“I don’t know why you are all pissy,” Vivien grumbled. “I’m the one you accused of lying and being a master vampire. If you had told me about the mind control powers, we could have put two and two together.”
“And why didn’t you tell me about how you wooed the orderly so expertly when we went to see the Original?”
She shrugged, her bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “I wasn’t a hundred percent certain it happened. Part of me insisted I’d made it up, and he just changed his mind about not letting us in.”
Not liking the logic she presented, I changed tactics. “You got Ms. West involved in this mess. She is human and not to be embroiled in supernatural matters.”
She made a rude sound. “Miranda is her own person, and she got into this herself. She could have run for the hills, but I don’t think that’s her personality. And no, I don’t like it any more than you do that the master targeted her. If she’d died because of me, or worse…” Her words drifted off as she delved into the imagined horror of it. Then she said, “I want the master dead too. But I don’t want to meet him on his turf, which is why every time his goons come, I end up running. His power is increasing, and I’m not so sure I’ll win if it comes to another battle of wills.”
“He’s turning more people, creating a horde. Their power feeds his.”
“Well, let’s get one thing clear. I’m not looking to turn a bunch of people into vampires to fight him. You got that? When the time comes, you are going to do the dirty work and take him out.”
“Agreed.” We exchanged a look, our eyes lingering far too long. Her glow pulsated around her like a warm beacon, inviting me forward, but I resisted. I would always resist.
The tension rocketing back and forth between us had drained. She may be a master vampire, but she didn’t truly know what she was. She hadn’t lied or manipulated me. I shouldn’t take comfort in that, but I did.
When we arrived at Camelot’s security office, Miranda used her key card to open the door.
A Hispanic man with a pencil-thin mustache and keen gray eyes swiveled around in his desk chair in front of the wall of security cameras. The room was smaller than my closet. The boy I’d seen with Ms. West before was sitting on a bean bag in a corner, playing on a tablet. Both jumped to their feet when they saw the state of Miranda.
She held up a hand, the bloodied one, which didn’t help their distress. “Javier, I need the room.”
Still, neither of them budged. Javier’s eyes moved to each of us, quietly assessing. He was no loaf-around security man. I could see him gleaning the information we each presented and assessing the threat we posed.
Pity, I might have to kill him. I didn’t have time for anyone to get in my way right now.
“These are friends of yours?” Javier asked, an underlying thread of skepticism in his voice. When he stood, his hand went to his gun. He was ready to pull it if Ms. West even hinted it was necessary. It surprised me to find my neighboring hotel employed such vigilant staff. I’d have to compliment the hotel owner when I saw him next.
Miranda explained. “They are here for a delicate security matter, and I need the room.” When he still didn’t soften his stance, Miranda said his name in a coaxing tone.
“Does Mr. Landis know about this?” Javier asked, finally dropping his hand from his firearm. He was referring to the manager of security.
There was little I didn’t know about the neighboring business.
“Nope,” she said, locking him in with a steady gaze that conveyed she had no intention of informing anyone of our visit. There was deep trust and camaraderie between these two.
With a sharp nod, Javier relaxed his stance and walked past me, shutting the door behind him.
“So I’m guessing he doesn’t get paid enough to tattle,” Vivien said.
“We did two tours in Fallujah together. I got him this job,” Miranda explained.
The kid moved toward the door. “No, Jamal,” Miranda said. “I need you here where I can keep an eye on you.”
The kid looked up at me with apprehension. I tried to smile. He took a step back. Kids could usually sense something was different about me. In their bones, they knew death was near, no matter how I tried to blend.
A knock at the door distracted us. I opened it, ready to unleash my full fury to get whoever it was to leave. Timothy stood there with a placid expression, holding a travel mug.
“Very scary, master,” he said drolly.
I opened the door wider to let him in. He passed the mug to Vivien, who shot him a hopeful smile. “Jeeves, did you bring me a special juice box?”
Timothy winced. “Jeeves?”
“How about Alfred, then? Any better?” she asked.
Timothy wrinkled his nose.
