Eve faced away, and didn’t turn around. “Uh-huh.”
The clock on the mantelpiece showed they had hours before dinner. It frustrated her that they couldn’t even properly talk.
“Find anything?”
“Loads.”
“Want to tell me?”
“Shh. Reading.”
Okay then.
Was she upset about earlier?
“Eve, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have teased you.”
Eve reached back without looking, finding Cally’s thigh and patting it. “Not a problem, babe. I’m absolutely fine. Now, do be good and shut up while I read the very important life-changing tome with which we may only have a brief time.”
Cally raised an eyebrow at that description, but lay quiet and didn’t disturb. Without her phone, she had nothing to distract her, and her mind wandered, as usual, to Antoine. Here she was, lying on a comfortable bed in a pleasant room, bored for the next few hours, while he spent every moment in pain. She couldn’t dwell on that thought too long; it brought tears to her eyes. The sun was bright outside, and she hoped that meant he could gain some relief through sleep.
The Order would want her to work through the list of vampires they had in Massachusetts, and there were many inBoston. Antoine’s name would be on their list. Gabe’s too, more than likely.
But so would the vampire whose territory was Milton. The one responsible for her mother’s death.
She would begin there.
Her goals and the Order’s aligned in more ways than one. She needed their knowledge to improve her magic, but she was also in favor of killing vampires—especially those like Minh.
Could she give them enough to keep them satisfied, while steering them away from Antoine and Gabe?
Eve remained absorbed, occasionally turning a page.
The hands of the clock had barely moved, and Cally muffled a sigh.
*
Cally took a look at herself in the mirror, wondering if jeans and a hoodie were appropriate evening wear in a mansion like this.
Not much I can do about it.
Eve had slipped away to get ready in her room, and her absence only emphasized that everything hinged on Cally. Her stomach had gradually tightened as seven o’clock drew nearer, until it was an uncomfortable knot at the prospect of dinner with Mr. Alexander and Darian.
A knock came, right on cue.
She opened the door to find Darian looking effortlessly formal in a dark suit that made her clothes feel painfully casual. He wore his jacket unbuttoned, its relaxed fit giving no hint of the gun she was sure it concealed.
He smiled as he saw her, as if he were genuinely pleased to be in her presence. “May I accompany you to dinner?”
“It’s business, not a social event,” she said bluntly, then remembered Eve’s encouragement to play along and returned his smile. “But sure. Thanks, I guess.”
Smooth, Cally, smooth.
Darian turned to knock on Eve’s door as Cally stepped out into the quiet hallway. They’d seen few people, and she wondered if there’d be others at dinner.
Eve opened her door after a short delay. She’d changed her top to a black turtleneck sweater—far more elegant than Cally’s hoodie.
“Good evening, Miss Sullivan,” Darian said formally. “Are you ready?”
