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“No, it wouldn’t.” I pulled out my screen again, forced myself to read the note again and think about the message. I saw what I’d missed the first time. “The stalker is a vampire.”
“Yeah,” Connor said. “I agree. You should send that to the Ombuds.”
I did. There was only a moment’s delay then Theo responded:petra says message was anonymized, so we can’t track directly. we’re going to look for server dings and we’ll apprise robinson.
“What’s next?” Connor asked.
“The Ombuds and CPD are on the stalker,” I said. “And I’m not going to sit around and cry in the meantime.”
“That’s my girl,” he murmured.
“I’m glad you think so, and I’m going to apologize in advance for this,” I said, and I put a message on my online public profile, as big and bold as I could manage:
Hurting people in my name doesn’t help me. It hurts me. If you’re a true friend, talk to me directly. You know how to get in touch.
I let him read it; he went still, every muscle tense, a predator considering his strike. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to me. “I’m not sure if that was stupidly reckless or brilliantly strategic.”
A corner of my mouth lifted. “I’m not sure, either. But I’d rather have him—assuming it’s a man—aimed at me instead of hurting others. Including you.”
“I’m not leaving your side until he’s caught.”
“Deal,” I said. “But first I need to talk to my parents.”
“They’re back?”
“Messaged me at dusk. I told them not to travel, but...”
“They’re your parents.”
I nodded. “Yeah. I need to tackle this one myself—by myself. And you need a beer and some brisket and to put your feet up.”
“I like all of those things,” he said and pressed a kiss to my forehead. Gentle and sweet this time. One in the spectrum of ways he showed that he cared. “I’ll stay. But you have to do me a favor, lover.”
“Yes to the favor. No to the nickname.”
But I knew I was doomed.
THIRTEEN
The favor was in the front seat of an SUV, looking handsome in a white button-down and black suit.
“Mr. Liu,” I said, belting myself in.
“Ms. Sullivan.”
He was quiet beyond that greeting, and didn’t speak another word until we pulled up in front of Cadogan House and he stretched to peer out the windshield. “No sign of the AAM, or anyone else.”
“No,” I agreed, opening the door. “And no unfamiliar magic.”
Though there was plenty of the familiar version. The latent power of a century and a half’s worth of vampires in residence seemed to have seeped into grass and iron and stone, a marker of the power of this very tight family. A family that had welcomed me warmly, but I’d never really felt part of, through no fault of theirs.
“What was it like?” he asked. “Growing up in there.”
“Probably not a lot different from growing up somewhere else,” I said. “Good times, bad times, blood orgies, the whole thing.”
Now his grin was wide, a spark in those dark brown eyes. “You paint an interesting picture, Elisa.”
“Lulu’s the painter,” I said and climbed out, katana in hand. “I call it like I see it.”
