“You can’t possibly believe that.”
But he seemed arrogant enough to, and his clenched jaw of defiance demonstrated it.
I remained silent, letting him come to his own conclusion. He did what most did, dropping his gaze to my bracelet with the houses’ interlocking crests. The jewelry was the one thing they could agree on. Tungsten carbide was an unflattering metal choice for my warm umber skin, but the advantages of having the bracelet outweighed its appearance. It was a better alternative than the gaudy rhodium bracelet with crestsencrusted in diamonds they’d initially provided. Not only would that have ensured I’d get noticed, it would also make me a target for robbery every time I left the house.
A judgmental sneer flitted over his lips. The bracelet wasn’t understated but it was necessary to be viewed as my position and protection.
His expression held the question I’d been asked a million times. How in the hell did I get this role? A tale as old as time. One that I pushed aside because the unedited version would have the vampires fighting to determine who’d be the one to end my life.
“I’ll contact you later this week to schedule a meeting and secure your debt.” He didn’t seem trustworthy, so his debt would need to be a kiasin, a magically bound oath.
I started walking out, hoping he’d subdued his arrogance and had the good sense not to allow too much distance between us. News of what he’d done surely had made it through the homes of the vampires who chose to live in the House of Knight. Without explicit orders not to retaliate, he wouldn’t last a moment.
Fortunately, Jonah’s survival instincts were good, and he followed me out. His breath caught and he sidled closer to me when William approached.
William handed me a bag. “I would have preferred to give it to you under better circumstances,” he admitted. His intense gaze cooled when it shifted to Jonah and warmed when it returned to me. I peeked into the bag at the small hand-carved flute I assumed was from his recent trip to Madagascar. That would explain his absence the last few weeks. I was always aware of when he was gone. The house felt unbalanced. He watched me carefully as I removed the flute from the bag, examining its intricate details along with the strange marking on it.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
I wasn’t sure. Its touch sent an unsettling tingle across my skin that defied explanation. Returning it to the bag, I smiled and thanked him. “The wood feels a little weird,” I admitted. The flute was so beautiful, I’d find a place to display it. This was the third gift he’d given me from his travels, and I loved them, but it seemed to be blurring the lines of our professional relationship. I couldn’t show favor with either of the houses or have my objectivity compromised.
“I expect nothing in exchange. I’m a gifter. Nothing more.” His low baritone voice settled some of my unease.
Nodding, I ushered Jonah ahead of me. He was becoming increasingly skittish with William so close. His hand kept moving over his pocket, I assumed touching the small sphere that had been the focal point of his exit plan. He seemed moments away from using it just to escape William, whose unnerving eyes switched from unassuming vampire when on me to ruthless assassin when they landed on Jonah.
2
The House of Hollows’s elaborate residence was as mercurial and eclectic as their Elite, Corrine.
The soft and warm beige exterior exuded grandeur with its commanding grand portico supported by fluted columns and finished with simple roofline molding to connect the gable. The large windows decorated by stained-glass transoms were more suited to a Grecian home than an estate in the Midwest, but its architecture had a harmonious appeal and charm that I couldn’t deny.
I stepped out of my car and Corrine vanished from view on the rooftop terrace. Moving along the sweeping, stone-paved path, I admired the perfectly trimmed and lush greenery that added idyllic charm to the home. The vibrant poplars surrounding the property served to obscure visitors from determining how far they were from the next property. Corrine once joked that she didn’t want people to realize their screams would never be heard and that there was beauty in hope. Her humor would be considered morbid dark humor if her past actions didn’t contradict it at every turn. I’d heard the screams. Many had heard the screams. She was renowned for her temper and wrathful ways.
Ringing the doorbell to announce my presence, I opened the always unlocked door and entered the beautifully crafted home where the Greek revival influence of the exterior ended and the mixture of contemporary and glam esthetics began. The House of Hollow’s crest was embedded into the light-marble floors. Muted ivory walls accented by textured gray panels should have provided a serenity to the home that fell short of exuding welcome.
An ascent up the winding stairs would have led me to the bedrooms where half of the House of Hollows vampires resided. I had every intention of staying on the first floor.
The teardrop chandelier cast the barest golden peach hue. Tension twined around me as it always did in this house, making me focus on the beautiful planters nestled in the corner. I suspected the large-leafed plants in them were fake but there to give the illusion of more than just vampire life existing within the walls.
I was on edge at the silence and walked softly, regretting that I hadn’t brought my stake of necri with me, if for no other reason than to force an amicable interaction and defuse the situation. I pressed my hand to my thigh where I’d stored a knife. It offered some reassurance as I padded forward.
Rich, dark wood contrasted beautifully with light walls in the living room, sitting room, and library that I passed. The doors with their intricate curves and swirls were used as art rather than pictures and canvases.
My first stop was Corrine’s office, which was locked. So I moved to the second possible destination. I hated this game. She could have met me at the door, or had someone escort me to her. No, that would be too simple and divest some of her control. She liked the unease it provoked to search her out in the massive home.
The door was slightly open at the second likely place she’d meet me. Before she could invite me in, I knocked on the door and entered Corrine’s personal den. The eggshell-colored room was decorated in a series of arches, curves, and circles that extended to the sofa and the boucle side chairs with half-moon brushed metal legs.
Relieved that she’d chosen to meet here opposed to her office loosened the ball of worry I hadn’t realized had settled in my chest. Meetings in her office tended to end with only her leaving and a request for a clean-up crew.
Corrine was on the curved sofa, her arms stretched out and a smile curling her lips. Her sun-kissed fawn-colored skin was a result of her Afro-Chinese mother and Danish father. During our first one-on-one meeting, she’d rattled off her ethnic identity with rehearsed proficiency. I assumed it was in response to a topic she addressed often. I hadn’t met a Mauritian until Corrine. The House of Hollows had a significant number of vampires from there.
Corrine’s expressive whiskey-colored eyes settled on me, and if it wasn’t for the glare in them, I’d never know the extent of her anger. It was a quality she and Belham shared and had proven to be an excellent trap. Their intentions were never given away by their expression, and their displays of anger ended with a lifeless body at their feet. Corrine had only had seventy years to perfect the blank face; unlike Belham’s, it sometimes faltered and I got a glimpse of the lost humanity in the vampire.
She was a living—well, sort of living—example of not judging by appearance. Luxurious waves of variously toned earthy-brown hair framed a soft oval face. The lighting cast subtle shadows on the curves and contours of her face that gave her an inviting, kind appearance. The V-neck wraparound dress accentuated her long torso and skated over her amiable curves. It was easy to see how people were deceived by the packageand underestimated her at every turn. She valued and relied on the misguided perceptions. I didn’t underestimate her but found myself in a constant struggle to assert boundaries to avoid becoming her doormat.
“I said an hour.” The coolness of her voice chilled the room.
I made a show of checking my watch, letting an innocent smile feather over my lips. “I’m only forty minutes late.”
