“It’s an investigation,” I reminded her.
She didn’t seem to think that was enough justification to withhold information.
Everything about the fire nagged at me, and William seemed to have the same concern. His eyes landed on everyone in view for a few moments, as if he was committing their faces to memory.
“Hell of a way to end the night,” Rachel muttered, exhaling slowly as we watched a stream of people recount their versions of the event to the investigators. Each story a variation that boiled down to the same oversimplified conclusion: Some asshole set the place on fire.
That summed it up. Gooseneckers started to disperse along with some of the people involved. I couldn’t believe it when I heard some of them making more plans for the night. Others headed toward their cars, parking garages, and locations to catch their ride share.
“I’m going home,” Rachel announced, her fingers dancing across her phone screen.
“You want to catch an Uber with us?” I asked.
“Gabbi’s here,” she said, smiling at her girlfriend, who was double-parked across the street.
“Get home safe,” she said, gathering us in a tight embrace. She pressed a peck on each of our cheeks and the mask fell. She was scared, not knowing whether the fire was a simple case of arson or something worse. It wasn’t uncommon to be the unwitting target of someone’s rage. Enemies could be as easily acquired as the flu. An ego hurt unintentionally—or maybe intentionally. Envy. Or pure malice. There was also a small cadre of humans who hated the mere existence of supernaturals. This could be one of their nastier displays. Burn down one of the few clubs that serviced both humans and the supernatural.
My gut was telling me that wasn’t it. This was a distraction. But for what?
Rachel quickly headed toward her girlfriend, who hugged her like she was never going to let go. Rachel eventually pulled away. Her lips immediately moved rapidly, and I assumed by her exaggerated hand movements that she was reenacting the fire bursting into the room. Rachel was more dramatic than I realized.
“I’m taking you two home,” William said firmly, his tone brooking no room for argument. He didn’t move, carefully scanning the small group of patrons who lingered. His eyes swept over a small group of vampires and landed on a member of the House of Salvino. This was a smaller house whose members consistently made their disdain for me known because they believed I was the reason there was one less vampire house.
Like the event that led to my job as a liaison, I had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. During an awkward date with a witch who seemed more interested in my ties to the houses than me, I’d overhead a conversation between the House of Pellings’s Elite and a young woman. Initially, I thought it was a date, but after further observation, it appeared he’d invited himself to join her on her solo date.
He was definitely drawn to the beautiful woman and made it obnoxiously known. He spoke with ASL accompanying his gestures as he made the offer to change her and “make her perfect.”
She rejected the proposition both using sign language and very choice words when he persisted. “I don’t need to be changed. And you want me perfectfor you. I’m perfectfor me.”
I was becoming increasingly uninterested in my date, who’d gone from being covert about his interest in the Houses of Knight and Hollows to showing that our time together was nothing but an information-seeking mission. Sad part about the situation was that getting the information didn’t seem to be for him. I suspected he was there on behalf of the werewolves.
I was more than happy to ignore him in lieu of being the woman’s hype team. When she asked the vampire to leave, herefused. She left. He went after her, and I intervened. Following him out the restaurant, I got his attention, distracting him as she waited for her car.
The House of Pelling’s Elite had looked down his hawkish nose at me. A disdainful glower was directed at my bracelet, which had been met with a slew of titles. Those who believed my position gave me insurmountable influence over the largest and most powerful houses referred to me as Power Bridge, House Influencer, Vampire Whisperer. Other titles were less flattering and some downright insulting including Vampire’s Pet, the Houses’ Servant, Belham’s Claim, Corrine’s Marionette, and even Blood-whore.
New to my position, I’d foolishly believed I carried more influence over the smaller houses than I did. The Elite’s hubris and sense of entitlement aptly reminded me I didn’t when I came across the woman again at Cloak and Dagger. This time she looked disheveled and despondent and was noticeably a newly changed vampire.
A century of living as a vampire had given the Pelling’s Elite an unwavering sense of entitlement and arrogance. I speculated that he’d taken my warning as a challenge. Catching snippets of the disgusting conversation about the newly turned vampire, some vampires wondered why the Elite hadn’t gotten rid of Darby, and some crudely referred to her as “his mistake” instead of making her their problem. Vampirism had failed to repair her hearing. Seeing it as a flaw, the Elite had abandoned her to the members’ care. His disinterest in her permitted the cruel treatment she received.
The vampires, seemingly irritated by their new responsibility, found a vicious pleasure in how uncomfortable the lost and confused vampire was in a crowded room where she was treated as an object rather than a new vampire who needed to be cared for.
It took everything in me not to engage them in a battle that would have left me injured or dead and the newly changed vampire in the same predicament.
Making the decision to call one of the houses, I couldn’t determine which one would be the best. I decided to go with Corrine.
After my call to the House of Hollows’s Elite, I tried to muster up some remorse for the destruction I’d just put in motion. But I couldn’t. Even as I stepped over dismembered body parts, past walls stained crimson with blood, and four members of the House of Pelling, cornered and begging for their lives, I had no regrets. The place looked like a set in a horror movie, and the newly turned vampire stood in the middle of it, emotionless and unfazed, while Corrine and her security team enacted violence with ruthless efficiency.
Despite being delighted that I’d saved her life, I saw something in her that Corrine hadn’t missed, either. Not once did she turn from the gore or exhibit any concern about the violence. She might not have been a mirror of Corrine, but I was convinced Corrine believed she could mold her. I had saved the young vampire but possibly helped Corrine find the next Elite of the House of Hollows.
“Don’t hurt them.” Darby’s soft voice had rung out over the cacophony of violence, pulling my attention from the one belly-crawling away after bleeding too much to heal his severed spine. It answered any curiosity I may have had about the amount of blood a vampire must lose before they experienced a quick true death. A lot.
Darby pointed to three vampires. Her request for clemency gave me hope that she’d be a better Elite. Perhaps the voice of humanity that Corrine had abandoned.
The few spared were offered the option to join the House of Hollows, which was one of the rare houses that acceptedmembers not bound by a sire’s bloodline. It wasn’t against the rules, just uncommon. Most Elites believed that a sire bond ensured unwavering fealty.
Rumors of my role in the fall of the House of Pelling swept through the vampire community like wildfire. I was swiftly labeled persona non grata by many. Meanwhile, the Elite whose egregious act of turning a woman against her will, which led to the destruction of his house, hadn’t faced a fraction of the animosity and hate that I had. No, that was reserved for the woman who intervened and got the wronged vampire to safety. Of courseIwas the problem.
The weight of the vampire’s midnight gaze locked on me pulled me back to the present. His eyes didn’t hold the sharp contempt I had grown accustomed to from vampires of the smaller houses. Instead, there seemed to be traces of something else. Regard? Reverence?
