Of course, then he’d be stuck with two people who would be massively freaked-out on a runway outside Chicago that was operated by vampires. He could try calling his family, but what if they were out on a job? Halloween was only a week away, and they tended to stick closer to home to prevent any nearbythreats, but they could be anywhere in North America.If I crawl home, Cal will never let me hear the end of it.
A worse possibility came to mind. And what if his family wouldn’t answer? What if they wouldn’t come?
And what would he solve? These two victims weren’t the only ones.
He had to get to the heart of this and destroy the monster that was rotting a coven and ruining helpless people. But remaining perfectly complacent would burn his soul if he didn’t think of a way to release the pressure.Lucky me, the others are providing an easy answer.
Breaking the staring contest without dipping his head in deference, Zack tilted away from Roger’s touch and said, “Master Takashi, I’ve never had a cocktail before. What would you suggest?”
“An old-fashioned,” Takashi said.
“Thank you, master. I’ll try that.” Zack sat down stiffly.
Roger stared down at him, but Zack refused to meet his gaze a second time. There was wrong and there waswrong, and he had to know that.
After an eternal moment, Roger went back to his seat. The coldness never left his eyes, even as he smiled at the attendant and ordered a sidecar. Kit asked for a lemon drop.
“I take it that alcohol has never been a source of interest for you, Zackery,” Takashi said.
Zack frowned at him. “It hasn’t, master. How did you know?”
“You seem knowledgeable on a great manner of subjects,” Takashi said evenly. “However, no one can be expected to know everything, can they?”
There was a weight in those words. Zack tried to judge it, but the righteous fury burning in his belly wasn’t quenched by the drink in his hand.
“Screw cocktails, then. We need to get shots going,” Carver said. He nodded to Roger. “If you’ll allow, master.”
“Of course,” Roger said, the distance still in his voice. “Do as you please.”
And for the first time in forever, Zack drank.
A limo met them at the airport in the Chicago suburbs, and Kit discovered it had a private stash of booze. It wasn’t nearly as good as the drinks on the plane had been, and there wasn’t anything to mix with the hard stuff.
By the time Zack climbed out of the vehicle, the world had a definite sway to it. Despite the late hour, the hotel staff was moving with a ruthless precision to unload the luggage from the trunk and back of the limo.
The building in front of them was the local version of the high-end ultrarich locations that catered to supernaturals, especially vampires. L’Hotel de Monde de Nuit had bas reliefs in the stonework on the lower floors. The windows above the sixth floor were arched, and balconies dotted many of the highest floors.
Until recently, it was the tallest of the vampire hotels at forty-five stories, beating out New York’s, Tokyo’s, and Dubai’s. The new Hotel Vampire in Atlanta had stolen the title with sixty-five floors. Filling such a hotel with only supernaturals could be a challenge, and Zack had seen a plethora of posts on Night Deets arguing that it shouldn’t count since it allowed regular, completely-unaware-of-the-supernatural humans to stay within its walls.
“Ooo, we need a pic,” Kit said, their speech slurred. They grabbed Zack’s arm and tugged him toward the large fountain.
At the center of the fountain was a statue of a winged man stretching toward the heavens. Beneath him, several smaller stone figures clawed and grasped his lower ankle. One even hung from his otherwise free left ankle. Water splashed up fromthe jets, seeming to help the hands grasping for the winged man. The finer details were harder to make out, either because someone thought red lighting was decent enough in the dark or the alcohol in Zack’s system was blurring his vision.
Kit pulled Zack around to the far side, and Carver sauntered along behind them. The three of them took selfies, alternating who was using what phone. Zack was pretty sure his was trash and opted not to post it, but Kit and Carver were happy and posted theirs.
Roger snapped, and the glow of the moment dropped away to the misery that wouldn’t be dulled. The crest tag lightly tapped against Zack’s neck as he hurried over to him. The others followed behind him.
“All right there?” Roger murmured.
“Fine, master,” Zack said. Because he couldn’t scream. His dagger was in his backpack and on a cart that the bellhops were taking in, but he wasn’t allowed to hold on to it. Denied the comfort of being armed among enemies, he sank into the remaining alcoholic buzz as they stepped inside.
The lobby’s marble floors were shined to perfection. Massive chairs and deep couches made up a small lounging area near the front desk, while another seating area filled a space near what Zack thought was a gift shop. Then his research kicked in and reminded him that the store wasn’t filled with knickknacks or souvenir T-shirts or even boutique clothing. It had “pet necessities.” A little food, some water and snacks like any hotel might have. A few bits that could charitably be considered clothing.
And a whole lot of collars, leashes, harnesses, floggers, and other devices.
Instead of looking out, Zack focused upward. The ceiling was thirty feet up, and a huge chandelier hung in the middle of the lobby. Long crystals formed a sweeping spiral, and each one hada unique glow, no two showing the exact same shade of soft white light.
While Roger engaged a hotel staffer about some detail, Zack walked underneath the chandelier. There weren’t any bulbs to illuminate it, and he couldn’t spot any sign of arcane magic. Whoever had constructed it had either hidden their runes or it wasn’t done with enchantments.
