“How the hell do you know so much about Breed?” Wyatt asked.
Blue snapped her fingers in front of Wyatt’s face. “Your friend did well, but stay with the living. We need to summon her without raising suspicion.”
“What if he’s busy driving her off to a parking lot to kill her?”
“He wouldn’t be that stupid,” Shepherd muttered.
“Agreed,” John said. “He’s probably using her to get information.”
Blue strode toward the door. “I disagree. Men do stupid things all the time. We can’t tell her it’s related to the case, or he’ll get suspicious since heisthe case. I’m going to go speak with Viktor.”
Wyatt wanted to pat John on the back, but he didn’t technically have one. Instead, he gave the spirit an appreciative nod. “Thanks.”
Chapter 23
When my phone vibrated, I was tempted to shut it off. But it was Viktor, and I couldn’t ignore his call. I discreetly drifted into a dark corner of the sitting room in Glass’s house and sent my reply.
Viktor:Where are you?
Raven:Out with a friend.
Viktor:I need you back right away.
Raven:Why?
Viktor:A kidnapping case.
Raven:That’s not my primary case right now. Can’t it wait?
The delicious aroma of dinner wafted into the room. Why did it seem like the universe wanted to intervene with my date? The longer Viktor took to reply, the more upset I became. Glass probably couldn’t smell my emotions from a different room, especially with dinner beneath his nose, but just in case, I crept up the stairs to put distance between us. Some Chitahs were better than others when it came to reading emotions. Hopefully Glass had a dull nose.
Viktor never summoned anyone home for a meeting. He always filled us in later. And why would he want me working on a kidnapping? I had more personal experience with murders than abductions.
I decided to call him instead of waiting for a message. After four rings, it went to voice mail. Why wasn’t he picking up? I dialed again. As I turned in a circle, listening to the rings, I couldn’t help but notice there were no signs of remodeling. No lemon-scented cleaners, no nails, no pulled-up floorboards, no paint, no boxes, and definitely no power tools. There was also no furniture. An open area surrounded the staircase—a nice little place a person could put a few chairs and things. There was a door on either side and windows with heavy drapes along the front. A short hall led to some rooms in the back.
My Vampire eyes didn’t take long to adjust from the light downstairs. A hall cut right down the center of the house. As I walked down it, I noticed the floors were white linoleum tile—a stark contrast against the black walls. I’d never seen anyone paint their walls black before, and it made the photographs hanging on them stand out all the more. Most were pictures of Glass’s mother; others looked like images of his father or other family members.
But none of him.
It was unusual for Breed to photograph themselves, let alone pose for a painting. It wasn’t illegal, and I guess his family felt safe doing it in a human neighborhood.
Another text came in, and I glanced at the screen. Viktor said they were in a meeting and it was important for me to return home as soon as possible. Something about a pack of Shifters.
I furrowed my brow and put my phone back in my pocket. Claude was there, and he was supposed to be a great tracker. The only thing I was good for was assassinations and lighting fireworks with my fingertips.
I peered through an open door and wrinkled my nose at the musty smell. There were several trunks lined up against the wall, and old-fashioned dresses were hanging on racks inside plastic bags. The dresser had a row of five mannequin heads wearing wigs.
“I really hope that’s not your room,” I whispered.
I turned around and tiptoed to the door across the hall. When I peered in, I couldn’t resist flipping on the switch to make sure I wasn’t imagining things. My footsteps were whisper-quiet across the gold carpet beneath my feet. Unlike the macabre black walls just outside, these were a sumptuous gold. Each had a built-in bookshelf, and they were all empty except for the one in front of me, which was filled from top to bottom with shoes.
His mother really owned every part of this house. Her own dressing room, her own shoe room… Except, what kept me from closing the door and returning to the living room was that not one shoe had a matching pair. I touched a glossy red heel, a sandal, a sneaker—each spaced ten inches apart. The shelves had lights and a button that switched them on, making this more of a display case than a simple shoe rack.
“It’s almost ready!” Glass shouted from below. “Hope you like…”
I couldn’t understand the rest of what he said, but I hauled ass out of the room and tiptoed downstairs, my heart racing.
I waltzed in the kitchen, feeling a little guilty about snooping in his house. He was probably in the midst of letting go of all his mother’s belongings, and that was a hard thing to do.
