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“Don’t swear off drinking blood until that happens,” I said, “because you might well starve.”
Amusement crinkled the corners of his brown eyes. “I’m tempted to ask if you’d like to bet on that, but I suspect you are not the betting kind.”
“Not on stuff like this.” I crossed my legs, and his gaze briefly dropped. It was only then I remembered I was wearing a short skirt. I cleared my throat softly, drawing his gaze upward again. “Can we get back to the reason I’m here now?”
“Indeed we can.” He leaned back in the chair again, his expression still amused. “What do you wish to know about our Ms. Jodie Summer?”
“For a start, have you used her before?”
“No. Whenever we need to cover a shift, we simply ring the agency.”
“And that agency is Classique?”
“Yes.” He reached to the left of his desk, picked up a business card, and handed it to me. It was the same card I’d gotten from the manager at the other venue. I flipped the card over, but there was nothing written on the back. “Have you got a contact there? I might have to talk to them.”
“Either James Parred or Catherine Moore should be able to help you. I’ve dealt with both.”
“Thanks.” I tucked the card into my handbag. “Is there anything you can tell me about Ms. Summer? Did you notice anything unusual about her?”
“Aside from the fact she was neither human, shifter, nor vampire, you mean?”
I half smiled. “Yeah, besides that.”
“No, because she had some sort of shield operating that I could not slip past.” He hesitated. “It was neither a nano shield such as the one you wear, nor one of magic.”
My eyebrows rose. “Meaning you have working knowledge of magic?”
“Those of us who have been around a very long time do tend to become proficient in all manner of things.”
Not just magic, then. And it did make me wonder what else Hunter had become proficient in. Beside killing and being a coldhearted bitch, that was.
He chuckled softly. “It is a wonder you’re still alive if you’re having those sorts of thoughts around Hunter. She can be somewhat highly strung when it comes to those who disrespect her.”
“Yeah, noticed that,” I muttered, then got back to the business at hand. “So there’s nothing else you can tell me?”
“I’m afraid not.”
Meaning I was at another dead end. Hunter was not going to be pleased. I hesitated, then said, “I don’t suppose you could pull a picture of Ms. Summer from your security cameras?”
“If you give us a couple of minutes, Jonathan will have a printout waiting for you at the bar.”
“Thanks.” I rose. “You’ve been most helpful.”
“But not as helpful as I could be,” he said, expression back to being amused. He opened a drawer and drew out another business card. It was a simple card—black background and white writing—and said Harold Stanford, manager, Hallowed Ground, with a cell phone number underneath. “Just in case you change your mind.”
I accepted it somewhat reluctantly. “I won’t, you know.”
He shrugged. “It never hurts to have an escape option, Ms. Jones. That is all I am offering.”
“Thanks for your time.” I tucked the card in the side pocket of my handbag and headed out. Once I’d collected the printout of our suspect, I walked back outside.
“Well, that was fun,” I said, making a beeline for the 7-Eleven several doors down from the club. I needed a Coke and chocolate fix to calm my still-quivering nerves.
Azriel fell in step beside me. “Interesting is more the term I would use.”
I glanced at him sharply. “You believed his bullshit?”
“I believe he intends to oust Hunter from the council. I also believe he desires your help to do it.”
