image
image
image

Twenty-Three

image

At first, I was surprised she hadn’t mentioned my treatment of her, but she’d always seemed the forgiving type. Then I started giggling, going back and forth between the letter and the random 2-dollar bill. I kept laughing, getting louder by the second with tears pouring down my cheeks until I noticed Olivier standing next to Arthur. I’d laughed so loud I didn’t hear her coming in. I set the letter and the 2-dollar bill down on my desk and wiped my cheeks clean.

“Yes?” I asked her calmly, a few giggles trying to escape.

She raised a curved eyebrow at me so I’d know exactly how weird I was acting. “I’ve put out feelers for the nearby rogue vampires, in case anyone has seen the turned or Othello.”

“There are rogue vampires?” I would’ve thought the Hunters killed rogue vampires.

She rolled her eyes and sighed like I was the stupid cousin she had to play with at family reunions. She kept her tone respectful, though, for a change. “Yes.”

“And?”

Her gaze turned irritated. “And nothing. They haven’t seen anything. No one has seen anything. Not the humans, not the rogues, not anyone. The turned disappeared into thin air.”

I leaned back in the enormous desk chair and thought it over for a few minutes. “What about the packs?”

Olivier and Arthur both gave me shocked looks, that I would even consider involving the Lycans in our problems. You’d think I’d just stripped naked for their horror. I rolled my eyes at them and sighed.

“Fine. Let’s ignore a completely legitimate alternative to finding Othello. Who knows? Maybe one day we’ll find his corpse at the bottom of the Grand Canyon.”

Olivier frowned at me. “With all due respect, Madam Lisbeth, I would rather tear off my own head than side with the Lycans.”

“We mean this with complete reverence for your position, but your opinion on this matter is biased,” Arthur added, though with less venom than Olivier.

And there it was, my new life laid out so finely before me. People would no longer be willing to speak informally to me. It would be, with respect this, and Madam Lisbeth that. I wanted to curse Othello’s name under the burning sun for being kidnapped, and then curse myself for being the next oldest.

I slumped further into my giant chair and sighed again. My stomach jumped a few times as if the child inside was checking to make sure I was okay. I rubbed near where the kicking was going on to reassure her, and she calmed down.

“We apologize,” Arthur said with a more even tone. “We are causing distress to your child.”

I laughed a few times ironically. “This entire job is causing distress to both of us.” And magically, they both relaxed and the formal tone left the room. I rubbed my belly in thanks. “Look,” I started. “I don’t want you two acting like that around me. No ‘Madam Lisbeth’, or ‘with respect.’ Not when we’re alone. You’re both my friends.” I glanced over at Arthur. “Sort of,” I added. “Let me pose the question again. The Lycans could help us.”

“No,” Olivier said with a firm shake of her head. “We don’t need them. We’ll never need them. We can find Othello and the turned on our own.”

“And if you can’t?” I asked her.

Arthur crossed his hands over his chest. “Have faith in our skills.”

“Fine,” I answered in defeat.

image