I grab my jacket, straighten my tie, and head to the elevator.
Elliot and I need to discuss what happened last night, I know, but first I need to talk to Vittoria about it. Even though I’m sure it’s either the Rogues or Santiago who want to move into de Santis’s spot, both parties with their own agendas.
There’s a chance, of course, that it’s the humans and their messy greed.
As of now I don’t care who. I just want to know, in case I need to deal with it in swift, deadly strokes. Especially if it’s Santiago and he wants to bring his brand of chaos to my city.
That I won’t allow.
“Where are you going?” Elliot asks from behind me.
I turn, taking in the black pants and top she’s changed into. Things that came from Vittoria. Things Vittoria would never wear.
But Monty…fuck, does she look good. I never thought much of human trends, like yoga pants, but?—
I stop myself before I get erect and take her hard against the wall.
“Work,” I say. “I do still do that.”
“You don’t need to.”
She has no idea. “There’s a lot to do in running this place, along with my other ventures.”
“Like finding my friend?”
I bite back the sigh. “Like finding your friend.”
“And what am I supposed to do?”
“Try to escape,” I say. “And fail. Snoop? Whatever you want. This is where you’ll be living for the foreseeable future.”
“That,” she says, “is a long time.”
I don’t answer, just slide my phone into my pocket.
“And if I don’t want to be here?”
I call the elevator, punching in the code. “That’s too bad. You’re still too young to be autonomous.”
“You’re trying to protect me?” she asks.
The elevator dings, and I step inside. “No. The world.”
The doors shut, and I head down to my office. Give her enough time and she’ll escape. It’d be stupid to think she wouldn’t.
In my office, it feels untouched, like I haven’t been here in centuries. I was in here yesterday. It’s just that with each passing minute I can feel the gap between lifetimes widen. Life with Elliot the human. And now Elliot the vampire.
With a shake of my head, I dislodge the ridiculous thought, and I go to my computer. Once there, I log into the private records, the ones with employees, the farmed, and the blood givers who trade their ruby blood for euphoric sex. Slaves, I guess, but willing ones.
As I go through it all, I don’t find this Kayla Evans.
It could be as easy as she lied to her friend and she never worked here at all, but Elliot is sure she did. If she was an employee, the files should be here, even if she was fired, relocated, mind-wiped, or…erased.
It could be that the files got wiped from the computer to exist only in paper form, down in the bowels of VMR. Except that’s not how things are run. We’re efficient. I doubt it was just a glitch or clerical error.
Everyone who works here is recorded until they leave.
This time, I click around until I reach the application take-ins. I find hers immediately. Rather, one of many.
