Graves arched an eyebrow. “Indeed.”
“We’ve come with payment,” Beckham interjected. “Are you willing to answer our questions or not?”
“Ah, straight down to business. Vampires always seem to despise the pleasantries,” Graves said as if Beckham’s behavior hardly registered on his radar.
“Pleasantries drag out negotiations.”
“Are we negotiating?” Graves toyed. That hint of a smile playing at his features again.
“We should start,” Beckham said impatiently.
“We didn’t come to bother you,” Reyna said. She took a step forward between the two men—monsters. “We were told that you had information that we needed about William Harrington. If you can help us, we would appreciate it. So, can you help us?”
“I can,” he said.
Graves towered over her. He was eye level with Beckham if not slightly taller. He stepped around her body, his moody gray eyes considering her from every angle as he made a leisurely circle.
She stiffened at his nearness. Why was he looking at her like that? Was he purposely trying to provoke Beckham? Because she was certain at any moment he would come barreling into Graves’s side. She didn’t dare glance at Beckham, but she could feel his anger unfurling from him like wings.
“And what will you give me for my help?” Graves’s voice slithered over her skin, crawling over her until she had to grit her teeth. Graves met her gaze and nodded once. “You have brought me something rather interesting?”
Beckham was steeling himself and his voice had regained its composure when he spoke. “We’ve brought payment.”
“Wonderful.” Graves strode away from them and, seemingly at random, lifted a book into his gloved hand. She wondered why he wore them inside. Everything else about him made him seemlike a worldly gentleman, but the gloves didn’t fit. He flipped to a page near the center and scribbled something in the margins. “Please sign here and here.”
He offered the book to Beckham, who asked, “What’s this?”
“Confirmation of payment. A receipt, if you will.”
“No contract?”
“You will give to me that which I desire of your own free will,” Graves said. “I haven’t had to force anyone yet.”
The way he glanced up at Reyna with that smirk on his lips said that perhaps he was not being entirely truthful. He wasn’t forcing anyone, but there was more than pen and paper that was happening here. She didn’t know what exactly she was expecting, what it was she was looking at.
“And what will this sign away?”
“You will speak of this to no one,” Graves said.
“Fine,” Beckham growled, as he vacillated before putting pen to paper. He clearly didn’t want to put his signature in Graves’s book. To leave behind a record of their presence here. But it didn’t seem like Graves would let them off the hook otherwise. So Beckham signed.
“Thank you,” Graves said, turning to Reyna. “And you, my dear.”
Reyna took the pen in a shaky hand. Beckham’s signature was one of a dozen on the ledger. Not a single name was recognizable. It wasn’t as if Harrington had been here and Graves would let them know. She sighed softly and then scribbled her name on the line.
The signature felt heavy. As if she had not just signed with ink but with blood. Like the weight of that signature was more than just her good word.
“Is it the signature that’s important?”
Graves tilted his head at her. “No,” he said slowly. “Did you feel something?”
She shook her hand out. “Maybe.”
It had felt like…magic.
But magic didn’t exist.
“Interesting,” he said as he flexed his gloves. He looked as if he had more questions and was keen on asking them of Reyna, but then he decided against it. He snapped the book shut with a flourish and tucked it under his arm. “Now payment. You were informed of what I require.”
