“She wasn’t a woman scorned. Yet,” I said.
Walter gave his small smile to my reflection in the copper walls of the elevator.
He could see himself in the copper too. Vamps had lived with copper or brass mirrors until video cameras were invented. Later, in the mid-2020s, vamp-friendly mirrors had been invented. Prior to that tech, silver and, later, aluminum had shown them nothing to speak of.
“If she had been stalking Evan Junior,” Walter said, “she should have recognized you.”
“Paparazzi shots are misleading. All that strawberry blonde hair in curls,” I said, puffing my hands out to the sides of my head, “and those bright blue eyes. That designer wardrobe. That’s what the public expects to see. Not that.” I pointed.
The woman reflected back in the copper-mirrored surface wore her hair braided into a queue clipped to the back of her skull, and was dressed in damp, sweat-slicked skintight yoga clothes. She was muscular and broad shouldered.
He looked me over. “And not a woman with brown eyes. You cast a glamour over yourself. She concerns you.” His eyes narrowed as he thought. “What do youfeelshe intended to use the amulet for?”
“I don’t know. I’m seeing a lot of potentialities and, as usual,they tell mejack. Nothing’s clear. Just a vague unease.” The elevator doors opened on the gym level again, and we stepped out. I said, “Ojos. Show vids from all external street-level cams for the last five minutes.”
I slid my frozen feet into a pair of fuzzy slippers I kept in the gym and walked to the wall screen. We had named the security system for the Spanish word foreyesbecause we could be watched by it.Ojos, like Walter, was part of our almost-independence from family and queen.Ojosand Walter had been nonnegotiable, but each played a valuable part in keeping us safe, so I had stopped—mostly—fighting the intrusions into our lives.
Ojosdivided the wall screen into eight different sections, each with an overlapping area of the view outside the building. On the street, two cams showed people walking by at speed. Cars and buses and even an old diesel truck drove past, the traffic less, now that it was late. One camera view showed the parking area behind the building. In it, a man pitched a tent between two tenants’ cars and unzipped the opening. He was wearing a down coat, the tent looked expensive, and the sleeping bag he tossed in was still in a box. This guy wasn’t homeless; he was extra security.
He attached something to each of the four corner poles of his tent. Minicameras. He crawled inside and sat, but didn’t zip the tent closed on the air. There was a computer on his lap.
I hid my frown but said, with all the sarcasm I could find in my soul, “Homelessman in the parking lot?”
Walter stepped closer to the screen. “He’s likely part of the queen’s security team, working a perimeter overnight. Youwereassaulted last night.” That steely tone was back in his voice.
I let my frown show. Walter raised his eyebrows and crossedhis arms, vaguely amused. He was right. There was nothing I could do about it either way.
On a camera facing the street in front, Londyn Simms walked down the sidewalk toward the apartment door, her wool double-breasted coat flapping with each step. She wore stockings and three-inch heels, carried a small shoulder bag along with the larger one I had seen at the door. Overnight bag? My brother didn’t bring his lovers home. Not ever. In fact, neither of us brought people into the building to spend the night.
Even Walter didn’t allow day guests to sleep over. He had only nighttime guests, when he was awake, and then only his blood meals, all of whom were friends, not lovers. They left quickly. If Walter had significant others, he saw them elsewhere.
I remembered the excellent suit he’d worn last night when he came to my rescue, the one the bad guys and Labaka had bled all over. I wondered if he had been on a hot date.
“Ojos,” I said, “volume up on camera three.”
On the screen, the woman rang the bell. I appeared a short time later. Our exchange took place. I stamped on Londyn’s foot. The woman jerked back. She spoke her few words as the door closed in her face. I hadn’t heard her parting statement, spoken to the closed door, but I heard it on the cam’s audio.
“You bitch. I’ll get you for that.”
Chapter Five
Angie
Londyn turned sharply and stormed up the street.
“Ojos, stop,” Walter said. “Back ten seconds and play forward at one-half speed.”
On the screen Londyn turned, her coat billowing. He pointed to a faint smear on the screen, and said, “Ojos, repeat camera three, last five seconds, quarter speed.”
The smear was too blurred to identify anything clearly, but it appeared Londyn had dropped something. “Stay here,” Walter demanded. He was suddenly gone, moving at vamp speed, his motion so fast that air was displaced with a soft pop as the doorway to the stairwell was flung open and he vanished into the hall. He was long gone when the door closed.
“Ojos,” I said. “Copy feed from all cameras for the time currently being viewed and save to a file with today’s date and time. File name, ‘Vid Cams Outside’ and today’s date.”
“Copied and saved,”Ojossaid, sounding as if it found that activity sexually arousing. It had changed its voice into some sex-goddess film star of the previous century. I hated it whenOjosdid something without telling us. It was disconcerting.
“Show current feed from camera three,” I said.
“Camera three, current view,”Ojospurred. The outer door opened slowly, and Walter stepped through it into the cold. He moved like the predator he was, stalking, slow, his eyes searching up and down the street, high into the buildings across the way, and to either side. He was fully vamped out again, in protector warrior mode. Pacing to the side of the door, he studied the small pot that held flowers in season. It was currently holding wilted frozen pansies I had forgotten to bring inside today when the weather turned.
