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“While he’s with us, sure.” Zee poked at another photo showing Eddie and Wesley sitting together by a brook. “But if he hadn’t met you an’ me, Kitten, you know the path he was on. Even without a queen, vampires are leeches—it’s all they know—and without direction, without a purpose, they will always fall back on their sucker instincts. He’s fine.”

I knew he was right. Victor would agree too. Before Razorsedge, before Sebastien and the veil trapping Lost Ones with humans, Zee had spent most of his life trying to survive vampires, fighting for his own people, and learning how best to destroy their enemies. Victor was ours, and he was different from most vampires—more powerful, for one—but if anything happened to us, he would absolutely burn the whole world down, because it was in his nature. But so would I. And so would Zee.

Together, we were powerful. Shatter us, and we’d be terrifying.

If my brother somehow broke us, I couldn’t guarantee anyone would be safe. From me.

Pushing those thoughts to the back of my mind, I studied the red-threaded murder board again—although it wasn’t so much about murders as a history lesson. “Didn’t Wesley say Eddie was a mystery podcaster? Maybe this is all his work?

“He came here to investigate the hotel for his podcast and then went missing?” Zee wondered aloud. “Super sus.”

“Wesley might not be good, Zee, but are we either?”

“Pfft, I’m awesome. So yeah.” He laughed, but as the murder board caught his eye again, his smile faded. As an incubus, he was designed from his DNA up to screw over humans. He claimed all vampires were bad, but he wasn’t exactly good either.

But we had good intentions, which had to count for something. Right?

Plus, we were heroes.

And Eddie needed us. Maybe all the people in this hotel needed us. Stephanie may have had her home taken—if we believed her—but that didn’t excuse potential centuries of murder. “What if this hotel isn’t a trap for guests, but a prison for Stephanie, and she’s been stuck here for hundreds of years?”

“That would make her real crazy and super angry.”

“And maybe the clues were left by someone as a failsafe? A way to get to her if the prison started to fail?”

“Makes about as much sense as the rest of this fucked-up place.”

“I think it’s time we got Victor out of there⁠—”

The bedroom door slammed shut and the lock snicked over.

“Fuck.” Zee poofed across the room and tried the handle. The door didn’t budge. “Kitten, we got a problem.”

I tried the door too, and heaved all my strength behind it, but the hinges didn’t even groan. Being stuck in a room wasn’t so bad, but it meant I couldn’t get to Victor, and that had me worried now we suspected Stephanie might actually like turning people into popsicles.

“I can poof out, but you’re stuck here.”

“Unless you can get a key? There must be one. Maybe the housekeepers have it?”

“Or it’s in Larimer’s desk. Alright. Stay here. Uh, you’ve got no choice. Whatever. I’ll be right back.” He poofed, vanishing in a cloud of purple sparks.

Alone in Wesley’s room, I listened to the whir of the air conditioner and the occasional rattle from the wind hitting the window. It sounded like someone trying to get in—or out.

Well, this whole stay at the Stephanie Hotel had turned out to be . . . not great. Tapping my fingers on my thigh, I tried not to think about how Victor was in the cellar, alone with someone who may not be as confused and afraid as she’d made out. Someone who was potentially as old as him, and who’d had a really long time to stew on her rage. Someone who might freeze him if he didn’t agree with her.

But Victor was tough, and smart . . .

But also prone to putting himself in harm’s way.

“Zee, c’mon.”

I tried the door again but again it didn’t budge. I paced then stopped at Wesley’s bag, and with nothing better to do, peeked inside. Change of clothes, little shampoos . . . not much to suggest he’d be staying long, but he was local so he probably didn’t think he’d need much, not expecting a supernatural storm. I spotted the corner of a piece of paper poking out from under a folded shirt, so I plucked it out and opened it.

“She’s real. Don’t go looking without me.” Signed by Eddie.

That was all it said.

It had to mean Stephanie. They’d been looking for her. Wesley had known all about the mysterious goings-on here. He hadn’t been completely honest with us. Although . . . we hadn’t been honest with him either.