“We’ve had worse. No, don’t ask what the worse was!” Kimiko’s grin stiffens. Almost a perfect mask. But Simon knows her well. He sees her hesitation, before she asks one more question he wishes she wouldn’t. “How long did he stick around this time?”
Dima, of course.
The funny thing is Simon hasn’t missed Dima the way he usually does. Too much else to think about. “You know him. He’ll vanish as soon as the next distraction calls.”
“I don’t know him. All these years, and perhaps only you do.” Kimiko rises to her feet. “Stay and dance a while. Order your pet a few drinks—my treat.”
The clear dismissal is welcome. Ungratefully, Simon itches to leave his friend’s watchful gaze. “Thank you, Kimiko.”
He leaves the office with Cody close at his heels. Funny. A fucking werewolf is more reliable than Simon’s own sire.
Hopefully the guest book logs will turn up more answers. Or at least new questions.
When they’re upstairs, out of range of Kimiko or Andrea’s keen hearing, Simon murmurs, “Apologies for her poor manners.”
“It’s fine,” Cody murmurs back. “Your friend seems fun.”
Something about that response rankles Simon’s nerves. He suddenly wants to dance. Blow off steam. Shove aside his loneliness. But he shouldn’t push Cody’s good temper, or his own unreliable strength.
Besides, he can’t stay around with so many living heartbeats. The thirst will overwhelm him until he’s tempted to pick someone to feed from. What if they’re poisoned again? Simon’scareful rules can’t keep him safe. No first-timers. No repeats. No werewolves.
“We’ll head back now,” Simon says, and Cody nods, sticking close.
Leaving the club is a relief. Simon feels safer under the open sky, with only Cody near enough to touch. He can’t sense any other nonhumans nearby.
“What are you thinking?” Simon asks, because he wants to avoid his own thoughts, and Cody is definitely thinking about something. Even as his gaze roves the streets, his expression turns inwards.
For a moment, Cody seems like he might not answer. That would be fair. They aren’t exactly friends. Barely friendly at all. Then Cody’s roving gaze pauses briefly on Simon. “I didn’t know you were involved with the treaty.”
Lovely. A history lesson. “A minor role. I mediated with certain parties.”
“Not the werewolves,” Cody says, amused.
“I didn’t want fleas.” Simon watches carefully enough to catch Cody’s stifled grin. “I represented our kind to a few hunters’ guilds, and certain reluctant individuals among our own people. Why do you ask?”
“I still don’t know much about you,” Cody says. “I guess I’m curious.”
Simon isn’t used to talking about himself. It’s been years since he had a real conversation with someone who didn’t already know him.
“There are two main reasons the treaty council wanted me as a liaison,” Simon says. This was common knowledge, before it becamehistory.
“What are those?” Cody asks obligingly as they near the parking garage.
“I spoke with the guilds because I appear, as vampires go, fairly nonthreatening.”
Cody snorts. “I can believe that.”
“Excuse me.”
“No offense meant.” Cody grins. “You’ve got that whole… eternally youthful thing going on.”
Other adjectives lurk beneath those words. Simon chooses not to dig them up. “That was the idea. Can you imagine Kimiko negotiating? The woman is a menace. Not that she would agree to help—she definitely misses unauthorized predation.”
“I can believe that,” Cody says. “What’s the second reason?”
“Simple. The other vampires know Iamthreatening.” Snapping fingers, rushing flames. Simon wilts, remembering himself. “Or I was at the time. I’m not much to fear at the moment. But I assure you, when not poisoned, I’m quite intimidating.”
“Really,” Cody says, too amused.
