Previously on Trancing Miranda
Regio Authority, Daniel Boucher, goes to the Vault to speak to the manager about the new safety directive. Daniel meets with one of his own employees. Disappointed with the employee’s performance, he reflects on Miranda’s ability to hold people accountable in spite of her emotional damage. Daniel knows he shares some of the blame for this. We learn that Miranda was once his donor, in spite of being his (mostly fae) second cousin, and that vampires in this world are complicated and not necessarily nice.
The Pancake House
Nick spent the rest of Friday night wrapping up loose ends on his last case and getting up to speed on recent events in the Regio. There was not a lot of drama, considering the number of people in and out.
Even the half-vamps, who were so problematic in human territory, were largely well-behaved inside the gate. Thanks to Daniel.
Technically, Daniel Boucher had limited authority over any half-breed vampire who lived in human territory. Practically, no one cared. The half-vamps knew they were on their own inside the Regio. Most acted accordingly.
And it was no surprise so few chose to live there.
Nick finished his work and got a shower. At sunrise, he sent a text asking Miranda to meet. She texted back hours later with a link to Pan-American House of Pancakes and the message “Be there at 11 AM.”
He parked in the sun-drenched parking lot at eleven, as instructed.
The Pan-American House of Pancakes was one of several restaurants that catered to the Regio’s human population. The interior was spacious and sunny and packed with people. The smell of syrup and bacon mixed with the steady drone of conversation and the delicate clink of flatware.
Miranda was in a booth. On her immediate left, an enormous plate-glass window magnified the sunlight. Nick sat down across from her. Without makeup, the freckles stood out sharply against her chalky skin. Under her eyes, the circles were blue as bruises.
She’d washed her hair and skipped whatever chemical she’d used to stiffen it when he saw her last. In the slanting sun, her long red curls gleamed with golden highlights.
The club clothes had been replaced a gray hooded sweatshirt, bunched up enough at the neck to hide the bite. A polished green and red flecked teardrop pendant dangled over the folds of gray cloth, the stone glowing faintly all around the edges with pale leaf-green light. Looking closely, Nick saw an eight-pointed fairy star etched into its surface.
The stone was a charm—an authentic fae charm—and it had magic.
It had been centuries since Nick had seen a real fae talisman. He wondered if Miranda knew what it was or if had just been handed down through the generations without an explanation.
“Thanks for meeting me,” he said. “I wasn’t sure if you’d show.”
She gave him a quick, hard smile. “I almost didn’t. But you helped me out, so I felt like I owed you. One meeting.”
“I appreciate it.” Nick squinted at her through the polarized shield of his sunglasses as millions of photons rained down upon them. “You do know I’m a vampire?”
“I guess I wasn’t thinking.”
But she had been. She’d been thinking quite clearly. She knew that compelling someone was almost impossible in this kind of light.
Nick was an exception to that rule, but only to a point.
He scanned the menu. “How’s the neck?”
“It’s fine.”
But not healed. Some fae lived almost as long as vampires, but they healed slow and dirty, just like humans.
“How are you otherwise?”
“I’m good. It takes a couple of days to bounce back, but I’m getting there.”
Nick closed the menu. There were five different syrups on the table, but no pancakes. “Did you order?”
“For me. I didn’t know what you’d want.”
Nick motioned to the waitress and ordered coffee.
Miranda studied him with the unwavering intensity of a very young child, and Nick had the distinct impression she didn’t like what she saw.
“Do you know who my cousin is?” she asked.
There was no point in lying. “Daniel Boucher.”
“So you know he’s the Authority?”
“Yes.”
“Is that why you helped me?”
“I would help anyone in that situation.”
It was true, or close enough, but it didn’t explain today. He was here for a reason. It wasn’t about Daniel. It was about Miranda’s ability to track.
“Okay,” she said. “Say that’s true. You helped me. You fixed me up. You’re done.” She took a sip of coffee. “So, why are we here?”
“Maybe I have an interest.”
She laughed. “In me?”
“Why not?”
“I’m not your type, Nick. We talked about that already.”
He remembered. “You said I liked innocent women.”
“Innocent and obedient…” She tilted her head and studied him. “With long, silky blond hair.”
“That’s every guy.”
She smiled, not offended like some women would be—because she was used to immortali, probably, and the way they objectified people.
Then the waitress was there with the pancakes and coffee.
Miranda lined three of the five syrups up in front of her plate, then used all of them, separating and folding back the layers of pancake with her fork as she poured until the entire stack was saturated. She cut the stack into uniform squares and took her first bite.
“I got the impression,” Nick said, “that your attacker was on good terms with your friend at the Black Goddess.”
She kept on eating, watching him carefully over dripping forkfuls of pancake. “So?”
“I thought maybe we could talk to her. I was hoping you’d take me by her house.”
Incredibly, she was pouring more syrup, the liquid a bright sapphire blue in the beaming sunlight. Her gaze drifted left as if she had figured him out already and was no long interested. “Why?”
“You know her.”
“I mean, why talk to her?”
He took off the sunglasses and gave her just enough energy to make her receptive to what came next. “I want to find Tony Gyari.”
“Because?”
“He’s a danger to others.”
“No kidding.” If the energy was affecting her, it didn’t show. “But that’s not what I want to know. I want to know why that matters to you. Specifically.”
And she wasn’t going to let it go until he gave her an answered that made sense. Nick pulled out his Council ID and laid it down on the table in front of her.
She dropped her silverware with a clatter. “You work for the Council?”
“That’s right.”
Miranda’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t like the Council, which was par for the course, really. Inside close-knit vampire districts like the Regio, people usually didn’t, and in this instance, Nick understood.
The Council had failed the Regio seven years ago, and anyone close to Daniel Boucher would know that.
“I don’t know my way around,” he said, wondering if she would buy it. “And people aren’t going to talk to me.”
“Unless you zap them?”
It was how he operated ordinarily. Energy was efficient. Getting people to trust you was not. “Probably.”
A car door slammed out in the parking lot, and a man in a faded sweatshirt dragged two crying kids across the asphalt. Miranda watched, expressionless. In the streaming sun, the freckles seemed to soften, spilling over her nose and skating lightly across her cheekbones.
The man was on the grass now, beside the front door, hunkered down to talk to the children. Behind him, the late morning sun sliced down between the cars, bouncing off windshields and mirrors in a blaze of white.
Miranda picked up the knife and fork and cut a big triangle of pancake. “What’s in it for me?”
He grinned. “The satisfaction of taking a dangerous vampire off the street?”
She gave him the same hard smile she’d led with. “Try again.”
Trancing Miranda is now finished. Installments will be posting every two weeks as I edit! New installment coming soon! Subscribe for free to received future installments via email.
© 2025-2026 Barbara Graver. All rights reserved. This is an original work of fiction. Do not reproduce or redistribute without written permission.