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“Then I think there’s more important topics to discuss. Did you figure anything out while you were shuffling glasses around?”
“No. I’m hoping Natasha will want to brag tomorrow, though, now that the cat’s out of the bag.”
“I wish the cat had swallowed the bag and then choked on it.” He finished the table with one last swipe and leaned over to look at his own reflection, just like Celine had—maybe wondering the same as her about his future—then hoisted the vacuum cleaner again. “One down, one more to go.”
* * *
I waited until we’d reached the war room to keep bugging him. “Who does Wolf feed on?”
“Usually the drunks at the end of the night. A little here, a little there, then he shoos them out the door. He’s not like the others, he doesn’t put on airs. He learned not to be picky in his past life.” Jackson sounded like he agreed with the philosophy. “And speaking of past lives—” Jackson looked at Lars, sprawled out in the middle of Rex’s dust, snorted in disgust, then started unspooling a really long extension cord.
Lars had been left where he’d landed, facedown. Now that he was helpless, I almost felt bad for him. I lifted his head and saw ash on his forehead, nose, and tongue from his last bite of Rex. Mouthwash wouldn’t even begin to cover it once he woke up. “Can I put him on the couch?”
“Sure,” Jackson said, from his expedition to find an electrical socket at the edge of the room.
I picked Lars up and settled him the way I would a sedated patient at the hospital, heels up, arms up, pillow behind his head. Except for the smears of dust across his face and staining his clothing, he looked like a king in repose.
By then Jackson had returned with the vacuum cleaner. He knotted up the corners of the sheet that Rex had died on and set it aside so he could run the vacuum cleaner over the dust that remained.
“Do they kill each other often?” I asked when he was done, pointing at the sack.
“I’ve seen it happen a few times. Raven doesn’t tolerate dissent.” Jackson shook his head at the whole situation. “I’m ready to call it a night, even if it’s not dawn yet. We can regroup and compare notes again tomorrow.”
“Sure.” I still had things to do, and I needed to be alone to do them.
Jackson picked up the sack and carried Rex out like a mockery of Santa Claus, trailed by a small dusty cloud, leaving me alone with Lars.
I looked down at the dead daytimer. Had the most defining moment of his life actually been his death? What was happening to him now, inside him—would he be the same person when he came out on the other side?
Would I, if it ever happened to me?
I hope I never have to find out, baby.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Celine was still in our room when I returned, sitting on her bed-throne, and back to being disappointed to see me. She looked like someone had stood her up, and I felt bad for her until I realized who that was.
I wanted to change and put the lighter somewhere safe and fold the rompers back up and keep them separate from my other stuff, but I was uncomfortable with her still being in the room.
“I think I’ll go take a shower now,” I said. I’d picked up my towel and started to slink back out the door when there came a loud knock from outside. Celine hopped off the bed instantly.
“Yes?” She trotted to the door, pushing me out of the way.
The door opened, and Estrella stood outside. When she saw Celine’s face, with her no-makeup makeup on, hair tousled gently to her waist, she smiled. “My lovely, come attend.”
And just like that, I had the room to myself.
* * *
I didn’t have that much time before dawn—if I was going to set the Shadows out to look for the prisoner, I needed to hurry while everyone else was occupied.
Did I really need his help if Anna was on her way? I might have hesitated before Natasha’s demonstration tonight. But now that I didn’t know how many test subjects Raven would turn into vampires before Anna got here—what was that saying, that the enemy of my enemy was my friend? In that context, the prisoner and I should be besties.
I flicked off the lights, bent down, and set my hand down onto the ground.
“Shadows? Are you still here?”
For a time, silence. And then a sarcastic voice. “What, you want us to shake your hand?”
“Remember how we’re on the same team? It’s time for you to help out.”
“With what?” Their voices were closer.
“There’s a prisoner here who’s trapped down in the tunnels in the dark. I need you go to looking for him for me.”
“Do you know where he is?”
“No clue. His cell is covered with a silver grate—that’s how you’ll know you’ve found it.”
“How many tunnels are there?” They sounded unsure.
“I don’t know. But at least they’re in utter dark, and they’re under here, so you can still feed.”
“Why should we help him?”
“Because he’s Raven’s Sire. He’s promised to kill him, and once he does, we can go.” I didn’t want to tell them about Anna or Gideon just yet; there was always the chance they might try to sell me out.
A chill viscous fluid rolled into my hand. Was it just me, or did the Shadows have a little more substance to them? I knew they were still feeding on all the turbulent emotions happening above in the club.
“Why does your hand taste like vampire dust and shapeshifter?”
“It’s been a very long night.”
I grit my teeth and poured them into my tennis shoe again, so I’d know where they were and they could stay in the dark. “One second. I need to change—hide, okay?” I warned, and flipped on the light.
* * *
I took the fistful of vampire-dusted leads I’d plucked from cleaning the autopsy table and looked for a place to hide them. I settled on sticking them underneath the zebra rug’s neck, under the ridge of its mane. Then I took off my rompers, put them back into a box, and safely set the lighter back into my bra.
Then I pulled on the spandex outfit I’d been given earlier and put my tennis shoes back on. Inside the Shadows were cold on my foot and sloshed up between each of my toes.
“Could you make this experience any more disgusting?”
“Do you really want to know?”
I didn’t answer them, I just started walking.
* * *
I ran when I felt safe running, and I walked when I thought I should walk. Asher had told me not to do anything foolish—but Natasha’s experiments called for desperate actions. Even if Anna bled herself silly, she couldn’t do what Natasha’d just done.
Strangely, for once luck was with me. I reached the end of the tunnel—where it opened into unknown darkness—without incident and took three steps inside. Even that was far enough to give me a claustrophobic feeling, as if the tunnel were closing off behind me.
I knelt, pulled off my shoe, and let the Shadows spill on the ground.
“Can you keep track of time?” I asked them.
“Yes. It’s an hour until dawn.”
“How fast can you search?” The quicker Raven was dead, the safer the world would be.
“Depends on where he is. We can return here once we’ve found him, we’ll remember the way.” The utter darkness that made here creepy for me served them well. They could probably keep dividing an infinite number of times, sending smaller pieces of themselves down every possible passageway.
“I’ll come back here then—but I might have to wait until it’s safe.”
“When will you learn there’s no safe place for you here?” they chided.
“I know that. I do.” Now more than ever. “Hurry.”
They slunk away, and it felt like the darkness around me pressed in. I leapt back into the lit portion of the hall and raced the whole way back to Celine’s.
* * *
After that I decided to risk taking a shower. A lot had happened since my last one—I f
elt like I was covered in a thin coat of dust and darkness. I emerged afterward and made my way back to Celine’s room, only to find Jackson leaving it with a bag.
