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My sister. My wonderful, weird, messed-up sister. The only person I knew with a crazier life and worse luck than me.
I’d texted her when we left the police station but hadn’t expected her to call back so soon. “It’s good to hear your voice,” I admitted.
“So look, I’m just about to get on a plane for Bolivia. We’re dealing with this nasty rogue situation down there and some asshole who is trying to pretend he’s a vampire god. But I’ve got like five minutes before we take off.”
“I didn’t think you had to turn phones off on the jet.” Yeah, she had a jet. Or more accurately her husband had inherited a jet, along with his title, when the old King of the East died.
“Des needed the plane for something else. I’m flying commercial.” She made this seem like the grossest unfairness she’d ever experienced.
This was the same woman who had been operated on while still awake just so a psycho doctor could see how her physiology worked.
Nice to see she had some perspective on the real injustices of the world.
In the background behind her voice I heard airport announcements, but
nothing to indicate she’d need to hang up right away, so I charged ahead with the conversation.
“Did you hear the news?” The death had been kept out of the papers, but Secret worked for an FBI task force. Arrested werewolves in Louisiana must have set off an alarm at their office.
“Yeah, Emilio called me this morning right after the initial report was filed. Nothing in it looked especially hinky to me. I asked Desmond, and he agreed. No real werewolf hallmarks to the killing, but I can’t say that for certain without seeing it in person. I’m assuming you don’t think they did it?”
“I’m their Alpha. They said they’re innocent, so for the time being I believe them.”
“Did you get to the scene before they cleared the body?”
“Yeah, it was still there.”
“And what does your gut tell you?”
My gut told me it really wanted a roast beef sandwich, given the loud rumble that must have been audible across the room. How long had it been since I’d eaten? Going too long between meals was never a smart idea for werewolves. It gave hangry a whole new meaning.
“I don’t think a werewolf killed that man.”
“Me either.” She didn’t hesitate for a second, and she was literally the expert on this sort of thing. Enough of one for some government agency in Bolivia to give her a free pass into their country to hunt would-be vampire gods.
Man, my sister was cool.
“There’s more, isn’t there?” Secret asked. “Your text said week from hell, literally. This is just a dead body. It’s not exactly great news, but I know for a fact you’ve already been through way worse. So what’s up?”
Before I could speak another announcement sounded behind her, calling for first-class passengers to El Alto.
“Shit, that’s me.”
“First class isn’t what I’d call slumming it, Secret.”
“Look, the champagne is great, but they don’t love it when I want to walk around. I still get a bit squirrelly in small spaces,” she admitted.
Didn’t we all?
“Tell me your other thing quick. I’ll mull it over on the plane and call you back.”
“It might take longer than a minute.”
“CliffsNotes version?”
I almost laughed, because I’d said the exact same thing to Tansy earlier that day. Great minds.
“There’s a demon living in a sorority house, and three girls have gone missing in a week.”
