Page 19

“When it’s what now?”

His hand landed on my lower back and guided me through the doorway, into the hall. “You’re so cute I could eat you.”

I checked his face, and found his typical smile beaming back at me.

“But won’t,” he added.

We stepped into the rickety elevator, and among the clanging cables I was reminded I hadn’t yet asked Claymore about the lift music.

“So, whose blood was on your clothes?” Zee asked. It must have been killing him not to.

“Who put you in chains?”

He pursed his lips, stared at the door, and we rode to the ground floor in silence, our secrets intact.

We entered the lobby together, at the same moment as a uniformed delivery man wheeled his empty trolley out the door. The crate he’d left behind stood as tall and wide as me in the middle of the floor.

“What’s this?” I asked Madame Matase.

Her knitting needles click-clacked in her hands. She tilted her head at the crate. “Don’t know, darling. Just arrived, addressed to you.”

I checked the delivery note stuck to the lid. Adam Vex, SOS Hotel. No mention of Zee. “What do you think?” I asked him.

Zee circled it. His tail snaked up one of its edges. “A bomb would be smaller.”

“A bomb?!” I stepped back and eyed the box with alarm. “You think it’s explosive?”

He pulled an I-don’t-know face. “I just said it probably wasn’t.”

“Then why mention a bomb?”

“You asked.” He shrugged.

“So it’s not a bomb?”

“It could be. What the fuck do I know about bombs?”

“Zee.” I dragged both hands down my face. It was too early for this, or I was too tired. “What do you think it is?”

He spread his hands. “Maybe open it and find out? Does it say where it’s from?”

I checked the delivery note again and my heart sank. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Zee took the note. “Oh for fuck’s sake. Reynard Technologies? Send it back.”

Why would Reynard send us a human-sized crate? “We could do that. Or we could take a look?”

He planted a hand on his hip. “It probably is a bomb. We should definitely send it back.”

“Oh, stop. Why would he send a bomb to a place he’s staying at?” Although, last night in the bar had been a bit tense. “Madame Matase, is Lord Reynard still in the guest book?”

She opened the book and flicked through. “Lord Reynard has booked his room until the end of the month. Paid in advance.”

Zee flung his hands up. “Fuck my life.”

What if the crate was a weird vampire thing? Like a gift? What if it was a corpse gift? I screwed up my nose. “You had better open it.”

He huffed, flicked his wings out, thrust his nails under the seams, and yanked off the side. Inside, a colorful, old-style jukebox gleamed like candy. Even Zee seemed momentarily impressed, before snarling.