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The vamps were trying to sort things out, but it was a hell of a task. I watched through the open door as a couple ran around, trying to catch the tattered curtains that were billowing in through the ruined living room window. At least, they were until one of the vampires muttered something vicious and snatched down the last remaining rod, bolts and all. He then tried to stuff it in a trash bag, but it didn’t fit. So he crumpled it into a metal ball and made it fit. His buddy just looked at him with crossed arms and slowly shook his head.
Another time, it would have been funny. None of the guards were less than third-level masters, which made them pretty much vamp nobility. They were most definitely not used to carrying bags of trash, sweeping floors and hauling out debris. But they wouldn’t let anyone else near the suite, including maid service, so there wasn’t a lot of choice. And, to their credit, not a single one had complained.
Of course, that might be because they hadn’t said anything at all. Most of them still looked a little paler than usual, and occasionally I caught one sneaking a glance at me as he passed. They were the kind of looks I might have given a dangerous animal in the zoo that was a little too close to the fence. Like they thought I might go for their jugular at any moment and just wanted to be careful.
“I think they’re scared of me,” I told Marco, as another one scurried past with the same little eye flick.
“Not of you,” Marco corrected, tossing a blood-spotted paper towel into the overflowing bin.
“What does that mean?”
“It means you attract enemies like rotten meat does flies.”
“That’s a nice image!”
“And they’re not normal enemies,” he complained. “Someone a guy can really pound. They’re ghosts or demons or a fucking god, and my boys are good, but they don’t know how to deal with that shit. It makes ’em feel helpless, and they hate that.”
I didn’t exactly love it, either, I didn’t say, because Marco was on a roll.
“And most of them thought this would be a vacation. Free trip to Vegas, stay in a luxury hotel, and all they gotta do is watch over the master’s girlfriend. I mean, most of the time that means carrying her shopping bags and being asked which color shoes goes best with her purse, you know?”
I frowned. No, I didn’t know. Their master and my significant other was pretty damn chary about his romantic past. I knew he wasn’t inexperienced—at five hundred years old, that would be kind of hard—but I didn’t have many details. In fact, I didn’t have any, just some strong suspicions, any or all of which might be wrong.
For some reason, it had never occurred to me to ask Marco.
It occurred to me now.
“You sound like they’ve done this before.”
“That wasn’t my point.”
“But have they? Have you?” It was unsettling to think that I might be just another in a long line of women Marco had babysat, at least until they grew too old to hold the attention of their perpetually thirtyish-looking boyfriend.
Really, really unsettling.
“I don’t usually do the bodyguard thing,” Marco evaded.
“But you’ve been around a while, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So just how many girlfriends has Mircea had?” I asked bluntly.
Marco sighed. “You don’t want to go there.”
“Yeah, actually, I think I do.”
“Then you want to go there with him,” he told me flatly.
“But he isn’t here and you are.” And the fact that Marco obviously didn’t want to discuss it made me wonder just what kind of numbers we were talking about. “I mean, how many can it have been?” I wondered aloud. “Five, ten?”
Marco didn’t say anything.
“Twenty?” I asked, a little shrilly.
“You know, I forget,” he replied. And then he stabbed me in the ass.
“Ow!”
