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She smirked, her carefully painted coral lips quirking into a bow. “Some people believe that the best way to avoid suspicion is not to declare their innocence before they’re accused of anything.”
“Well, I played it your way last time, and we see where that got me,” I said, waving her inside.
“As I understand it, it got you a very nice triumph settlement,” she said, slinking into the living room and perching on the nearest settee. She nodded in cool greeting to my sire.
“So I keep hearing,” I muttered. “I’ll believe it when I see a black balance on my bank statement.”
Ophelia grinned, her fangs glinting from the low-burning firelight, and offered me a slip of paper. It was my bank statement, and the balance was black. Very, very black. Apparently, Missy’s holdings had been transferred into my checking account. And her holdings were a little more extensive than I’d estimated. But it made sense, considering how many vampires she duped, cheated, and murdered to get their property. Plus, she did charge a healthy commission on her sales.
I’d been raised to think of discussing money as vulgar and rude. So I’ll just say that I would not have to worry about money. Ever. I could live the rest of my unnaturally long life, sitting on a sofa stuffed with twenty-dollar bills, sipping dessert blood, and avoiding any form of effort, and I would still have a little left over to make sure my alma mater named a parking lot after me.
“I guess the council decided that I’ve learned my lesson about being a good little vampire and staying out of trouble?” I said.
“Something like that,” Ophelia said, smirking again.
“The council couldn’t legally hold on to the money any longer without charging me with something?” I suggested.
“Something exactly like that.” Ophelia grinned, delighted by my grasp of the situation. “What do you plan to do with the money?”
“I’m still in the ‘Yay, I won’t lose my house’ phase of processing this information,” I told her. “Give me some time.”
“That’s very normal,” she said, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. Given the brevity of her skirt, it wasn’t exactly comfortable for any of us. Out of deference to me and continued indifference to Ophelia, Gabriel made a comprehensive study of the window treatments.
“We will be getting back to a long discussion of how exactly you came by my account information, by the way,” I said, avoiding eye contact with her lack of skirt. “Can I ask why you brought me this news in person? This sounds like the sort of thing that should be delivered by registered mail. I thought you were supposed to be a disinterested third party.”
“You interest me,” she said nonchalantly. “You’re very entertaining.”
“Like a dancing monkey,” I muttered.
Ophelia smiled nastily, her bone-white fangs fully extended as she threw her head back and laughed. When she was done, she wiped at her eyes and smirked at Gabriel. “Actually, I needed to see Gabriel as well. As much as I’d love to let you and your charming paramour return to … whatever it was that you were doing, there is something I need to discuss with you.”
Silence.
I looked from the ancient teenager to my sire. Gabriel stared at Ophelia, who returned his silver gaze, unmoved and unimpressed. Clearly, whatever it was, Ophelia was not going to talk about it in front of me. And neither of them seemed willing to ask me to leave. Apparently, that would be rude. Pretending I didn’t exist, however, was totally OK.
“I’ll just go check on … something,” I said, scurrying into the kitchen with as much dignity as possible.
“All the way outside, Jane,” Ophelia called after me.
Well, there goes that.
I would like to say that I stood on the porch and enjoyed the pleasant evening air, contemplated the fullness of the moon and my place in the universe, giving not one thought to what was being said in my own house and how it might affect me. But I crept around to the front door and used my vampire hearing to eavesdrop.
I’m a deeply flawed person.
It should come as no surprise that I am not good with stealth. Ophelia and Gabriel obviously knew I was doing it because they spoke in hushed tones that I strained to hear. All I could make out were furious whispers and Ophelia saying the words “unhinged,” “nightmare,” and “Jeanine.”
There was that name again. Who the hell was Jeanine? I stepped closer to the door, catching the wrong porch board and sending an ear-splitting creak directly into their ears. They were now more than aware that I was standing outside listening. Ophelia snickered and said in a louder voice, “This is your problem to deal with, Gabriel. But if you cannot handle the situation, the council would be happy to step in.”
I could hear Gabriel’s insistent, almost desperate whisper in return, but I could not understand his response. I think he was speaking Chinese. I could only speak bad high-school Spanish. Ophelia, clearly exasperated at his pretense, responded with a rather impressive tirade that I could not understand. But then again, everything sounds sort of angry in Mandarin.
Realizing that further listening was pointless, I spent the next few minutes tossing a beloved but much-abused tennis ball to Fitz. He was in hyper-doggie heaven, running at me and making playful nips at my jeans. I heard the front door open and watched with dread as the ecstatic “New person!” expression flashed in Fitz’s eyes. I could hear myself yelling “Nooooo!” in slow motion as Fitz ran at Ophelia. My brain had just enough time to calculate exactly how much time I would be spending in the council clink if Fitz ruined one of Ophelia’s indecently expensive outfits or, worse yet, if Ophelia would leave Fitz with all of his appendages intact.
Instead of the canine carnage I foresaw, I was shocked as Ophelia smiled warmly at my loping mutt. She held up one finger and said something soft in German. Fitz skidded to a halt directly in front of her and plopped obediently on his butt. She smiled again and gave another command. Fitz held up his paw, and she deigned to shake it, scratching him behind the ears with an expression of … well, it was the first genuine expression I’d ever seen on Ophelia’s face, so I can only describe it as “young.” For a moment, the centuries fell away, and she was just a beautiful girl standing on my lawn, petting my dog.
I’m pretty sure my jaw was resting on my chest, because when Ophelia looked up at me, all traces of the young human faded like smoke. Her face hardened into more familiar lines. She narrowed her eyes at me. I raised my hands in defense.
“I didn’t see a thing,” I promised her.
