myself up and we returned to the kitchen, a knock
on the door frame startled us. A new security guard—a woman, one I didn’t recall seeing
last night—was examining us with dark, narrowed eyes.
“Ladies. Clyde would like to see you now.”
Sara and I exchanged a look before rising and following the guard to the main house.
I was annoyed to note she was quite a bit taller than me, so perfectly beautiful and
graceful with her high cheekbones and sleek, braided hair that I knew she must have
been another vampire. Her dress was like that of the security guards I’d seen last
night, though she had guns holstered on either hip. Her deadly grace reminded me strongly
of Mouse, though there wasn’t much other resemblance.
We entered through the door near the pool deck. She took us through some hallways
to a room full of weird paintings and strange sculptures and told us to wait.
There wasn’t any place to sit, so we just stood awkwardly, staring around the room.
Separately, the pieces were just . . . well . . . weird. Together, they made a strange
kind of sense. The swirl of colors and clashing styles made me dizzy, so I made a
point of focusing on one piece. Of course. It had to be a Warhol.
My feet were starting to hurt by the time Clyde swept into the room, a bevy of buzzing
sycophants trailing in his wake. His hair was a different color this evening, no longer
black, but a deep chocolate color with frosted tips, making for a striking, punk-rocker
look that fit with the bare chest and drawstring leather pants slung low on his hips.
He waved a hand airily and the people surrounding him backed off, mumbling reassurances
about his hair, his clothes, something about appointments and a TV spot, and a few
other things I didn’t quite catch.
As the others backed away, he snapped his fingers at the security guard who had escorted
us. She froze, hovering near the door.
Once he was across the room, he turned to face us, and I could have sworn that his
eyes were a solid black. Like fathomless pools of pure hunger sucking me deep into
a cold, lonely place.
It might have been the space between breaths or an eternity before he looked away,
his attention fixing on a granite statue of a robed angel with sweeping wings, the
tracks of tears permanently etched across the cheeks of that androgynous face. Air
seeped out between my teeth in a hiss as tension ran out of me. Gut instinct told
me we were on the verge of experiencing something very nasty by his hands if we didn’t
watch our step. Made me wonder just how well that little charm around my throat—the
one that was supposed to prevent vampires and magi from messing with my head—was working.
“Good evening,” Clyde said, his voice smooth as silk and completely at odds with the
way he had devoured us with his eyes a moment ago. “I wished to see you before you
begin your search. Do you have any questions about what you saw in the file you were
given? Were you able to glean anything useful?”
Sara and I exchanged a look. As badly as I had wanted to snark at him about taking
the phone, now clearly wasn’t the time.
She stepped forward, and I let her lead. She was better at verbal sparring than I
ever was; a necessary skill I would need to hone if I was going to be spending much
more time around these strange vampires.
“Yes. We think we know where to start, but first we’d like to know who you think might
be behind this. Or any enemies who might have more information? They won’t know us,
so they might be willing to let something useful spill if they don’t realize we’re
working for you.”
He threw back his head and laughed, the sound booming through the room loudly enough
to make me flinch. When the sound tapered off, he rubbed a faux tear from the corner
of his eye. “My, you are direct. How refreshing.”
Sara was unmoved. She folded her arms and gave him an “I’m waiting” look. I
on the door frame startled us. A new security guard—a woman, one I didn’t recall seeing
last night—was examining us with dark, narrowed eyes.
“Ladies. Clyde would like to see you now.”
Sara and I exchanged a look before rising and following the guard to the main house.
I was annoyed to note she was quite a bit taller than me, so perfectly beautiful and
graceful with her high cheekbones and sleek, braided hair that I knew she must have
been another vampire. Her dress was like that of the security guards I’d seen last
night, though she had guns holstered on either hip. Her deadly grace reminded me strongly
of Mouse, though there wasn’t much other resemblance.
We entered through the door near the pool deck. She took us through some hallways
to a room full of weird paintings and strange sculptures and told us to wait.
There wasn’t any place to sit, so we just stood awkwardly, staring around the room.
Separately, the pieces were just . . . well . . . weird. Together, they made a strange
kind of sense. The swirl of colors and clashing styles made me dizzy, so I made a
point of focusing on one piece. Of course. It had to be a Warhol.
My feet were starting to hurt by the time Clyde swept into the room, a bevy of buzzing
sycophants trailing in his wake. His hair was a different color this evening, no longer
black, but a deep chocolate color with frosted tips, making for a striking, punk-rocker
look that fit with the bare chest and drawstring leather pants slung low on his hips.
He waved a hand airily and the people surrounding him backed off, mumbling reassurances
about his hair, his clothes, something about appointments and a TV spot, and a few
other things I didn’t quite catch.
As the others backed away, he snapped his fingers at the security guard who had escorted
us. She froze, hovering near the door.
Once he was across the room, he turned to face us, and I could have sworn that his
eyes were a solid black. Like fathomless pools of pure hunger sucking me deep into
a cold, lonely place.
It might have been the space between breaths or an eternity before he looked away,
his attention fixing on a granite statue of a robed angel with sweeping wings, the
tracks of tears permanently etched across the cheeks of that androgynous face. Air
seeped out between my teeth in a hiss as tension ran out of me. Gut instinct told
me we were on the verge of experiencing something very nasty by his hands if we didn’t
watch our step. Made me wonder just how well that little charm around my throat—the
one that was supposed to prevent vampires and magi from messing with my head—was working.
“Good evening,” Clyde said, his voice smooth as silk and completely at odds with the
way he had devoured us with his eyes a moment ago. “I wished to see you before you
begin your search. Do you have any questions about what you saw in the file you were
given? Were you able to glean anything useful?”
Sara and I exchanged a look. As badly as I had wanted to snark at him about taking
the phone, now clearly wasn’t the time.
She stepped forward, and I let her lead. She was better at verbal sparring than I
ever was; a necessary skill I would need to hone if I was going to be spending much
more time around these strange vampires.
“Yes. We think we know where to start, but first we’d like to know who you think might
be behind this. Or any enemies who might have more information? They won’t know us,
so they might be willing to let something useful spill if they don’t realize we’re
working for you.”
He threw back his head and laughed, the sound booming through the room loudly enough
to make me flinch. When the sound tapered off, he rubbed a faux tear from the corner
of his eye. “My, you are direct. How refreshing.”
Sara was unmoved. She folded her arms and gave him an “I’m waiting” look. I
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