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“What do you wish of me, Maelle?”
Her gaze met mine, and though no heat flared in the pale depths of her eyes, I knew she was aware of my accelerated heart rate.
Aware, and wanting.
She smiled. It was a cool and very controlled motion that held nothing in the way of warmth. “I wish you to find someone for me.”
“Who? A friend? Or another servant?”
Did she—or any other vampire, for that matter—even have friends? Everything I’d been told about them suggested they were loners—a necessity, given they were generally an unwanted addition to any community—and Maelle herself, for all her politeness, wasn’t the warm and friendly type.
“She would perhaps consider herself a friend.”
“But you do not?”
“No. She is simply an attendant—one who caters to my physical and nutritional needs.”
It took a moment for that to sink in, and my heart rate unwisely shifted up another gear. “I thought that was the role of a thrall?”
Roger laughed and, just for a moment, a glimmer of amusement broke the ice in Maelle’s eyes. “No—not when it comes to the latter, at any rate. Not unless it was an absolute emergency, and even then, it would have unfortunate consequences.”
I glanced at him. “Like what?”
“Death,” he stated, his expression neutral, “would be a welcome option if I was so used.”
“And also very unlikely in such a case,” Maelle added. “But we are not here to discuss that, but rather Marlinda’s disappearance.”
Leaving me wondering what fate could be far worse than death. “Are you sure she has disappeared? She’s not at home sick or something?”
“No. When she did not show at her assigned feeding time last night, I sent Roger around to check her apartment. She wasn’t there.”
I frowned. “Is it possible she simply decided she no longer wished to be an attendant?”
Just for an instant, something very old—and very inhuman—flashed in her eyes. It was all I could do remain still and not edge away. Or, better yet, run.
She’s a vamp, Belle said. They’re supernaturally fast. She’d be on you before you took two steps.
Thanks for that cheery reminder. Needed it.
It is the task of every good familiar to anticipate the needs of their witch, she said cheerfully. I’m hovering nearby if you need help.
Good. I felt safer, even if that feeling was nothing more than an illusion.
“No,” Maelle said softly. “It is not.”
For one confused moment, it almost seemed as if she was answering my reply to Belle rather than the question I’d asked her.
I hesitated, and then very carefully said, “Please don’t take offense, but why are you so sure?”
“Because the nature of being an attendant gives rise to a connection. If she was unhappy—or in any way contemplating leaving this life—I would have known.”
Did her use of the term “this life” simply mean being an attendant, or did it in fact mean exactly what it sounded like—that death awaited anyone who did decide to leave?
“What sort of car does she drive? I could ask the rangers to run a check—”
“I would prefer it if the rangers are not involved,” she cut in. “And she currently has use of a Mercedes AMG Sports car.”
Foreboding stirred. “A white one? With a black interior?”
