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As he dropped his pants, I found myself at the perfect angle and unfortunately caught a good look at his dick, which was neither impressive nor lacking. But the sight of the used condoms was enough to squelch anything but the most analytical interest I might have in that portion of his anatomy. Larry wasn’t wearing a shirt, but apparently he worked out. At least enough to have a decent six-pack. I managed to catch a glimpse of short, shaggy hair that looked like it hadn’t been washed in days and of a bizarre tattoo on his left calf. As I stared at the squiggly black ink, I suddenly realized that I was looking at an intricate bindrune, made up of demonic runes.
Shit! What the fuck?
What the hell was he doing wearing that on his body? He was an FBH, that much was obvious, so it wasn’t like he had demonic blood. At least, I couldn’t sense any. Aware that I’d stumbled on a major headache in the making, I waited while he slid into a pair of black cargo pants and a black turtleneck. He jammed a black knit hat on his head and glanced around the room, suddenly pausing. I held still, wondering if he’d seen me, but he just grabbed up what looked like a Taser and then took off out the door, shutting it behind him.
As I slid out from under the bed and dusted myself off, I debated. I really wanted to know what the hell was going on here. Something sounded screwy, and I had the sinking feeling that date rape was the least of their fuckups. But the clock was reading close to three thirty, and I needed to get home in two hours. I either had to give up the idea of contacting Roman, the vampire Sassy had wangled a meeting with for me to find out about the Clockwork Club, or I had to give up on Harold and his housemates for the night.
I hesitated.
As much as I wanted to follow Larry, I’d never be able to come up with a good explanation for why I was prowling their halls, and I wasn’t good at winging it. I could use my charm, yes, but with the hormones running wild, chances were Camille would be better suited toward a hunt-and-seek mission. I took a moment to photograph the demonic runes with my cell phone and then eased open the window, slipped out onto the roof, and closed it behind me. Within a few seconds, I was back on the sidewalk in front of the house and headed for the car. As usual, I had more questions than answers.
It was a short drive to Roman’s home, which was yet another huge house. But this was no frat boy hangout. From what Sassy told me, Roman had inherited a sizable fortune from an old “uncle.” Then she told me that the uncle had been Roman, reinventing himself, before it was safe for vamps to come out of the closet. So I expected an older man, perhaps a bit weather worn, when I rang the bell. A woman wearing a maid’s uniform let me in. She was a vampire—that much I could tell right off the bat. But she wasn’t very powerful, and she kept her eyes down as she led me into the living room.
Sassy had a mansion, but Roman’s home might as well have been a palace, although it was too gaudy for my taste. There was so much frippery that I could barely make out the exquisite antiques beneath the froufrou that overwhelmed the joint. Every chair was overstuffed, every table overflowed with draping plants and lace doilies and baskets full of—well, I wasn’t sure what they were full of, but they reminded me of a thrift store.
I cleared my throat, wondering if this was what the Clockwork Club members thought of as old money and good taste. If so, I’d never make it. Not that I really wanted to, other than to check out Claudette’s disappearance.
There was nobody in sight, so I sidled over to the nearest non-white chair and gingerly sat on the edge. Though in the dim light and clutter, no one could tell if I got it dirty.
I’d been sitting there for ten minutes when the door opened, and a shimmer slid into the room. A blur, really—faster than even I could see. A moment later, I jumped as Roman appeared by my side. He wasn’t old, after all—at least not in looks. He looked to be around thirty-five or so, and he had long, dark hair, a beard, and the grayest eyes I’d ever seen. He was silent. Totally silent. And when I stood to greet him, he looked right through me.
Shivering—power rolled off the vampire like waves on the beach—I opted for a nod instead of shaking hands.
“Thank you for seeing me,” I said, managing to find my voice. I’d thought Dredge was old, but this vampire was older.
He circled me, watching me—for what, I wasn’t sure, but he was looking me over inch by inch, and I felt terribly uncomfortable. Roman’s power was too reminiscent of Dredge’s ability to command the room.
After a few moments, he retreated to the chair opposite the sofa and motioned for me to sit down again. Roman was wearing a pair of black linen trousers and a spotless white shirt, over which he had draped a jewel-toned patchwork smoking jacket, as flamboyant as his home and just as expensive. My first thought was Siegfried and Roy or Liberace, but I kept that little tidbit to myself. Don’t offend the man before you have a chance to ask him for a favor.
He waited until I was seated before speaking. “Menolly,” he said, his voice rolling over my name with a rich accent that I couldn’t place. “Sassy said you might be paying me a visit. How nice to make your acquaintance. What might I do for you?”
No niceties, no chitchat—just down to business. Maybe he was okay, after all. I considered the best way to phrase my words but finally settled for, “I need your help to get me into the Clockwork Club for an evening. I’m not looking for membership; I’m not looking for trouble. I just need to ask some questions.”
He pulled out a pack of miniature cigars and took one out of the box, tapping it on the table before lighting it. He leaned his head back and pursed his lips, letting a perfect O of smoke drift out of his mouth. I stared at him, wondering if he was inhaling the smoke with which he blew such exquisite rings.
After a moment, he lightly pinched the end of the cigar and set it in an ashtray, then regarded me silently, as if thinking. I was about ready to get up and leave when he said, “Perhaps. Sassy . . . has my trust, and I hers. If she had a reason for asking on your behalf, then it must be a good one. What do you need at the club?”
Truth will out, I thought, so might as well just tell him. “Claudette Kerston disappeared not long ago. She’s a vampire, seemingly happy and well-adjusted, and she belongs to the Clockwork Club. And nobody has seen her for several days. Her friends and husband are worried.”
He stood and walked toward the door. “Margaret will show you out.” Without looking over his shoulder, he added, “Menolly—you won’t find her there. Yes, she disappeared, but I give you my word—it’s no use checking with the club, because you won’t find any answers. She vanished as if the night swallowed her whole or the sun burnt her to ashes.”
“How do you know?”
“Because her sire . . . her link to him broke. He felt her scream, and then . . . no more. Consider Claudette dead. For good, this time.”
“Who’s her sire?” For some reason, I needed to persist. Something about Roman fascinated me. He terrified me, too, but . . . he fascinated me.
“You ask too many questions. You are young; you will learn as you age. Your blood is strong, and your sire was a powerful creature.” He paused at the door, his hand on the knob, then added, “Claudette was my daughter. I turned her. She is dead, believe me. Now, go in peace . . . this time.” With that, he left the room.
For a moment, I stood, uncertain what to do, but then the maid reappeared and silently led me to the door. As I stepped out into the lightening sky, she glanced back at the voluminous hall behind her and whispered, “You are lucky. Not many who come seeking his lordship ever set foot back into the outside world again. I don’t advise a return visit.”
Before I could ask what she meant, she closed the door, and I heard the lock turn. I jogged back to the Lexus, wondering what the hell was going on. So many secrets, so many hidden agendas and power players and so much intrigue.
Worn out from the night, before I returned to the Wayfarer, I sped to the supermarket. Thank the gods for twenty-four-hour shopping. I grabbed a bag of kitty litter, a cat box, a couple of sandwiches, a box of donuts, and some chips. Delilah would have to be happy with that.
Roz helped me cart the slumbering Camille out to the car. I said a quick good-bye to Delilah and dropped off her supplies, then we sped home. I slipped into my secret lair only moments before the dawn’s blush began to wake the world again. Too tired to take off my clothes, I crawled into bed, and as the sun began his ascent, I lost myself in the slumber that controls the walking dead.
CHAPTER 16
