Death's Mistress (Dorina Basarab, #2)(84)

“No, no! I know what he said! And dawn approaches, and I have nowhere else to go, and they will throw me out on the street!”

God, she was crying again.

“Louis-Cesare probably wanted me to drop you off at his place.” Not that the bastard had bothered to ask. Or to mention it.

“H-his place?”

“He’s staying at the Club. Come on; I’ll give you a lift.”

“Oh, thank you!” Christine looked so relieved, I felt a little guilty suddenly. What would it be like to live for a century being told every single thing to do and not to do? It had to erode a person’s self-confidence, after a while. And it wasn’t Christine’s fault that her master was a complete—

“What are you doing?” I demanded. Christine had jumped up and started to gather up some of that mountain of luggage. She looked at me blankly. “That’s not all going to fit in the car.”

She gazed at her cheerfully mismatched cases. “But . . . but what should I do?”

“Pick the stuff you need for today and Elyas’s people can send the rest on.”

“But they won’t. They’ve been horrid! What if they throw it out? What if they never . . .” Her lower lip began quivering.

“Oh, shit,” Ray said. “Squash it in! Squash it in!”

We squashed it in. After three trips, a lot of cursing, and no help at all from the family, we somehow got me, Ray, Ray’s body, Christine and her worldly possessions all inside the car. Fortunately, the Club wasn’t far, and they had porters.

Or make that had.

Fifteen minutes later I sat staring at the burned-out hulk of what had once been a luxury hotel, wondering why the universe hated me. I couldn’t see much, because there were still some emergency vehicles scattered around, although it appeared that most had trundled off. But the acrid, waterlogged smell in the air would have been enough.

“What is it?” Ray demanded.

“A curse,” I muttered. “It’s the only possible explanation.”

“The master burned it down, didn’t he?” he asked.

“He likes burning stuff.”

Now he told me.

“I’m going to have to take you to a hotel,” I told Christine.

Her eyes got wide. “A human hotel?” she asked, like I’d suggested throwing her in a snake pit.

“There’s some very nice ones in—”

“No!” she whispered, looking horrified.

“Plenty of vampires stay at human hotels,” I said, which was true for those who couldn’t afford the Club’s staggering rates.

“The sun—I can’t—I’ll die! I’ll die!” She grabbed me by the shoulder in a grip that threatened to crush bone. I pried her fingers off, and she just sat there, huddled in the passenger seat, looking devastated. And I began to worry about whether it was such a great idea, after all.

Vamps did use human hotels when up against it. But it was dangerous. Few hotel curtains were constructed to properly block all those dangerous daylight rays. And even sleeping in the bathroom, as uncomfortable as that was, might not be enough. All it would take was one careless maid ignoring a do-not-disturb sign, and Christine would be toast.

I could take her to vamp central and toss her out on the curb, and technically, that was exactly what I ought to do. But Louis-Cesare was there facing trial for murder, and he didn’t need another headache right now. And Radu had said there were no vampire-friendly rooms to be had in town, thanks to the damn races.

“I’ll be very quiet,” she whispered, as if she somehow knew I was weakening. “You’ll never know I’m there.”

“It’s not me we have to worry about,” I said, thinking of a certain half dragon with a serious vampire phobia.

I really hoped she wasn’t hungry.





Chapter Twenty-four


Forty-five minutes later, I pulled into my street. I was exhausted and cramped, and a bag or something had shifted when I had to stop for a red light suddenly, and it had been poking me in the back ever since. I wanted a drink or three and bed and I wanted them now.

Only that wasn’t looking too likely.

“Crap,” I said with feeling, almost standing on the brakes.

“What? What’s wrong now?” Ray demanded. His body was squashed in back between half a dozen suitcases, two garment bags, a trunk and five hatboxes, with the duffel on his lap.

“We have a welcoming committee.”

We were maybe a third of a block from the house, so I couldn’t see them very well. But someone was there, all right. Make that a lot of someones, I thought, as more shadows broke away from the house and drifted into the street, trying to get a look at us.

Ray’s body held his head up so it could see, and the tiny eyes almost bugged out. “Shit. It’s the master.”

“Cheung?” I’d almost forgotten about him. Too bad the reverse didn’t appear to be true.

“What are you waiting for?” Ray asked, starting to sound a little frantic. “Go, go, go!”

“I can’t go,” I snapped. “Your master has a dozen guys across the driveway.”

“I didn’t mean go in,” Ray said, like I might be slow. “I meant, get us out of here.”