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Saint huffed a sigh. “Fine, I’m ravenous anyway. I’ll go in, kill whoever is at the front desk, then anyone else spending the night, and we’ll have the entire place to ourselves. How does that sound?”
“What, no, don’t—”
Saint left the car and strode toward the lobby area, all swagger and confidence.Fuck.Would he kill everyone here? No, he wouldn’t do it. It didn’t make any sense. Why draw that much attention to himself?
Swearing, Octavius tossed a glance at Jayden, checking he was still asleep, and then hurried after Saint.
Saint threw him an infuriating know-it-all grin and opened the lobby door.
A little bell tinkled. Saint looked up. “Quaint.” He flashed a smile at the woman behind the front desk. “Hello, there,” he said, in a very non-American accent. English? South African? Australian? Octavius struggled to place it. “My friend and I were wondering if you had a couple of rooms in this fine establishment?”
Janice, her name badge said. Octavius hung back, unsure if he was about to witness Janice’s last few minutes alive—not that he cared. But Janice’s death would bring more humans snooping around, then the cops, and all that furor might catch Mikalis’s eye. Better to slide in under the radar, especially as he needed more time to figure out his next move.
Janice eyed Saint and then skipped her gaze to Octavius. Granted, they were a lot to take in. Saint was dressed as though he’d just left a wedding party, and Octavius still wore the same stained hooded top and black pants he’d had on when he’d tousled with Mikalis and Saint in the street. He likely smelled like wood smoke, blood, diesel, and a whole array of other potent scents. And then there was the hair. Men with platinum blond hair were… rare.
He and Saint made an odd pair.
“Oh, and my other friend, in the car back there.” Saint chuckled. ”He’s er… Well, he had too much to drink.”
It wasn’t just the accent. Saint’s body language had changed too, like a chameleon blending in with its environment, except the accent was way off if he was trying to blend in with the Missouri locals. Perhaps that was the point—disarm Janice with too many unusual variables so she didn’t think to ask questions.
“Welcome to the Sleepy Lion,” she drawled, unimpressed. “I’ve got two adjoining doubles. I just need your names, addresses, and phone numbers on this form. It’s seventy bucks a night.”
“Right, yes, names…” Saint grabbed the form. “Octavius, would you like to step in?”
“No.” He folded his arms and leaned a hip against the desk. Frankly, he wanted to see how this was going to play out.
“Really?” Saint lifted his gaze. “You’re just going to watch?”
Janice glanced at them both, sensing the tone had changed but not yet understanding why her instincts were beginning to ring alarm bells.
“Fine then. Although your way is far more discreet.” Saint leaped over the desk, grabbed Janice, and shoved her down into her chair.
It shouldn’t have mattered. Octavius shouldn’t have cared. And he didn’t, not about Janice. He cared that Saint did not win this, that his nyktelios ways were wrong and there was a different way.“Stop,”he pushed into Saint’s mind.
The ancient nyk flung his head around and growled. “Not me, use it onher.”
“Oh, really? I’m so sorry. I misunderstood,” he drawled, heavy on the sarcasm.
Octavius spied the camera above the door. He reached up and yanked the power cable out, then joined Janice and Saint behind the desk. From how wide Janice’s pupils had blown, she was surely already second-guessing her life choices, now that she was pinned under Saint’s hands.
Octavius glanced at the map of the motel on her desk, spotted two adjoining rooms, and turned to Janice. He gripped the back of her chair and leaned down. His shoulder brushed Saint’s, igniting a blast of tight little shivers that made his insides flutter in inexplicable ways.
He peered into Janice’s watery eyes.“Rooms 102 and 103 are occupied. You don’t know by who, and you do not care. When you finish your shift, you will explain this to whoever takes over. You’ll forget this conversation ever happened. Do this, and you will be safe.”He turned his head and found Saint so close he could see silver facets in his eyes. “Nobody is going to hurt you,” he said aloud, so Saint heard too.
Octavius straightened. “You can let her go. She won’t stop us.”
Saint stepped back and watched as Janice blinked a few times, then relaxed in her chair and stared though them, as though they did not exist.
Octavius typed a few commands into the computer and scanned two keycards. He gave one to Saint, who stared at him, his face deliberately blank. Octavius’s skill with manipulating minds typically earned him that look. Once people learned he could manipulate them, few trusted him.
“That’s an impressive talent,” Saint said, reverting back to his typical American accent as they left the lobby.
“It once got me burned at the stake.”
Saint’s steps faltered.
Octavius smiled over his shoulder. “As a witch.” He faced ahead again and sauntered under the motel’s long wraparound porch to Room 103. The surprise on Saint’s face had been real, and satisfying. If Octavius could surprise an ancient nyk, then he could outwit one too.
