatively at the house.

"Thank you."

"You live here alone?" Malakai asked offhandedly, striding up the front steps behind him as Carlisle let open the door.

"I'll introduce you to Esme."

Malakai looked slowly around, taking in the large front hall, the high ceiling, the curving staircase. Carlisle watched him, hands on his hips, head cocked slightly to the right. It reminded him of the first time they had met. That happy, curious look. He really hadn't changed at all. Except for the eyes, of course.

Malakai caught him looking and grinned, his peculiar blue eyes dancing. "You know, I've been trying to track you down for months," Malakai told him. "I got a lead while I was in Chicago that you lived in Washington. Washington." He said it like they were speaking of some horrible disease."Of course, everyone there told me you were dead." He made a face. "I . . . can't even begin to describe how unwelcome that news was."

"I'm sorry you had trouble finding us," Carlisle found himself apologizing as he led him through the house and out the back door where Esme was tending to her daisies on the deck. Washington. If there was one thing they all wanted to undo . . .

"Finding whom?" Esme asked, brushing her dark curls back from her face. A smile broke across her face when she caught sight of the unfamiliar face. "Oh, hello."

Malakai smiled from the doorway, watching Carlisle place a soft kiss on Esme's cheek.

"Esme, this is Malakai," Carlisle explained, guiding her away from her flowers. "Malakai, my wife, Esme."

"Esme," Malakai murmured pleasantly. He pressed his lips to her fingers briefly, playing the part of the perfect English gentlemen wonderfully. "Carlisle's other half. I hope you don't mind the intrusion."

Esme's laughed echoed beautifully through the leaves as she laced her fingers through Carlisle's. "Not at all," she began, but stopped. "How did you come by such surprising eyes?"

"I wish I knew," Malakai sighed, looking wistful. "That's why I'm here; I figured if anyone knew Carlisle would."

Carlisle looked at the man, his eyes tight. He had no idea what could be wrong—if anything. But Malakai had such a winning smile it was hard to let him down. It had always been hard.

"You have a beautiful home," Malakai was saying conversationally. "Is it just the two of you?"

"Thank you. Four years in and I'm still not finished with it," Esme admitted. "And no, there are more of us."

"Esme designed the house herself, is what she means to say," Carlisle corrected, earning himself a quick jab in the ribs.

"No kidding?" Malakai looked impressed. "Well, hell, I think I'll have to fire my architect and hire you instead."

Esme laughed again and shook her head. "Oh, no, it's only a hobby. You wouldn't want me." She looked reproachfully at Carlisle. "Now, I'm sure the two of you have better things to do than stand here all day chatting with me."

"We'll let you get back to your flowers," Carlisle agreed and kissed the top of her head.

"Lovely meeting you," Malakai added before he disappeared inside after Carlisle.