I had a staff member help Angelo get comfortable in one of the private lounges while I visited the reception desk. I found his name already scribed into the notes section of the guestbook. Though he might be important enough for the station to acknowledge him, that didn’t mean he was good.
He’d arrived off the street, unarmed, indicating Rome might not be as wild and dangerous as I’d expected. If one human could freely visit the station, so could others? And could I step outside without too much risk? The thought knotted my stomach. My last excursion outside had resulted in a nightmare journey of survival alongside a mass-murdering vampire. The station was safe—as safe as it could be while populated with Dark Ones—and it was my home. I would not cross the white line again.
If only the station could tell me why we were here, why now, what I should do with hundreds of displaced guests, and whether Angelo was as nice as he appeared. But it did not talk, not with words. Sometimes, I sensed it, and when I pressed my hand against the guestbook, it felt warm and soft and old, comforting like an open fire.
Etienne joined me behind the desk. He peered over my shoulder at the new entry. “Our new arrival is staying, then?”
“Just for breakfast.”
“Do you trust him?”
More than I trust you. “We’ll see, Etienne.” I slipped a note into his hand. “See our mutual acquaintance gets this before dawn, please.”
“Of course.”
I didn’t need Etienne to deliver notes to Kensey, but he had a deepening relationship with my brother. The moment Kensey learned a man had walked up to our front door, he’d want to investigate our new surroundings. Etienne was more likely to keep Kensey from roaming this new city than I was.
“Anything else to report?” I asked.
“There was a little unrest with the Corvus sisters. Their hot water had failed, although by the time I arrived, it had miraculously fixed itself. They squawked at me to leave. I suspect they do not like me, although I can’t imagine what I’ve done to upset them so.”
“Whether they like you is of no concern. They respect you, and when it comes to Dark Ones, that is enough.”
He looked unconvinced. He had a soft heart, that hadn’t changed, and I assumed it was why Kensey liked him. “There were also reports from the staff of noises from the attic,” he added.
“The attic?”
“Yes. Thumping to be precise. I… I decided not to investigate.”
“That’s for the best.” Gerome had once told me how rats the size of dogs had once populated the attic. I had been up there once and found nothing but dust and cobwebs and a deep sense of foreboding. “We’ll keep an eye—”
A shower of sparks delivered Rafe to the other side of the reception desk. His wings remained hidden, but the two little horns and the tail sneaking across the desk to rummage through a pot of pencils conveyed to those wandering through the reception that he was demon, and an irritating one. He wore a smirk that told of all the mischievous things he could get up to if left to his own devices.
“Lynher…” he purred.
“Miss Aris,” I corrected.
“Etienne.” He licked his lips as though Etienne’s name were delicious and leveled the full weight of his incubus glare on him. Rafe liked the idea of corrupting a changeling, especially one as naïve as Etienne. Demons and fae tolerated one another, but Rafe fucked anything willing. He’d love to eat Etienne alive in multiple ways.
Etienne squeaked and pulled his hand from Rafe’s tail, which had snuck across the desk. He flushed, dipped his head, and hurried off.
“Now that the fae spy has gone, we can talk.” Rafe produced a large glass jar and set it on the desk with a loud thump. The station had similar jars in the kitchens. His jar didn’t look unique or special.
“Stop teasing Etienne. He has enough to worry over without you coming on to him.”
Rafe’s eyebrows darted up. “Jealous, darling? Have we not already discussed how you cannot chain me?” He clasped both hands over his heart, drawing more than a few curious gazes our way. “It would be a crime to limit all of this magnificence”—he bowed dramatically—“to a single lover.”
My lips quirked around a smile. “He’s taken.”
“A threesome. Delightful.”
“By my brother.”
“Ah,” Rafe pouted. “I hear the Aris siblings are averse to sexual encounters. Maybe you’d like to put that rumor to bed with a demonstration?”
I grabbed the jar and examined it. “Is this what was so important?”
“Careful.” He stilled, and all the mock humor snuffed from his bright eyes. Their dual colors darkened, consumed by black. “It’s fragile.”
From joker to deadly demon in the blink of an eye. The jar mattered enough for him to switch modes. I turned it over in my hand. It appeared empty. Hand-blown glass rippled in places, diffracting the light, with a simple metal screw-top lid. As jars went, it was utterly unremarkable. But inside the Night Station, the unremarkable was often the most dangerous.
“Will you put it in one of your disappearing places?” he asked, leaning an arm on the desk and lowering his voice to an intimate volume.
He wanted me to hide it. I couldn’t recall him ever asking such a thing, or asking favors of me at all, because he knew there would be a price.
“I can. Do you or anyone else need access to it?”
“No,” he replied quickly. “Just… just you.”
“All right.” I set the jar beside the guestbook and kept a hand on its lid.
“What do you want in return?” he asked.
Having Rafe owe me a favor would be valuable. I’d asked him for favors and paid for them several times.
Jack—the vampire overseer I’d trapped in the demon realm colloquially known as Hell—had said he didn’t trust me. He’d even compared me to his queen, saying I manipulated my guests. He was wrong, but his words haunted me now. I was human, and oftentimes, my only ammunition among the Dark Ones was bargaining. It was how I lived, how I’d survived. But I’d seen outside the station’s walls. I’d seen the real world, and the bargains looked almost inconsequential in comparison. There were more important things in life than collecting favors.
“Friends don’t ask for payment, Rafe,” I said, hoping some goodwill might be enough to disarm his soulless demeanor.
A little smile—real this time—thawed his hard exterior. His tail twitched, then he poofed away, raining sparks in his wake.
I picked up the jar, cradled it against my chest, and left to dress for an early breakfast with Angelo.