“I’m coming home. I’ll see you soon,” I reassured her before ending the call and driving back.
When I arrived, the house was dark, the curtains drawn over the windows to shield it from the daylight. The only dim light was from various table lamps and dripping candles. I heard Vail in the kitchen; she’d been trying to figure out a remedy for Retch for weeks and had no luck. Without knowing how it was made, and with neither of us willing to be the test subjects, she had no way to evaluate her remedies.
“How’s it going with that?” I asked Vail, who was stirring a pot on the stove. The smell of fish drifted through the air, and the mixture inside resembled a murky, grey sludge.
“It’s not going well,” she replied with a sigh. “Every time I add some of the Retch, it just turns into this sludge. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”
“When your book arrives at the bookstore, I’m sure it’ll help,” I reassured her.
My phone rang in my pocket. I answered it.
“Hello?”
Vail was staring at me when she stirred her pot. Listening to my conversation.
“Hey, I was wondering if you’re free tonight and want to come for drinks with my friends and me?” Connor asked. I tried to suppress the smile creeping onto my lips when I heard his voice. Vail was mouthingnoto me, shaking her head.
“I’d love to,” I said, sticking my tongue out at Vail. “Who’s going to be there?” I asked him, and suddenly Vail was interested.
“Diana, Donovan, Sam, and Ivy.”
I raised my eyebrows at Vail at the mention of Sam’s name.
“Okay, sounds good, I’ll meet you tonight. Text me the deets.” I hung up the phone.
“Do you want to come too?” I asked Vail.
“No, I think I’m going to stay in and keep working on this. I also don’t think that it’s a good idea for you to go,” she said.
“Why not?”
“Because you’re going to be surrounded by Slayers.”
“Vail, you’re the one who says we need information. So, I’m getting information.”
“But Sam’s going to be there.” I could hear her reluctance in her voice.
“I’ll be fine. But don’t get any ideas about going to the warehouse tonight,” I warned her. “Not without me.”
“You have very little faith in me,” she said.
THIRTY
October 15, 1891
I was reading in the library when I heard yelling in the foyer. I looked up from my book into the hallway when I saw Imalda running by. Curious, I set the book down and peeked out of the doorway toward the entrance.
Draven had mentioned earlier that morning that he needed to attend to some work; he was likely in his room. Despite my curiosity about his quarters, he had yet to show them to me, insisting that he wanted to tidy up first. According to him, his room was cluttered with books and papers from years of research, and he wanted to ensure everything was in order before I saw it. He did not want me touching things and misplacing them.
I walked down the hallway, keeping my feet soft on the floor, careful not to make any noises. Everything in me told me to stay in the library as the nonsensical yelling continued from the foyer. As I turned the corner, I saw Imalda trying to close the front door on an older man. He had a large mustache, and his clothing appeared as if he had dressed in the dark—half the buttons were mismatched, and some were left undone.
“Sir, please leave,” Imalda said to the man as she continued to push at the door.
“Let me through, woman!” he shouted, shoving the door open with such force that Imalda fell backward onto the floor. I hurried to her side, helping her up.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
The man was yelling and stumbling around the foyer, his feet catching on the carpet. He was clearly drunk.
