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“I’d like that.”
He left, and I stared at my phone, sitting to the right of my workspace on my desk.
No time like the present, so I lifted it, opened my contacts, and typed in slayer. I should probably list him by his name, but I didn’t take the time to do so.
Rather than call him, I typed a text. Call me when you can talk. Coterie business. Not personal.
And then I stared at it, rather than hitting send.
After a two-minute debate with myself, I deleted the “not personal” and hit send before I could change my mind.
When the phone hadn’t rung after thirty seconds, I put it to the side and got back to work, looking through Moira’s journals.
Seventeen minutes later, he called.
“I assume you’ve talked to Marco?” he asked.
“I have. You’re invited to the conference building beside TBC tomorrow night at six fifteen. At least one of our guards will be spectacularly punished, possibly more, if the Master identifies someone else in need of it.”
“If he’s raped someone, he needs to die.”
We weren’t on an encrypted connection, so I had to be careful of my wording. “That isn’t the way this works. If the Italians were to take him on, they’d enslave him. Death isn’t necessary — only an assurance the person will not have the ability to commit the crime again.”
“I’m pulling up to TBC. Do you have a few minutes for me?”
“You think you know where I am?”
“I don’t think, Etta. I know you’re in the building.”
“I’ll have a waitress bring you a beer and fried mushrooms, and I’ll be up in a few minutes.” Okay, so maybe it was bitchy not to invite him into my office. Guess that means I’m a bitch. I’ve been called worse. Much worse.
I telepathed Jayce what I needed for Ryan, put Moira’s journals in a wall safe, made sure the mechanism to conceal it was properly in place, and pulled a mirror out to check my makeup. A little more eyeliner and lipstick, and I ran the brush through my hair. That was as good as it was going to get.
Ryan was sitting at a table with beer and a bowl of pretzels when I walked to him. He wore dark jeans and an unadorned black tee.
“I’ve always assumed alcohol doesn’t affect your kind, that your metabolism would be like a shifter’s,” I said as I sat.
“You look nice today. How many red dresses do you own?”
I glanced down at the burgundy dress I’d chosen for the night and looked back up. “You think this is red?”
“Deep red, but still red.”
I shook my head but didn’t argue. “You didn’t ask to see me to comment on my wardrobe.”
“I know what happened in the car.”
“You asked Blade?”
He nodded and telepathed, Our power, our magic, is going to need to know who’s stronger. Blade tells me we need to find a way to test it without turning it into a fight between us. A side-by-side competition.
“How would we set that up?” I chose to speak rather than telepath because I didn’t want any more of his energy touching me than was absolutely necessary. There's only a minuscule transfer during telepathy, but as far as I was concerned, we each needed to swim in our own pool.
“Basic obstacle course. Drake Security has an outdoor course they’ll let us use. No rules. One of us runs it, then the other. We try to beat the clock.”
I shook my head. “A test of speed isn’t going to establish dominance.”
“Blade won’t tell me what she and Augustus did to get their answer, but she suggested an obstacle course that only a skilled supernatural can traverse. She also suggested blindfolded arm wrestling, chess, and for both of us to fight someone stronger than both of us, to see how long we each last.”
