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“Yeah, probably,” Zee agreed, but his smile was long gone, replaced by a snarl that showed all his sharp teeth.
If our vampire was harmed, it would be the end of the Stephanie Hotel. Heroes be damned, we’d be villains to save Victor.
CHAPTER 11
We raced back down the narrow spiral staircase, and near the final few steps Zee poofed ahead. Only a few seconds behind, I stumbled into the cellar and stopped dead.
Victor and Stephanie Frostweaver sat at a little foldaway table, drinking tea from china cups.
Zee gaped at them.
After everything we’d just learned—the decades of people-snatching, the evil hotel staff, how the hotel itself was a trap—Victor was drinking tea with the Big Bad.
“Is something wrong?” Victor asked, lifting the cup from its saucer to take a civilized sip.
Stephanie blinked innocently across the little table from him, as though she had no idea she’d just tried to freeze us inside Wesley’s room, or that they both sat just a few feet from frozen people in glass jars.
Victor was engaging in peace talks with someone who believed peace meant surrender.
I had to get him out of here.
“Uh, Victor . . . I just need a moment . . . over here . . . in private?”
“Of course.” He set his cup down on its saucer with a sharp chink and began to rise from the flimsy wooden chair, but as he straightened, he jerked back. His hand was stuck to the chair’s arm. Ice glistened on his fingers, and anchored the chair to the floor too, so he couldn’t even free himself there.
Victor tugged harder as ice surged up the chair legs, reinforcing its hold.
“Hey, evil Elsa—”
Stephanie clicked her fingers, cutting Zee off. Ice gagged his mouth. His eyes blew wide. His tail lashed. A grumbling snarl rumbled from deep in his chest.
Anger simmered in my own chest. “Stop.” I stepped forward. “We weren’t going to hurt you.”
“As if you fools could hurt me.” She smiled into her china cup and took another little sip of tea.
It appeared we’d been played. Stephanie was no weak, confused, afraid ancient one. She was what happened when an ancient fae spent centuries locked away.
Victor snarled, baring his fangs. “Adam, it appears diplomacy has failed.”
A wave of screaming announced Wesley’s arrival. He dashed from the staircase, raised the silver service bell, and brandished it as though it were a deadly sword. “Tell me where Eddie is or I press the bell!”
The bell had some kind of power besides just opening the secret stairwell? The frown on Stephanie’s pale face suggested it might. Or Wesley had lost his mind.
“Put the bell down,” Stephanie said cooly.
“No! Tell me where he is! Is he in one of these rooms? Eddie!?” Wesley dashed to the first chamber and peered through the narrow window. “Eddie . . .” He ran to the next door, then the next. “He’s here, he must be.”
“So tiresome,” Stephanie sighed. She raised a dainty pale hand and flicked her wrist. Ice surged from Victor’s frozen chair and climbed Wesley’s legs, capturing him. He yelped, startled and stuck. The ice kept climbing. In seconds it would consume all of him, then he’d be the latest addition to her collection.
I lunged, snatched the bell, and chimed it.
Ding!
Stephanie flinched, turning her face away. Teeth gritted, she snarled.
But the ice had stopped climbing Wesley’s body.
Ding!
