He hadn’t actually been part of the battle, but he certainly looked worse for wear. His face was red and puffy, his collar unbuttoned, chest pumping to pull in breath.
Sanford waved off some of the men and women around him, loosened his tie. “Give me room. Let me breathe, for Christ’s sake.”
He looked up at Ethan, then me. “You saved my life.”
“We did what anyone would have done,” Ethan said, belied by the humans who’d taken the time to record the fight but hadn’t offered to help, and probably so they could sell the video to the highest bidder.
Adrien Reed stalked down the stairs, fury radiating in his expression, his eyes on us, then the men on the floor.
Reed leaned down, ripped the mask off the vampire Ethan had bested. He was pale, with blond hair so light it was nearly white, and watery blue eyes. I didn’t recognize him, and from Ethan’s flat expression, he didn’t, either.
Reed looked up at us. When we shook our heads, he moved to the second vampire, ripped the mask away, revealing familiar curly blond hair.
Oh shit, was my first thought.
Why? was my second.
As I’d suspected during the fight, I knew him. It was Will. The captain of the Navarre House guards.
* * *
I’d seen men angry before. Powerful men, supernatural men, whose anger seemed to rage like fire.
I’d never seen a man whose anger was as cold as Adrien Reed’s.
The vampires sat on the floor of Reed’s office beneath the point of our blades, and the barrels of handguns held by more of Reed’s bodyguards.
We hadn’t yet had a chance to talk to the vampires, so we were still in the dark about why, precisely, they’d come to Reed’s house to attack Sanford King. I had found my purse and taken a moment to update Brody and my grandfather, asked him to ensure that an ambulance for the bodyguard was en route, and to pass word to Morgan, the Master of Navarre House. He’d have to deal with this one way or the other.
Reed hadn’t spoken a word. Instead he watched with silent condemnation. His body was rigid, his eyes like frozen granite, hands in his pockets, lording his power over them.
“Mr. Reed,” said a man in a dark suit over a dark shirt, his voice as prim and proper, his stance slightly subservient. A butler, I guessed. “The police have arrived.”
Ethan and I exchanged a glance. It wasn’t surprising the CPD had been called—God knew there’d been plenty of humans to make that call—but it promised the incident wasn’t over.
Reed nodded, then crouched down in front of the intruders. “Who sent you?”
Both of them looked away, like schoolboys with secrets.
But Reed wasn’t accustomed to anyone defying him. He took Will’s chin roughly between two fingers. “I asked you a question. Who . . . sent . . . you . . . here?”
The tone, equally frigid and furious, lifted goose bumps on my arms.
Will was either brave or stupid. Or worse, and more likely, a deadly combination of both. He jerked his face away, Reed’s grip leaving red marks across pale skin. “Sanford King is a monster.”
So they’re vigilantes? I wondered. They believe they’re on some sort of mission?
If so, Ethan asked, why fight us? We’re not the enemies. And why here, putting so many humans at risk? That doesn’t fit with the notion they’re punishing King for transgressions against humans.
He had a point. This was clearly a targeted attack—an attempt to get to Sanford King—and an oddly planned one.
The office doors opened, revealing my grandfather, in khaki pants and a button-up plaid shirt. He moved quickly with the help of a cane it didn’t seem he’d need much longer.
In addition to several uniforms, my grandfather was followed by Arthur Jacobs, a CPD detective and good friend to supernaturals. Relief sang through me. Vampires attempting to kill an unarmed human was horrific, and having detectives unfamiliar with the city’s vampires wouldn’t have helped the aftermath.
Ethan pulled off his tuxedo jacket, draped it over my shoulders.
So as not to shock and awe your grandfather, he said as I pushed my arms into the sleeves and pulled the front panels together. I thought my bodice would hold, but I was essentially naked beneath, so there was no point in tempting fate.
My father, who’d only recently learned of my grandfather’s position and hadn’t been thrilled about it, certainly didn’t look excited to see him now. He should have. My grandfather was the only thing currently standing between humans, vampires, and full-on panic.
“Mr. Reed,” my grandfather said. “I’m sorry to meet you under these circumstances.”
Reed’s expression didn’t change. “I’m interested in answers. Not excuses.”
“And you’ll get them,” Jacobs said, stepping forward and introducing himself.
He and my grandfather looked at us, nodded. My grandfather’s eyes widened at the sight of my dress beneath the jacket, and the gash on Ethan’s arm.
“The EMTs are downstairs with your bodyguard,” Jacobs said to Reed. “Let’s take the rest of this one step at a time. Your guests are excited and nervous, and we’ll need to interview the vampires before we book them. Why don’t you speak to your guests while we do that? Then Chuck can get your statement. That seems most efficient, and we won’t want to make tonight any more difficult than it’s already been.”
Arthur Jacobs was a good man and a good detective. He’d never been particularly argumentative, but I’d also never seen him quite as ingratiating as this. Reed, I guessed, had friends in very high places. I wondered how much that was going to cost us.
Sanford waved off some of the men and women around him, loosened his tie. “Give me room. Let me breathe, for Christ’s sake.”
He looked up at Ethan, then me. “You saved my life.”
“We did what anyone would have done,” Ethan said, belied by the humans who’d taken the time to record the fight but hadn’t offered to help, and probably so they could sell the video to the highest bidder.
Adrien Reed stalked down the stairs, fury radiating in his expression, his eyes on us, then the men on the floor.
Reed leaned down, ripped the mask off the vampire Ethan had bested. He was pale, with blond hair so light it was nearly white, and watery blue eyes. I didn’t recognize him, and from Ethan’s flat expression, he didn’t, either.
Reed looked up at us. When we shook our heads, he moved to the second vampire, ripped the mask away, revealing familiar curly blond hair.
Oh shit, was my first thought.
Why? was my second.
As I’d suspected during the fight, I knew him. It was Will. The captain of the Navarre House guards.
* * *
I’d seen men angry before. Powerful men, supernatural men, whose anger seemed to rage like fire.
I’d never seen a man whose anger was as cold as Adrien Reed’s.
The vampires sat on the floor of Reed’s office beneath the point of our blades, and the barrels of handguns held by more of Reed’s bodyguards.
We hadn’t yet had a chance to talk to the vampires, so we were still in the dark about why, precisely, they’d come to Reed’s house to attack Sanford King. I had found my purse and taken a moment to update Brody and my grandfather, asked him to ensure that an ambulance for the bodyguard was en route, and to pass word to Morgan, the Master of Navarre House. He’d have to deal with this one way or the other.
Reed hadn’t spoken a word. Instead he watched with silent condemnation. His body was rigid, his eyes like frozen granite, hands in his pockets, lording his power over them.
“Mr. Reed,” said a man in a dark suit over a dark shirt, his voice as prim and proper, his stance slightly subservient. A butler, I guessed. “The police have arrived.”
Ethan and I exchanged a glance. It wasn’t surprising the CPD had been called—God knew there’d been plenty of humans to make that call—but it promised the incident wasn’t over.
Reed nodded, then crouched down in front of the intruders. “Who sent you?”
Both of them looked away, like schoolboys with secrets.
But Reed wasn’t accustomed to anyone defying him. He took Will’s chin roughly between two fingers. “I asked you a question. Who . . . sent . . . you . . . here?”
The tone, equally frigid and furious, lifted goose bumps on my arms.
Will was either brave or stupid. Or worse, and more likely, a deadly combination of both. He jerked his face away, Reed’s grip leaving red marks across pale skin. “Sanford King is a monster.”
So they’re vigilantes? I wondered. They believe they’re on some sort of mission?
If so, Ethan asked, why fight us? We’re not the enemies. And why here, putting so many humans at risk? That doesn’t fit with the notion they’re punishing King for transgressions against humans.
He had a point. This was clearly a targeted attack—an attempt to get to Sanford King—and an oddly planned one.
The office doors opened, revealing my grandfather, in khaki pants and a button-up plaid shirt. He moved quickly with the help of a cane it didn’t seem he’d need much longer.
In addition to several uniforms, my grandfather was followed by Arthur Jacobs, a CPD detective and good friend to supernaturals. Relief sang through me. Vampires attempting to kill an unarmed human was horrific, and having detectives unfamiliar with the city’s vampires wouldn’t have helped the aftermath.
Ethan pulled off his tuxedo jacket, draped it over my shoulders.
So as not to shock and awe your grandfather, he said as I pushed my arms into the sleeves and pulled the front panels together. I thought my bodice would hold, but I was essentially naked beneath, so there was no point in tempting fate.
My father, who’d only recently learned of my grandfather’s position and hadn’t been thrilled about it, certainly didn’t look excited to see him now. He should have. My grandfather was the only thing currently standing between humans, vampires, and full-on panic.
“Mr. Reed,” my grandfather said. “I’m sorry to meet you under these circumstances.”
Reed’s expression didn’t change. “I’m interested in answers. Not excuses.”
“And you’ll get them,” Jacobs said, stepping forward and introducing himself.
He and my grandfather looked at us, nodded. My grandfather’s eyes widened at the sight of my dress beneath the jacket, and the gash on Ethan’s arm.
“The EMTs are downstairs with your bodyguard,” Jacobs said to Reed. “Let’s take the rest of this one step at a time. Your guests are excited and nervous, and we’ll need to interview the vampires before we book them. Why don’t you speak to your guests while we do that? Then Chuck can get your statement. That seems most efficient, and we won’t want to make tonight any more difficult than it’s already been.”
Arthur Jacobs was a good man and a good detective. He’d never been particularly argumentative, but I’d also never seen him quite as ingratiating as this. Reed, I guessed, had friends in very high places. I wondered how much that was going to cost us.
