Instead of screaming, I took another breath and said, “This AC willeatpower. Are you willing to go back to using lanterns an hour or two earlier in the summer? Because we’ll be out of light that much sooner.”
“But we’ll be cooler. I done decided I’m gonna be a townie girl real soon. Townies don’t sweat all summer and freeze all winter.” She paused, as if reconsidering. “Well. I’m gonna be a townie girl with a greenhouse and plants and a business selling my veggies and suchlike.”
“Hmmm.” I walked to the wide grouping of potted flowers and herbs on the far end of the porch and tilted one over to retrieve the key I had left there. There was a note beside the key, which I opened and read. It was from Brother Thad. I said to Mud, “Brother Thad says he’s adjusting his bid for the upgrades we talked about.” I looked at my sister, who still seemed a little on the defensive side. I keyed open the door and led the way inside. It was still cool enough, the night air chilled by the small air conditioning unit. It wouldn’t last long. A new AC unit would be nice. “A townie, huh?”
Mud followed me in. “Pretty much.”
I walked through the house and opened the back door, letting the cats inside. “According to my note”—I waggled it at her—“Brother Thad will be sending me an e-mail this morning. The second-story walk-in closet is more than a closet. Atsome point before I came to live here, maybe before John’s second and third wives divorced him because he couldn’t give them children, that space was roughed in for bathroom plumbing. I never knew. Putting in a small bath for you may not be as expensive as we’d feared.”
Delight flashed across my sister’s face. “I’m gonna have my own bathroom?”
“Maybe. We’re going to get prices for a new bathroom and all the remodel, including installing your solar upgrades. But don’t think it’s a done deal. The money for the custody court costs is not something I’m willing to touch. If we can’t afford all the construction, we’ll have to pick and choose. It might come down to a bathroom upstairs or a greenhouse.”
Mud let out a whoop that echoed in the rafters and the bedrooms upstairs.
EIGHT
I needed a nap, but that wasn’t going to happen. Just as I crawled into bed, newly showered and wearing a cropped pair of John’s old boxers and a tank top, my cell buzzed with a text. It was a message from Ming of Glass, the new, first-ever, Master of the City of Knoxville. The MOC was demanding my presence at her clan home. Now. After sunrise. In the daylight. Vampires slept by day. Ordinary vampires. I didn’t know about a Master of a City.
The text had come from Yummy’s number and I knew for certain that Yummy wasn’t old enough to be awake. The text had also gone to Rick. I wondered if the MOC had gone into the sleeping lair of her bodyguard and used Yummy’s dead-by-day finger to open her phone and send the message. Had the MOC known how to do all that?
My cell rang and I answered, “LaFleur. I see it.”
“We aren’t usually subjected to a command performance,” he said. “Part of me wants to refuse on general principle—law enforcement doesn’t act at the behest of fangheads—but the realistic part of me knows we should go. You up for the drive or should I send someone to pick you up?”
“I’ll drive. What does she mean when she says, ‘Ming of Glass and Knoxville demands the attention and assistance of PsyLED. We have been physically and electronically attacked. Two blood-servants are missing.’”
“We’ll find out when we get there.”
“Copy that.” I hit end. “You’re a big help,” I accused the phone.
Mud stuck her head in the doorway. “I can go to Mama. The womenfolk is canning tomatoes and making basil vinegarand pesto today. I can grab some a our’ns and add to the mix in exchange for some jars.”
“Hurry and get some picked. And be careful of the roots. They need rain. We leave in twenty minutes.”
Mud raced to the garden, urging the cats out with her. I considered work clothes in the closet. Instead, I fingered a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and spotted a lightweight cropped jacket. “Demand my presence?” I stripped and dressed. “Get me off duty?” I sniped. “Just be glad I ain’t showing up to your augustpresence in bib overalls and work boots.”
I frowned at the world. I had started talking to inanimate objects and the air. Being a special agent was making me crazy as a bedbug.
•••
I dropped Mud off at Mama’s, the smell of garlic and basil and tomatoes making my mouth water, and took off for the clan home of Ming of Glass. In the middle of the morning.
I beat PsyLED SAC Rick LaFleur there, so I drove by the house, which was off Kingston Pike, on Cherokee Boulevard, in the fancy part of town. I pulled over, turned off the truck, and lowered the window, taking the spare time while I waited on my boss to Google the address and go through county records. Every Tennessee county kept building records on deeds, titles, land boundaries, and most everything else. I extended my search into the county building inspectors, looking into plumbing, electrical, security, and everything else I could find.
The house was within spitting distance of the Confederate Memorial Hall, and probably had a view of the Tennessee River. Seen from above, it had a huge footprint. According to county records it was nearly twelve thousand square feet and had an attached six-car garage, a full, newly upgraded security system, a sprinkler system, a slate roof, a swimming pool, a tennis court, and a three-hole putting green. There was what looked like a brand-new greenhouse on the far side of the house. The barn and five-board fencing had a new coat of paint since the last satellite pictures, and the jump rings set up on the pasture seemed to get a lot of usage. The grounds were attractively landscaped with local flora and had dozens of mature oak trees that provided shade to the horses I could smellon the hot summer air. I noted that the security upgrades had been done by Yellowrock Securities, Jane Yellowrock’s company. Rick’s ex had her tentacles in every vampire clan home in the Southeast. I checked for a text reply. Nothing yet.
The entrance to the address was protected with a reinforced iron pole gate. Nothing but a small tank or someone on foot was getting through. I’d spotted a camera and a small speaker at the entrance as I drove by, and other cameras followed the fencing, with what might have been motion detectors and low-light and infrared monitors.
Rick—LaFleur for this interview—cruised up beside me, lowered his window, puffed out cigar smoke in a little ring, and smiled. Cigar smoke had been used for decades as a way to mask scent patterns from vampires and he would reek of it. His silver and black hair was brushed back; he was wearing a white dress shirt and a tie. For a para who had spent the night in the null room, he looked pretty good. “You up for this, Ingram?”
“They’ll call me Maggot.”
“They might. But how long they do that is up to you.”
I tilted my head. Up to me? I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but he didn’t give me a chance to question him. “Leave your window down,” he said. “Show your ID to the camera and wait until they give you permission to enter. Follow me in. Leave your weapons locked in the truck.” He made a U-turn; I followed him up to the gate, waited my turn, and showed my ID.
The first quivers of nervousness raced through me on tiny little spider feet. I swallowed the nerves down. According to Spook School, vampires could smell nervousness and it activated their predatory instincts. I didn’t know if I could protect myself from a vampire. Didn’t know if I could drain them into the earth if they should attack. I didn’t know if the earth would spit them back out or entrap them as it had Brother Ephraim. Leaving my weapon in the truck felt stupid. Taking it with me felt more stupid. I wished I had bought a silver cross. Silver stakes. Something.
