…is a crook and a liar,I pictured Mina filling in when Grepper trailed off.
Several cars pulled up outside, and Roux growled.
Fucking vampires…
I rocked a little, telling myself I would not succumb to another all-out meltdown as I had over Claudette. There wasn’t time for that.
“Are you saying Gordon killed my father?” I gritted out.
Grepper shrugged. “At the very least, he profited from the circumstances. You must ask Gordon if you wish to learn more.”
I shook my head, totally drained. Did Iwantto learn more? And who was I to believe?
“Why are you telling me this?” I demanded.
Grepper stared into the fire for a long time. “Perhaps because you remind me of your father. He was a good man. Too good, perhaps.” He shot me a significant look.
A veiled warning that I should stop while I was ahead. Well, duh. I knew that full well, but that didn’t stop me.
“So, you have the Monet now. Will you do as you originally intended and make it available to the public?”
My hopes rose on tiny, frail wings. Wouldn’t it be nice if a little bit of good came of all this?
Roux’s tail tapped me, and I thought of a second good thing. Him and me.
If we make it out of this alive,the back of my mind warned.
“Mr. Grepper. Will you exhibit it?” I demanded.
He flashed a wry smile. “Unfortunately, time has a way of eroding one’s principles.”
“But you have to! What good is it for one person to admire a masterpiece they keep locked away?”
“One might ask, what good is it to share?”
I was hardly in a position to shame a powerful warlock in his own home, but I didn’t care any more.
“Shame on you, Mr. Grepper. Shame on you.”
Car doors slammed, and voices sounded outside.
Grepper stared into the fire, unfazed by my words or the vampires. I sank my fingers into Roux’s thick fur, wishing wecould teleport ourselves to another time and place. A place like Monet’s garden, where Roux could rest his head on my lap and snooze while I listened to the birds, the bees, and the trickling stream.
Footsteps sounded outside, along with muttered curses. Only then did Grepper move. He stood, annoyed, then paused to look at me.
“In my line of work, I don’t often encounter people of principle. Your father was one. You are another.” He leaned in, magic shimmering around his shoulders. “But principles can be dangerous, my dear. They can even kill you.”
I gulped but refused to look away.
Remember what you told me about picking your battles?Roux warned.
“I have no designs on the Monet. I have no interest in selling you Gordon’s secrets,” I insisted. “All I want is my father’s painting. Please. It’s nothing to you, but very important to me.”
Yes, I was pleading. But I didn’t have it in me to uphold my principles and my pride at the same time.
He studied me long enough to make my hopes rise, only to dash them again.
“I am a businessman, not a philanthropist.”
