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“She made me promise that if she ever slipped into her predator . . .” I left the thought unfinished, but Wade picked up the thread.
Bloody tears formed at the corners of his eyes and he squeezed them shut. “Oh, Menol y. Did you promise?”
I nodded.
“Then you have to fol ow through. Sassy wouldn’t like her memory to be sul ied with the blood of the innocent. If she were in her right mind . . .” He said no more, but his look told me al I needed to know. I pressed my lips together, raised one hand in farewel , and watched him walk out of the bar.
It was too late to cal Ivana, so I made sure Erin was doing okay—she was busy dusting and mopping floors and seemed bright-eyed and happy—and then decided it was time to face Sassy.
Seeking out Chrysandra, I told her, “I’l be back in a while, but probably not before we close. I’ve got one other pressing errand to run. Keep an eye on things and if you need help, Tavah’s in the basement.”
As I dashed out to my Jag, it occurred to me that I missed spending more time behind the counter of the bar. It suited me, and I felt at home serving customers and listening to sad tales, even though most of the time I was rol ing my eyes when they couldn’t see me. But right now, I had darker matters to attend to. I pul ed out of my parking space and headed over to Sassy’s house, trying not to think about the coming confrontation.
Sassy Branson. Socialite. Old money inherited from her beloved husband’s death. Out-of-the-closet lesbian. Vampire. And until recently, a staunch supporter of Vampires Anonymous.
Oh, we al had our own version of what innocent victim meant, but until recently, Sassy had fed exclusively on volunteers and blood bank blood. Now, she’d crossed the line.
A memory flashed through my mind, of a conversation from some months back when I was sitting in her living room, talking with her.
“Why haven’t you gone hunting?”
Sassy cleared her throat. I looked up at her. She held my gaze.
“I’ve started to enjoy it too much. I’m slipping. Just a little, Menolly, but it scares me silly.
That’s why Erin’s good for me. She reminds me of how important training is. Helping her helps me.” She hesitated, then continued. “I want you to promise me something. I don’t have any family, so consider it payment for helping Erin. Down the line.”
I knew what she was going to ask, because I’d made Camille promise me the same thing. “If the time comes, I promise you. I’ll be quick. You won’t suffer, and you won’t make anybody else suffer.”
Shutting out the memory of my promise, I swung into the driveway, stopping at the gated entrance. Sassy’s mansion was in the Green Lake area—far from the shadowy Greenbelt Park District—and it was truly a mansion.
I opened my window and reached out to press the intercom button. After a moment, Sassy herself answered, which was unusual. Janet, Sassy’s lifelong maid and assistant, always manned the intercom.
“Yes? Who is it?” She sounded suspicious, but that could just be me projecting my worries on her.
“Menol y. I need to talk to you, Sassy.”
After what seemed like an age, the gate clicked and slowly swung open. I silently drove through, staring at the lights gleaming out of the huge house set back on two acres. As I approached, I thought I saw a figure running from the house, into the woods, but I could have been mistaken. I jumped out of the car and fished around in the trunk for something I’d hoped I’d never have to use.
Cautiously, I slid the stake into my boot.
Sassy answered the door—also usual y Janet’s duty. But if Janet was bedridden, then perhaps Sassy hadn’t bothered to find someone to step in for her. I slipped inside, glancing around automatical y. The foyer was as tidy as ever . . . wel , no. Not quite. There were spots on the floor that looked like dried blood—smal ones, drips. And the console table was dusty; the plants looked like they were drooping from lack of water.
I gazed at Sassy. She’d dyed her hair jet black, and a little stream of the dye had stained her temple. That wouldn’t come off—dye a vamp’s skin with permanent hair dye and it stayed that way. Her clothing was stil designer but was stained with blood and what looked like lipstick. The smel of unwashed silk and linen rose to envelop her. But most tel ing were her eyes—the intensity was too bright, too glittering. And her fangs were down. She looked hungry, ready to hunt.
I hadn’t seen her for a couple of months, and now was shocked to see just how far she’d slipped. I could see it in her eyes, in her movements, in the way she licked her lips when she looked at me.
“Where’s Janet?” I motioned for Sassy to fol ow me into the parlor. She did, no longer graceful in her movements.
My question seemed to bring her back to herself, for a couple of minutes at least. “She’s upstairs,” she said, her eyes blurring with bloody tears. “Fol ow me.”>“Order up, Chryssie.”
She hustled over and picked up the tray, stopping to point toward one of the back booths.
“Wade. He’s stil here.”
I nodded, thinking I should clean up a little. I was covered with dust and cobwebs from the basement jaunt down the Hal way of Hel . But vanity took second place to thinking that if I didn’t get over there, Wade wouldn’t get Roman’s message and might just end up on the wrong side of a stake.
He was sitting in the booth, reading a book, wearing black leather pants, only this time they were real leather—not PVC. And the glasses were gone, but they’d been for show only. His shirt was a neat button-down crimson number, and his hair was shocking platinum and feathered in an edgy cut. Kind of reminded me of Delilah’s new do, actual y, except hers was back to golden instead of white-gold.
