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“I will make inquiries.” He leaned over and kissed me lingeringly. “Now, do I have your word?”
I sighed. “Yes! Now will you please . . .”
He ran his eyes over me, and some heat sparked in their depths. But he undid the cuffs. “Pity,” he murmured, grabbed his jacket and was gone.
I spent the rest of the morning in the pool, swimming laps and avoiding the growing number of masters inside. A steady stream of gold-eyed vampires from Mircea’s Washington estate filtered in all day, replacing Alphonse’s crew. A few curious types stared at me through the living room windows, but none were willing to brave direct daylight to come out and say hello.
I came back into the apartment itself only when Sal returned from a shopping trip. I helped her carry a few dozen packages to her room, and I couldn’t help but notice that some had Augustine’s distinctive blue and silver seal. He was becoming as famous for the boxes as for the contents. Sal sat a large one on the bed and we watched it do its thing. It unwrapped itself and then refolded into an origami dragon complete with tiny, useless wings and little silver flames coming out of its mouth.
It slowly waddled to the edge of the bed and toppled off while Sal held up what I originally thought was a burlap sack. “This is for you. It’s going to solve these wardrobe slips you keep having.”
I regarded it warily. “Does Augustine know you bought it for me?”
She grinned. “Worried?”
“A little.” I had enough problems without my skin turning blue or whatever he’d dreamed up this time.
“Relax. He thought it was for me.”
“And you think it’ll fit?” Sal was three inches taller than me and built like Mae West.
“Just try it,” she prompted. “It’s the new thing.”
It didn’t look like a new thing. It looked like an old thing: a plain slip dress and jacket made out of coarse brown fabric. But it had been a nice thought. I pulled it on over the bathing suit and turned to look in the mirror.
I blinked a couple of times, because what I was seeing didn’t make sense. I was suddenly wearing an elegant little cover-up in a deep blue that complemented one of the bands in my suit. It had a drawstring neckline, a mesh body and flippy little skirt. It was actually cute.
“It’s called a wardrobe-in-one,” Sal told me, opening more packages. An origami lion prowled to the edge of the bed before leaping off. It was soon followed by a paper eagle, which unfolded foot-long wings and soared to the top of the dresser.
“I don’t get it,” I told her, watching the dragon emerge from under the bed, a large dust bunny in its claws.
“The idea is an outfit that can morph along with the wearer’s needs, allowing you to go from work to shopping to evening with no need to change clothes.” She ran the hem of the cover-up through her fingers, her eyes narrowing. “I thought he was using some kind of glamourie, but this actually feels like different fabric.”
“It’s really cool,” I told her, and then bit my lip. “It must have been a lot, though.” She’d already bought me several outfits, none of which had been cheap. And it wasn’t like I could return the favor. I assumed that the Pythia usually received some sort of salary, but—surprise—I hadn’t been getting a check. And Mircea’s shiny new credit card was staying on his dresser where it belonged.
“We hicks have to stick together. Especially around here.” She shot a glance out the door. At first, I didn’t see anyone there, but then I noticed the edge of a finely pressed pant leg peeping past the door frame. One of Mircea’s masters was loitering in the hall.
He wasn’t there to eavesdrop—he could have done that from across the apartment—and besides, he’d stuck a leg out so we’d know he was there. Why he wanted us to know, I had no idea. But I could feel my cheeks reddening as my blood pressure soared. Maybe Mircea didn’t mind tripping over people all day, but I hadn’t had five hundred years to get used to it. And it was getting old fast.
I stomped over to the door and poked my head out. And immediately wished I hadn’t. It was Nicu, the one master I’d already had a run-in with. Of course.
“Yes? Can I help you with something?” I asked.
Those flat gold eyes met mine and held, but there was no attempt to overwhelm me this time. “You are the master’s woman,” he said. And stopped.
I didn’t intend to discuss my personal life with a guy I barely knew. Besides, there was no point. From Nicu’s perspective, I was Mircea’s woman because Mircea said so. My feelings were irrelevant.
I sighed. “And?”
“Your bodyguard is not here.” He sounded disapproving.
“Marco’s shift starts at sundown,” I said, not getting his point. Assuming he had one. Maybe this was the ancient master version of small talk. “I’m not planning to go out until then.”
“I will guard you until he arrives.”
I tried to remember Marco’s lecture and be diplomatic. “That’s great. Really. But, um, there’s only Mircea’s people here, so I don’t think—”
“There are others,” he said, cutting me off. Apparently, this manners thing worked only one way.
