“Oh,” I said, giving a noncommittal shrug.
“Yeah.” He stubbed out his cigarette on the bottom of his shoe and then buried it in a potted plant. “I better see what Spooks is up to. Did he ever mention the party that took place next to a cemetery?”
“No.”
Shepherd stood and brushed his hand over his buzz cut. “He didn’t realize at first that there were uninvited guests, if you know what I mean.”
“How could henotknow? He’s a Gravewalker.”
“I guess it’s sometimes hard to tell the dead from the living in a crowd. He mentioned that ghosts don’t have shadows, and there were candles all over the place.”
I crossed my ankles. “What happened?”
“He flipped out and made a big fucking scene. Turns out he was hitting on a dead chick. That’s when a bunch of them followed us home. Viktor almost stopped inviting him to parties, but the boss man wants us to do everything as a team.” Shepherd moseyed toward the door. “He thinks like a Packmaster. You let one or two people do their own thing, and you’ll have dissention in the ranks. That’s pack mentality. Don’t hide in here all night,” he said, rapping his knuckles on the wall as he left the room.
I slid off the desk and looked at the adjacent room through the glass door. When I grew up watching vampire movies, I never imagined one having a sunroom filled with plants. Beyond the outside windows, white lights meticulously strung around the tree trunks radiated enough ambient light inside to see.
So this is your private office.
I was tempted to peek inside the drawers but not at the risk of someone catching me. Instead, I strolled around the room, studying the photographs on the wall. An old black-and-white picture caught my eye. Lenore’s pale dress looked dated, her hair styled in finger waves. It wasn’t the best quality photograph—grainy and faded from the years gone by. The small group posed with solemn expressions, all dressed to the nines in fancy dinner jackets and dresses. Why didn’t people back then ever smile in photographs? I looked twice when I spotted a familiar face behind her.
Oh my God, that’s Christian.
He looked so different without his beard and signature malevolent gaze. A jovial sparkle flickered in his eyes, and unlike the other men who sported panama hats, Christian had on a black bowler. The picture must have been from the 1920s or ’30s, before she buried him. I examined every detail.Whowasthat guy?Not the same Christian I knew. It was as if he’d been reborn and become a different man. I wondered which had affected him more: the murders he’d committed on Lenore’s behalf or spending ten years in a coffin.
I rounded a potted palm tree and studied another photograph of Lenore, this one of her posing on a beach in a polka-dot bikini and retro cat-eye sunglasses. In another, two older women wearing pearl necklaces and large brooches flanked her. Were these people still around? Why did she have their photographs? Lenore didn’t strike me as the sentimental type. Then again, one could say the same about me.
A familiar song echoed in the hallway, one that seemed to have escaped the era that the photographs were taken in. Lenore didn’t have any recent pictures, but that likely had to do with the changing laws and awareness of how immortals could be tracked through historical images. In the early days, photographs were a novelty, and people probably didn’t expect them to be preserved and last this long. I drifted to the right-hand corner of the room and placed my fingertips on the smooth marble tabletop. Above a tall vase hung a picture of Lenore sitting on a tufted sofa next to a dark-haired man. I inched closer for a better look.
Holy shit.
The gentleman next to her looked so damn familiar, but it wasn’t until I covered his dark hair with my thumb that I recognized Houdini.
“There you are.” Lenore startled me so badly that my arm knocked into the vase.
She shadow walked around the corner in a blink and caught the decorative piece. “It’s Egyptian. I paid half a million for it back in 1928, but I’m sure it’s worth a lot more now.”
“Sorry. I was just looking around.”
“I see.” She set the vase back on the shelf.
Even in the dark, Lenore’s dress shimmered like deep waters under moonlight.
She moved the vase an inch to the left. “If you want to know a secret, never give all your money to a banker. Cash depreciates, and we don’t make a habit of investing in human stocks. Funnel your money into things like gold, artwork, Breed collectibles, and real estate. Gemstones rarely appreciate in value unless there’s history attached to them. I suppose you learned that from the auction.”
I touched my ruby necklace, which she was eyeing. “So that’s why you hoard all this stuff.”
“Stuff.”She chuckled softly. “The curiosities you see in most people’s homes aren’t sentimental. Some of it perhaps. But most of us like to keep the valuables close. Although I do think it’s worth having a few hiding spots. Just make sure you own the land. Many a fool has gone back to a place they buried gold and discovered a parking lot or condominium.”
“If that’s the case, maybe land is more valuable than gold. Unless the city decides to build a highway through it and forces you off.”
She wrinkled her brow. “They do that?”
“You’ve been away a long time.”
Lenore’s gaze latched onto my dress. “Dear, oh dear. All dressed up and you’re hiding in the dark. Even Christian’s having a good time. Is the food not up to your standards?”
She must have heard my earlier remarks.
