Chapter 8

The guard who walked us out led us through a maze of hallways and rooms filled with people who had wandered to the fringes of the party. What felt like an age later, we were taken out a side door, stepping onto a brick-inlaid patio surrounded by palm fronds and vibrantly colored flowers. The change in temperature was intense, like stepping out of a food locker and into a sauna, making my skin feel tight and uncomfortably dry.

I wasn’t sure how Sara could stand the heat in that long-sleeved shirt of hers, but she gave no visible sign of discomfort. If anything, she was lost in thought—probably considering the mess she’d just thrown us both into by agreeing to help Clyde.

We walked around the Olympic-sized swimming pool, stepping around a group of people huddled together, passing a joint back and forth. Most of them looked familiar to me, but we didn’t linger, and it was too dark for me to be certain which stars I was spotting. On the other side of the pool, we went through a gate, down a set of steps cut into the steep slant of a hillside, and into another fairyland of twinkling lights, manicured garden paths, and burbling fountains.

Nestled against the side of the hill was an elegant miniature of the mansion. It put me in mind of those doghouses that were perfect replicas of their owners’ homes I once saw on some TV show about how the rich and famous spent their money.

Despite how minuscule this place was in comparison, it rivaled the size of my parents’ home back in New York. Though my two brothers and I had all moved out years ago, my parents had no plans of becoming snowbirds and migrating to Florida once my dad retired. They loved that house, and someday it would be passed down to Mike, Damien, and me.

That thought gave me a jolt. The last time I had spoken to my father, he had made it perfectly clear he no longer considered me part of the family. That made my stomach churn with anxiety I had managed to bury away while dealing with all the other problems on my plate.

Great. Now that I no longer had worries about turning furry when the moon was full, I could move on to wringing my hands over my family problems.

It would have to wait until I was alone. The security guard who led us up to the front door took a few moments to explain that we were the only ones staying in the guesthouse for the time being but that staff would come in and out regularly to clean, cook for us, handle our wardrobe—which I took as veiled condemnation of our current attire—and that other guests from the party might end up staying here as well.

He then gave us the code to the keypad that unlocked the front door and let us in. Our bags were already waiting just inside the entrance, next to a table with spindly legs and gold onions at the feet. There were sprigs of freshly cut jasmine and honeysuckle spilling from an ornate marble vase, and the scent permeated the place like a sickly sweet perfume.

I turned to ask the guard which rooms we could stay in, but he was already striding back to the mansion. Shaking my head, I shut the door and glanced around, noting that this place was decorated like some grand hotel lobby—lots of marble and gold shine designed to either intimidate and awe those who hadn’t grown up around money, or set those who had at ease.

Sara, being the latter, was not as impressed with our surroundings.

She gestured at the bags, and I soon had a frown that matched hers. They were both open.

No wonder the chauffeur had urged us to leave our bags. Perhaps Royce had underplayed just how strained his relationship with Clyde truly was. The master vampire of Los Angeles might have thought well enough of our skills to offer me and Sara a job, but he obviously didn’t think we were totally above board.

Funny, considering I thought the same of him.

We knelt by our stuff, checking for anything missing. The phone was gone. My Rolodex wasn’t missing anything, but I had no doubt somebody had gone through it. Nothing much important was in my bag—clothes, mostly—but the thought that someone had been poking around my underwear and had taken the phone was enough to send my blood pressure spiking through the roof.

If Clyde wanted to play hardball, fine. We’d play hardball.

“You have the detectors?”

“Yeah, one sec.” She dug around in her purse, pulling out two small, black boxes. They bore a resemblance to a walkie-talkie, but they both had a red-tinted lens near the top. She tossed one to me. “You get the wireless, I use the lens finder?”

“Sure.”

She did a slow turn, studying the decorations and artwork hanging on the walls, peering through the lens.

She found what we were looking for first. “Camera’s over here,” she said, pointing to a vase sitting on the mantel in the room beyond the entrance. No doubt the camera had a decent view of anyone who might enter or leave. Sara had something similar in her house, and I’d helped install one just like it in her sister’s apartment a couple of years ago.

We both moved closer to check if it was a make we were familiar with. Judging by the way the pinpoint gleam of the lens matched the dull shine of the rest of the series of small, dark stones circling the base of the vase, whoever had made the piece knew what he or she was doing. Not well enough to hide it from someone who made a point of supplementing her income by selling similar gadgets on a regular basis and knew enough to carry a bug detector at all times, but it was a clever touch if you were a paranoid master vampire who wanted to keep tabs on unexpected—and unsuspecting—guests.

“Do you think the bedrooms are bugged?”

Sara shrugged. “Wouldn’t put it past him. I doubt he expects us to do anything stupid while we’re here, but we might as well play it safe. Check around before you shower or change your clothes.”

We wandered around, exploring our new temporary home, getting a feel for the place. Most of the lights were already on, and we discovered the place had a full kitchen, fully stocked wet bar in the living room, a small sauna and exercise room, half a dozen bedrooms, and a sizeable dining room with an impressive set of china on display. Like the entrance, the rest of the place was full of delicate, gold-trimmed, expensive things—and a number of additional cameras that were hidden nearly as well as the one aimed at the front door. Even the matching furniture appeared to be more for display than comfort. The one personal touch was provided by enormous vases of gardenias, their scent overpowering every room.

Sara chose one of the bedrooms that looked out over the garden and walkway leading up to the main house. I took the one across the hall from her, preferring the view of untamed hillside and a sliver of the ocean beyond. The hills might have been dry and dead, but it felt more natural than the man-made wonderland out front and suited my dark mood.

Sweeping the room for bugs turned out to be a damned good idea. I found no less than three in the bedroom and another one in the tissue box on the vanity in the bathroom. Finding them was a pain in the ass, but disabling them took no time at all, as they were wireless; all I had to do was toss a cloth over the lens or turn them toward the wall. The alarm clock beside the bed had an SD card. Popping it out and flushing it down the john wasn’t totally necessary, but it still made me feel better.

After we dragged our bags into our respective rooms, Sara sat down next to me where I had exhaustedly slumped onto a bed. I wasn’t sure if it was the travel catching up with me or how draining it was to realize just how deep a hole I was currently in. Across the country from all I had ever known and loved, under surveillance by our host, and stuck doing a job that would no doubt get us in even deeper trouble than we were already in. The only bright side was that I was sharing this impromptu adventure with the only person I had ever been able to count on. Sadly, she was probably ready to throttle me. When I glanced over at her, she was looking down at her folded hands, not at me.

“Sara,” I said, then hesitated. What to say to her?

She darted a look at me, then back down to her hands. One slid up to twine a few blond strands around her fingers. “The business is probably in default by now. I haven’t been able to reach Jenny, but our rent should still be paid. I asked Janine to take care of it while I’m gone.”

Damn it. Sara must have contacted Janine directly after she had hung up with Arnold. I’d forgotten to make that call. Running a hand down my face, I mumbled against my palm. “Cripes. I really am sorry. For everything. This is all my fault. It’s like I fuck up everything I touch.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not? It’s true. It’s my fault Others became interested in the business, and in you, and my fault H&W is as good as gone. My fault we’re across the country as guests to some strange vampire. My fault my dad disowned me.”

“Hey,” she said, her voice sharp enough to draw my wide-eyed gaze over to hers. “Don’t start that. He loves you, and I’m sure he didn’t mean whatever he said. We’ll get through this. We always do. If things get too weird here, you know Janine has some property she bought out here. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if I borrowed the beach house.”

Beach house. I’d forgotten about Janine’s home-away-from-home in Malibu. Sara and I had spent a week “borrowing” the house for a vacation getaway a few years ago. We spent most of the time sipping margaritas on the deck and watching dolphins pass in the waves as the sun tinted the surf unreal shades of red and orange. That didn’t sound like such a bad time to revisit.

“What happened with Rob, anyway? What did he say to you?”

I cringed and looked away, not wanting to face the concern etched in the fine lines around her cornflower blue eyes. Though I was no longer as torn up over it as I had been at first, it still hurt to think about. “Dad was pissed because he saw the article that said I might have been infected. That’s how he found out I was contracted to Royce. I had never told Mom or Dad. He didn’t know. Didn’t even suspect. Said I wasn’t a Waynest anymore, and that I should never come home again. I should have said something—”

“Oh, stop. There’s nothing you could have said that would have made it okay. Just give him a little time. I’m sure he’ll get over it.”

I gave her a look.

“Okay, maybe not over it, per se, but he’ll learn to live with it.”

That prompted a humorless smirk out of me. “Yeah, I suppose. He can’t stay mad forever, right?”

She scooted over to put an arm around me in a hug. Though the memory of my father’s voice, thick with the cigarettes and whiskey he never touched save for when he was stressed, replayed over and over in the back of my head, I didn’t feel like reaching for my guns and hunting Chaz to the ends of the earth anymore. All I felt now was that I was getting far too old for this shit.

Sara’s fingers tightened briefly on my shoulder. “We’ll handle this somehow. We’ll find a way to make it right. H&W isn’t gone, it’s just on hiatus. Until then, stop it. Don’t worry about what you can’t change. By the time we get back, he should have cooled off.”

I wished I could believe that.

“Shiarra.” The force behind her voice made me cringe. “If you start listening to nothing but death metal and wearing all black, we can’t be friends anymore. ”

That drew a choking laugh out of me. It took me a few moments to regain my composure enough to answer her, and killed most of the melancholy mood in its tracks. “I’m sor—”

“Enough! You’ve already apologized plenty of times. Let’s move on. As long as we’re here, we’ve got a job to do. I’m not going to go zombie hunting with you if you’re just going to mope around the whole time listening to angry girl music and dripping with mascara. Are you with me or what?”

My laughter this time was far less strained. Sara soon joined in, the two of us giggling like madwomen until my ribs and diaphragm ached too much to keep it up. She rubbed under her eyes with her palms, still snorting like she did when she really lost it.

Her eyes were a little red when she glanced at me, her lopsided grin telling me she had needed that emotional release almost as badly as I had. She was usually better at hiding her inner turmoil than I was, but she had to be hurting if her usually cool and collected facade was cracking. She no longer had a mom or dad to turn to for comfort. All she had was her sister.

Well, there was also Arnold, but both of them were three thousand miles away. She’d have to make do with me.

I slid my arm over her shoulder and held her, the occasional hitch in my breathing betraying my suppressed laughter. Though I knew I should have been more solemn in that moment, Sara had done me the favor of pulling me out of my funk. It would be only fair for me to reciprocate.

“You know,” I said, as conversationally and with as straight a face as I could muster, “I’ll bet, when you get back, the sex with Arnold is going to be fantastic. ”

Sara nearly choked, covering her mouth with a hand as she looked at me. This time the tears really were from mirth; I could see the curve of her lips between her fingers, and she was trying her best to smother her laughter. I gave her an innocent look, widening my eyes and batting my lashes. That earned me a halfhearted punch in the shoulder, which got me laughing, too.

Giggling between words, she gave me a mock glare. “Damn it, now all I’m going to be able to think about until we go back is hopping in the sack with him. Man, you have no idea how great it is with a mage.”

“Once you go magic, you never go back?”

She snorted again and shoved me as I waggled my brows. “Something like that. Though you’re one to talk. Finally knocked boots with the vampire, huh?”

The heat in my cheeks was sudden and intense. Sara’s exaggerated leer didn’t help. I coughed into a hand, avoiding answering her.

“Yeah, yeah. You can dish it—”

“—but I can’t take it. I know.”

Smiling, she rose and stretched, closing her eyes as she got on tiptoe and arched her back. Guess I wasn’t the only one feeling a bit sore after being cooped up in the plane on the way here. When she was done, she patted my knee and then headed for the door. She paused there, hand on the knob. “Get some sleep. We’ll meet with Clyde tomorrow, start working this case, and stay busy so we don’t have to worry about what’s going on at home. Sound good?”

I nodded, rubbing the back of my neck. With a flash of pearly teeth, she was gone, her own door soon clicking shut quietly behind her. I rose to shut my own door and start getting ready for bed.

My family might be a mess, my business in the toilet, my love life a shambles, and my neck on the line with the cops, White Hats, werewolves, and who knew what else—but I had a job to do. We wouldn’t forget our friends, our families, our commitments, or our enemies, but we would be safe, and far enough away that the people hunting us would most likely lose interest or forget about us given enough time. Arnold would protect the rest of our friends and family. Royce would fix the mess and make it safe for us to return. I hoped.

On the bright side, I no longer felt the pressure of outside forces pushing me around. Even though I wasn’t thrilled about hunting zombies, Sara was here, and the two of us could solve this case together. We’d make Clyde pay through the nose for our services, which should put us on track to salvaging H&W Investigations, and it would most likely keep us busy enough to forget all the worries we’d left behind in New York.

For now, that would have to be enough.