“That is a different look. Different smell, too,” Ezra said.
“What do I look like?” Roger asked.
“You appear to be a six-foot blond with decent enough taste in suits but nothing remarkable. In fact, my gaze slides past you.”
“Thank the Heavens for talented warlocks.”
Ezra grabbed the stone and twisted the handle. The door opened inward to a dark, narrow hallway. The occasional tiny LED light provided ample illumination for a vampire, and navigating the passage was a breeze. It reminded Roger of the back ways into speakeasies and secretive donor houses, only the Chateau’s was far neater. There was no hint of fear soaked into the walls, no concern that one might get caught in illicit activities. Instead, a brush of warmth greeted him. Desire.
Oh, how he hoped the evening would end in love rather than terror.
“Did you decide upon a fake name?” Ezra said.
“You’re the writer. Choose one for me,” Roger replied.
Ezra groaned softly. “Pure torture, making me come up with a name. You’re Harry, a friend of mine from England. You do still remember how to speak with an English accent, don’t you?”
“That aristocratic London version or my actual dialect?” Roger replied.
“I hate to say it, but aristocratic. If you sound poor, that’ll attract attention.” Ezra scrunched his nose. “I hate that I just said that. How long until the revolution?”
“Not long,” Roger promised.
“See that it isn’t.”
“You could participate rather than telling me to hurry up.”
Ezra paused. He had the benefit of being shorter and slimmer, and he turned around to face Roger. Sneaking around and having him near reminded Roger of how they’d been in their early nights together, when Ezra was still a mortal. No flicker of romantic love sparked, nor did a long habit of falling back onsexual interests renew. Roger didn’t want to avoid the troubles ahead—and the realization of that was an unburdening, like finally breaking free of water to breathe fresh air when drowning had been so near.
“You’re serious,” Ezra murmured. He pushed Roger’s shoulder lightly. “Why the bloody hell did you wait so long to ask me?”
“Well, I believe you were a bit preoccupied not answering your phone.” Roger flicked the crest tag on Ezra’s collar.
With a frown, Ezra put his hand to his collar. Shame darkened his steel-gray eyes, and he lowered his gaze before straightening his shoulders and meeting Roger’s gaze. “I only wanted some joy. I never expected it.”
“I’m not angry,” Roger replied. “But after tonight, sides will be drawn. Candide will choose herself.”
“We’re standing in the middle of a secret passage on our way to rendezvous with your lovers underneath the nose of an ancient monster who uses any excuse to punish those around him. One might say she’s already chosen a side. Yours.”
“I had to show up on her door and guilt her into this, Ezra.” Roger put his finger under Ezra’s chin when Ezra started to look down again. “We know her. She will defend what’s hers, but she will never fight for change.”
“I hate when you’re right.” Ezra brushed a forming tear from his eye. “Forgive me for hiding?”
Roger managed a smile. “I’ve been hiding in plain sight for a few centuries. I suppose I can forgive you for sticking your head in the sand a few months.”
Ezra laughed, wiped quickly at his other eye, then began to lead the way again.
They trekked up three flights of stairs, bypassing a few other turns and exits. The first room that they stepped into was empty. It appeared to be a small library or an office with manybookcases. Upon closer inspection, Roger noticed that much of the furniture was discreet kink pieces. The Chateau catered to fantasies, and not every vampire had the urge to invade a bedroom or lock their prey up in a dungeon.
After they had both stepped through, Ezra swung the fake bookcase shut. “The door opens on this side by pulling the copy ofThe Three Musketeers. Every interior room on this floor has one of these secret doors. Try not to get lost in the labyrinth back there. Once the party is in full swing, those passageways will have mortals flitting back and forth.”
“Allowing her patrons all the privacy they need and hiding any bodies from sensitive mortals,” Roger said. “Just as she did in London.”
“Ah, right. I was barely ever in that place. Smelled awful after I became a vampire.”
“That was the Thames,” Roger replied, putting on his English nobleman’s voice as they left the faux library.
“Eh, that’s likely.” Ezra continued on to the stairs that led downward. His demeanor brightened to avid host. “The party shall be on the second floor, with permissions granted for third-floor usage, of course. Anton has insisted that no expense be spared for this grand party, and the last time I checked, the guest list had two hundred vampires on it. Do you remember Faustino? Oh, and Abhijit?”
