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I travel two blocks on foot before hailing a cab. Always the optimist, I came to the city without transportation. Rune dislikes seeing me almost as much as I dislike him, and this was supposed to be a simple in and out transaction. I show up, speak niceties with the enemy, and return to New Mexico.
But now I’mneeded.
“Where to?” The driver asks, his crinkled eyes reflecting in the rear mirror.
I tuck my fingers into my jean pocket, fishing out my phone. “Hilton,” I reply, smiling as pleasantly as I can fake. “Whichever is nearest.”
The middle-aged driver laughs, his voice deep and unbothered. He finds me normal enough, which is good.
As he turns the corner, I dial Matthew’s number.
He answers on the third ring, voice thick with sleep. “What do you want?”
I bite my tongue at his greeting, not willing to waste time being annoyed when I already have so much to unravel. “I need an apartment. The most populated area you can find. Someplace I can disappear into while I’m here.”
Clothing shuffles across the line. A single feminine, sleepy moan echoes in the background. Matthew takes a few steps before I hear a door closing. “You’re staying?”
I focus my sight on the blurring background racing past my window. Even at this late hour, there are humans racing around. Most clutch their bags tight, eyes darting as they travel to their destination. The shadows bother them, along with the sensation of invisible eyes like my own.
I can see why the Night Order operates here.
Humans are trapped in a never-ending terror experiment of their own making. They don’t need stories of vampires to fuel their nightmares, because their monsters are more familiar.
“Unfortunately,” I finally answer. “You and Francis should stay there. I think Rune assumes we’ve all parted ways, and it’s best if he continues that assumption. Just find me an apartment. I need it as soon as possible.”
The taxi pulls up to a towering skyscraper, brilliant white light spelling out its name. The hotel’s grand entrance is almost as impressive as the giant crystal chandelier on display in front of the lobby windows, which could easily be mistaken for royal decoration. Wheels grate as a doorman pushes a loaded cart across the tile floors, the sound seeping into the sealed vehicle and invading my senses.
And I’ll be staying here, forced to interact with the maids, hosts, and guests. It’ll be even more tortuous than Rune’s meeting.
“An apartment, Matt. Asap.”
I end the call, pay the driver, and cross the threshold of my temporary prison.
2
Jane
The Next Day
Mysmileissowide my face nearly cracks. “Really, Joey, you need to leave.”
My once best customer places his arms on the counter, leaning close. “I’ve tipped you so well in the past, Jane. One stupid argument and you get me banned? This is my favorite coffee shop!”
I scoff, involuntarily taking a step back. “Sir, the argument you’re talking about was sexual harassment. Now go!”
If I didn’t have another patron in the front, I’m not sure I’d be so bold. But as of now, Mr. Page is planted where he always sits, in the front booth near the sugar packets. He’s watching Joey, his disgusted sneer searing into the asshole’s back. I make a mental note to give him his next cup of coffee on the house.
Joey’s cheeks flush a deep shade of scarlet, the color tinting his neck as well. Sweat beads form on his gleaming scalp. “I’ve been coming here for years, Jane. All I did was give you a compliment.”
I fix my eyes on him, allowing my anger to radiate through my stare. “You placed your hands on me,Sir.”
Two loud claps sound from behind his shoulder, causing me to jump. Joey’s eyes flash with something dark, but before I can recognize what sick fantasies he’s conspiring, Mr. Page speaks.
“All right, Joey. I think it’s time for you to hit the road. There’s another 24-hour shop two blocks away and you know it.”
Joey’s eyes flash with anger, switching his gaze from me to Mr. Page. I keep my breathing steady, not allowing myself to succumb to the surprise of this meeting.
Joey’s posture shifts and then he flaps his arms in a motion that seems like a dismissal for the both of us. “What-the-fuck-ever, man. Screw this shithole.” Without turning to face me again, he storms across the small lobby and out the door. It chimes as he exits, painting the room with a new heaviness.
