things you expect that bring back the strongest memories. Walking to Daniel’s didn’t do it. The thick haze outside was the same as it had been since I arrived in New York. Seeing the doorman didn’t trigger anything either, nor did riding the elevator up and up and up.
No, it was the hallway on Daniel’s floor, when the elevator doors slid closed behind me. The hallway, with its closed-in air and plush but forgettable carpeting. An in-between place, neither here nor there. You can’t stay in a place like that indefinitely. You have to choose: go forward, or return to somewhere else entirely.
Sometimes the doors close behind you and there’s no going back.
The hotel-like air seemed to hold me in its grasp. I couldn’t even reach out to knock—but I didn’t have to. Daniel’s door clicked open.
No one should be wearing a three-piece suit on a weekend morning unless they’re going to a wedding. Especially with a red silk handkerchief folded into sharp points and precisely tucked into the breast pocket. Daniel had always been a sharp dresser, but why, oh, why did vampires have to be so extra? I felt under-dressed in denim cutoffs and a black tank.
I lifted a soft-sided lunch box I’d carried all the way from Poppy’s. “I brought brunch.”
Daniel’s nostrils flared ever so slightly. “I know. Come in.”
I crossed the threshold and carefully set the lunch box on the bar. “I found a source. Poppy knew someone selling it under the table from a lab.”
“Excellent,” said Daniel. He unzipped the lunch box, and his gaze darted avidly over the contents.
“Do you want to go eat first, and then—” I stopped, because he was already pulling out and uncorking the first vial.
He threw back the blood like a shot of tequila.
“Or you can just have it right now, that’s fine too,” I finished.
“Does this bother you?” Daniel lowered the vial and paused.
“No, no. Not at all.” I smiled to cover the slight queasiness that rolled through my belly.
He set the first vial aside and picked up the next. “Yes, it does.” He uncapped it without breaking eye contact. Then he tilted his head back and drained it. The second vial rattled to the bar, empty. “Would you rather me get it some other way?” A bitter smile. “Do you volunteer?”
“We’re not that desperate.” The vision of what that might look like sent my stomach into further flip-flops. I slammed the lid on those thoughts and concentrated on keeping a neutral expression.
He chuckled and opened a third vial. “I’m only kidding.”
It was an effort not to exhale loudly. Daniel’s conversion hadn’t made him a stranger, but I was still feeling my way around his new edges. I moved to one of the floor-to-ceiling windows so he didn’t think I was staring at him while he “ate.”
Midtown unfolded below, blue sky gleaming on reflective buildings. Beautiful view. Untouchable through the thick windows. I laid my hand on the glass and felt the chill from the air conditioning compete with the heat outside.
“Leaving fingerprints?”
“Something to remember me by.” I turned as Daniel approached. All traces of blood were gone. Even the vials had been packed away. I could pretend everything was the same.
Until I met his gaze again, and it was still red.
“I may be going out of town for a while,” I said.
“Oh?”
“Victorine will make sure you have what you need—”
Daniel looked away.
“Is something wrong?”
“I don’t need Lady Victorine to babysit me.”
I scoffed. “Who else would bring you—uh—takeout?”
“Squeamish, Zelda?” He moved a fraction closer. “Just call it what it is. We’re alone. No one can hear you.”
It wasn’t a threat. It wasn’t. But that didn’t stop the hairs from standing up on my neck. “Fine, blood. Happy?”
“Where are you going?”
“Who are you, my mother?”
“You’re doing something interesting. You’ve got that look.” He studied my face, then frowned. “It’s that guy, isn’t it? The one from the restaurant. Berron.”
“So?”
“You know I’m interested in all things magical.” He sat on the couch, his arms spread comfortably on the backs of the cushions, and regarded me with his red-tinged gaze. “So tell me about it.”
I hesitated. This magic world, though familiar from childhood, was still new to me. I was still learning the rules. Still learning who to trust. The Blessed and the Gentry were enemies—could I discuss Berron with Daniel? Or Victorine? Or even James, who wanted out, like the Blessed were the mob?
Yet I’d known Daniel before all that. We were friends, ex-lovers, and friends once again. It had to count for something. The fact that he was a vampire now couldn’t erase history.
“Berron says there’s something very wrong with where the Gentry live. He wants me to come with him and try to fix it.”
Daniel’s eyebrows shot up. “He wants you to fix it? Why?”
“Something to do with the Mirror. My grandmother’s magic.”
“How?”
I shrugged.
“Do you trust him?”
“Trust him?”
“Trust him enough to go with him, alone, into a place you’ve never been before—where no human has been in a generation, at least—and dangers you know absolutely nothing about?”
“Of course I trust him.”
The strength of Daniel’s skeptical look would have peeled the paint off a car.
“Okay,” I admitted. “I kind of trust him.”
Daniel shook his head. “You shouldn’t go alone.”
I flung my hand up. “Look what happens when I bring other people into things!”
He was off the couch and closing in before I could back away. “Exactly. All the more reason for you not to be alone.”
“I’m not bringing Poppy.”
“I’m not suggesting Poppy.” He was so close I could smell his exquisite cologne.
“Oh, no. Don’t even think about it.”
“It makes sense.” Why did his voice sound like a tiger purr?
“Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
I placed one hand on his chest and, with steady pressure, gave myself some personal distance. “That. All that. Also, I don’t need your protection.”
He smirked. “I’m not your protection. I’m your sacrificial lamb. If you run into a dragon, it can eat me instead.”
“Forget dragons. I’m tempted to give you and Berron sticks and let you beat each other to death. Maybe then you can be friends. Don’t laugh.” I gave him a severe look as he ignored the command completely.
“I do like Berron,” he said. “The man knows his way around a piece of wood. I just don’t trust Berron.”
“That sounds like damning with faint praise and you know it.”
“I call it like I see it. Do you need to ask his permission for me to come?”
I almost took the bait, then checked myself. “You know I don’t. You’re just trying to rile me up.”
“Are you riled, Zelda?”
“No.”
I was. I was very riled.
Or something.
He approached with open hands, carefully, as if I were a cornered cat. “This is your world. I’m just living in it. But I can be helpful to you.” When I didn’t push him away, he took my hands in his. Red thorny vines of vampire magic spiraled from his hands and wrapped around mine, burning like dipping your hands into a too-hot bath. But as it traveled through my whole being, the too-hot sensation melted into being just right.
I bit my lip to stop the sigh of contentment that threatened to escape. I should have pulled away. Instead, I held on, letting the magic of the Blessed do its rejuvenating work. It felt so good. My eyes drifted closed, and I swayed on my feet.
“See?” he said, gently.
“Mm.” Somehow I’d ended up leaning against him. A more sober Zelda, somewhere deep in the cooler part of my brain, told me I was probably making some kind of mistake. Sober Zelda wanted to know why James and Victorine didn’t make me feel like this when they shared their magic.
Sober Zelda could sit down and be quiet for a while.
“I can do this whenever you need me to.”
“Helpful,” I murmured, the word coming out fuzzy. With an effort, I pulled my hands free, then stepped back and cleared my throat, businesslike. “Very helpful. Doesn’t mean you’re coming with me.”
“You know where to find me.”
“That I do. But now I have to go to the shop. You’re not my only responsibility.” I raked my hair away from my face and wished the vampire magic would settle down instead of dancing in my veins like champagne. Distracting.
Hunger came to the rescue. There’s nothing like a good tummy growl to focus the mind. I hadn’t had anything but coffee yet, and since the breakfast rush was mostly over, I could get behind the counter and make whatever I wanted: Denver omelet bagel sandwich, breakfast pigs-in-a-blanket made with buttermilk pancakes and sausages, handheld eggs Benedict dripping with Hollandaise sauce.
“Are you all right?” asked Daniel.
I blinked.
“Your eyes went out of focus.”
“Thinking deep thoughts.” I scooped up the soft-sided cooler, now quite a bit lighter. “I’ll be back with more blood.” This time, I barely hesitated over the word.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Is that a limitation or a permission slip?”
“Lady’s choice.”
“Don’t you know, Daniel?” I paused, cocked my head. “Everything is lady’s choice.” I patted his cheek and left him there in his glass tower.
I had to return to earth to see to my own hunger.