in silent question.
“Off,” Charlotte said.
Elizabeth nodded, turned off the light and closed the door behind her. She took one last lingering look at it, then searched the room for her husband.
In the sitting room, Simon glanced out of their hotel room window. Again.
“You can relax a little now.”
Simon grunted, his eyes unerringly darting toward the bedroom door where Charlotte was, before landing back on Elizabeth. The worry he carried made them heavy and intense. He turned back to his vigil at the window.
Elizabeth took a seat on the lumpy sofa. “I don’t see how they could have possibly followed us. You drove all over creation and back. Twice.”
Simon grunted again and let the beige curtain fall over the window. “Let’s hope so.”
“I didn’t see anybody tailing us.”
“I don’t know how you could see anything with that traffic,” he said, coming over to join her on the sofa.
Elizabeth tucked her legs up under her. “We should call Jack. Let him know what’s going on.”
Simon nodded and then sat down heavily, sinking into the “had seen better days” cushions, and frowned even more deeply.
She put her hand on his thigh and he covered it with his own before turning it over and taking hold of it. Elizabeth leaned into his side, resting her head on his shoulder.
“Are we doing the right thing? Having her here?”
Elizabeth lifted her head. “Haven’t we had this conversation?”
“I know, but…” He shook his head. “That was before.”
“We knew we wouldn’t be the only ones looking.”
Simon nodded. “And yet, now that I’m faced with it.…” He let out a deep breath.
He turned to look at her, his eyes dancing across her face, searching for something. She cupped his cheek and smiled at him, wanting to reassure him. That seemed to be what he’d been looking for. A smile came to his lips and he kissed the back of the hand he held.
He tilted his head back, resting it against the sofa back. “Do you think this feeling ever goes away?”
She laid her head back and turned to look at him.
“Ever since she arrived, my heart…aches,” he finished with a helpless smile.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I kind of hope not.”
Simon nodded and Elizabeth inched forward to kiss him. It was soft and gentle. They pulled apart and just looked at each other for a moment. It was one of those peaceful, perfect moments. And it was shattered by the titanic roar of a plane coming in for a landing, apparently ten feet over their heads.
Elizabeth laughed and sat up. “So, are you ready for phase three?”
Simon pushed himself up from the sofa and retrieved the canister from his jacket. He brought it back and held it out.
“Would you like to do the honors?”
Elizabeth sat up a little straighter and wiggled in her seat. She took the small tube and pulled the cap off. At the top of the slip of paper was the number 99.
“Ninety-nine?” she said. “How does that follow thirteen?”
Simon frowned and read the note aloud. “A mad hatter’s tea party fit for a king.”
“You don’t think he means Zog, do you?”
She’d actually met, well, tripped, a king once. King Zog, the Albanian monarch had taken a header over her loose shoe at a hotel in war torn London.
“He’s the only king I’ve met…I think,” she added. “Unless you count mummies.”
Simon took the paper from her hand. “No, I’m quite sure he doesn’t mean that.” He looked at her with dark, haunted eyes.
“Then…?”
Simon cleared his throat. “Kashian. King Kashian.”
“Ohhh.”
That explained Simon’s instantly-dark mood. Even though it had been well over a year ago for them, and nearly a century for the rest of the world, memories of King Kashian, the vampire gangster, still haunted him. The nightmares he’d had about her death and how they’d all nearly come true left a bit of scar tissue inside him. Or, judging from the quiet storm behind his eyes, maybe they
“Off,” Charlotte said.
Elizabeth nodded, turned off the light and closed the door behind her. She took one last lingering look at it, then searched the room for her husband.
In the sitting room, Simon glanced out of their hotel room window. Again.
“You can relax a little now.”
Simon grunted, his eyes unerringly darting toward the bedroom door where Charlotte was, before landing back on Elizabeth. The worry he carried made them heavy and intense. He turned back to his vigil at the window.
Elizabeth took a seat on the lumpy sofa. “I don’t see how they could have possibly followed us. You drove all over creation and back. Twice.”
Simon grunted again and let the beige curtain fall over the window. “Let’s hope so.”
“I didn’t see anybody tailing us.”
“I don’t know how you could see anything with that traffic,” he said, coming over to join her on the sofa.
Elizabeth tucked her legs up under her. “We should call Jack. Let him know what’s going on.”
Simon nodded and then sat down heavily, sinking into the “had seen better days” cushions, and frowned even more deeply.
She put her hand on his thigh and he covered it with his own before turning it over and taking hold of it. Elizabeth leaned into his side, resting her head on his shoulder.
“Are we doing the right thing? Having her here?”
Elizabeth lifted her head. “Haven’t we had this conversation?”
“I know, but…” He shook his head. “That was before.”
“We knew we wouldn’t be the only ones looking.”
Simon nodded. “And yet, now that I’m faced with it.…” He let out a deep breath.
He turned to look at her, his eyes dancing across her face, searching for something. She cupped his cheek and smiled at him, wanting to reassure him. That seemed to be what he’d been looking for. A smile came to his lips and he kissed the back of the hand he held.
He tilted his head back, resting it against the sofa back. “Do you think this feeling ever goes away?”
She laid her head back and turned to look at him.
“Ever since she arrived, my heart…aches,” he finished with a helpless smile.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I kind of hope not.”
Simon nodded and Elizabeth inched forward to kiss him. It was soft and gentle. They pulled apart and just looked at each other for a moment. It was one of those peaceful, perfect moments. And it was shattered by the titanic roar of a plane coming in for a landing, apparently ten feet over their heads.
Elizabeth laughed and sat up. “So, are you ready for phase three?”
Simon pushed himself up from the sofa and retrieved the canister from his jacket. He brought it back and held it out.
“Would you like to do the honors?”
Elizabeth sat up a little straighter and wiggled in her seat. She took the small tube and pulled the cap off. At the top of the slip of paper was the number 99.
“Ninety-nine?” she said. “How does that follow thirteen?”
Simon frowned and read the note aloud. “A mad hatter’s tea party fit for a king.”
“You don’t think he means Zog, do you?”
She’d actually met, well, tripped, a king once. King Zog, the Albanian monarch had taken a header over her loose shoe at a hotel in war torn London.
“He’s the only king I’ve met…I think,” she added. “Unless you count mummies.”
Simon took the paper from her hand. “No, I’m quite sure he doesn’t mean that.” He looked at her with dark, haunted eyes.
“Then…?”
Simon cleared his throat. “Kashian. King Kashian.”
“Ohhh.”
That explained Simon’s instantly-dark mood. Even though it had been well over a year ago for them, and nearly a century for the rest of the world, memories of King Kashian, the vampire gangster, still haunted him. The nightmares he’d had about her death and how they’d all nearly come true left a bit of scar tissue inside him. Or, judging from the quiet storm behind his eyes, maybe they
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