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I’d forgotten the Bloody Bitch. “I uh . . . yes?” I raised it to my lips, and Reynard’s gaze tracked the glass all the way, then fixed on my mouth as I opened it and tasted the thick drink. Part of me already believed it was blood—the right color, the right consistency, but it tasted sweet, not metallic. Not that I knew how blood tasted, having never, ever consumed blood of any kind. Ever. Why would I do that? I wouldn’t.

“It’s good.”

Tom Collins caught Reynard’s eye, and fixed him a second Bloody Bitch.

“It’s perhaps a little early to suggest this, but it appears you could use my assistance in certain . . . matters?”

Did he mean dead bodies? Because I wasn’t sure I needed a vampire’s help with that, especially after everything Zee had told me about their preferences. “I think we have it covered.”

“At some point, there will be other humans asking after their missing clan member, and in my experience, it doesn’t take long for a crowd to ignite a few flaming torches and resort to mob justice.”

He had a point. That protestor was going to be missed. But Zee was dealing with the corpse. We just had to deny everything and hope it didn’t happen again. There was no reason to think there would be any more trouble—one murder was surely enough. And there was still the matter of his coincidental arrival. Zee wouldn’t react well if I accepted Reynard’s help. “Like I said, we’re good. You’re a guest. You mustn’t worry yourself with our little . . . mishaps. We can handle them.” I hoped. I had a good team. We’d be alright. Which reminded me, I needed to speak with Madame Matase about the wards, to confirm they were all working as they were supposed to.

“I hope so. I wouldn’t want this grand idea of yours to fail at the first hurdle, a little like your AI here, that never did amount to much.”

Tom Collins gave Reynard the classic resting bitch face, but did at least keep his rude mouth closed.

“Everything is fine,” I said, unsure if I was reassuring Reynard or myself. “It’s almost eleven a.m. and the worst has already happened. What else can go wrong?”

“Indeed,” he agreed, with an arched eyebrow and hint of fang showing between his lips.

“If you still want to stay, your room will be ready in a few hours. Or I can move you to another⁠—”

“Of course I will stay.” His gaze slid sideways to me. “The entertainment is thrilling.”

Was I the entertainment? Was that a good or bad thing? I really needed to study more about vampires.

I gave a soft little laugh, and left the bar. As I’d said, the worst was probably over, which meant we had the whole day to make sure the hotel was working like a well-oiled machine.

I pushed open the bar door.

“Oh, Mr. Vex, there you are,” Noreen Greene said with a tight, polite smile. “Do you have any comment on the missing protestor?”

Oh no.

CHAPTER 3

“Missing protestor?” I squeaked.

“Oh yes, didn’t you hear?” She poked at her stiff hairdo. “Perhaps you haven’t yet. I’m sure it’s nothing. Either way, I’m here, and you offered a lengthier interview. There’s no time like the present. How does now sound?”

“Oh, uh, yes, that would be lovely, but I’m quite busy . . .”

The foyer was empty, apart from the click-clack of Madame Matase’s knitting needles. We had one guest. I was very obviously not busy.

“Let’s sit in the bar, shall we?” She pushed by me and entered the bar, making a beeline for Tom Collins, who would no doubt swear at her. I dashed ahead, and veered toward one of the tables, pulling out a chair. “Why don’t you take a seat? Would you like a drink?” I glanced at the bar, where Tom was drying glasses that hadn’t been used, and Reynard was nowhere in sight. Just his half-finished glass of Bloody Bitch remained. How had he gotten by me? Or had he left the bar another way?

“Oh yes, thank you, I’ll have a water. It’s a little early for alcohol.”

“Is it? Right. Yes. Of course.” I hurried to the bar. “Tom, just a water. Where did Reynard go?” He glared, about to launch into the whole, “I’m not his PA,” rant again. I held up my hand. “Never mind, just the water.”

“One vodka coming up.”

“No. Water, please.”

“Vodka.”

“Water.”