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Reynard faced me and cleared his throat. “Who are Bella and Edward?”

“Friends of his?” I had no idea, but it was probably best not to ask.

“Adam. For the sake of clarity, what happened between us at Razorsedge didn’t happen until we mutually acknowledge it did. Correct?”

There was an us? I swallowed. “Yeah.” My heart skippety-skipped. Lord Victor Reynard liked me. Now, I just needed my bestie demon back and everything would be fine again. As fine as any day at the SOS Hotel could be. “Let’s free Zee.”

CHAPTER 8

The vampire scribe, Pierce, arrived around lunchtime the next day and met with Reynard privately in the conference room, since Pierce refused to discuss anything with the “duke killer” present. I wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the name the vampires had given me, and instead avoided them, preferring to check in with Madame Matase.

She sat at the reception desk, knitting needles set aside as she spoke on the phone and scanned the guest book, booking some potential guests a room for next week. She wore black lace, and had her tumble of dark hair pinned back, adding a touch of glamor to our tired foyer. Madame Matase had been one of my lucky finds, like Zodiac.

I got a glimpse of the book, noting lots of names. That was good. We might actually make a profit soon, if occupancy stayed up once the novelty of a Lost Ones hotel wore off.

She ended the call and smiled up at me. “Hello, darling. How are you?”

“Oh, I’m fine. Has there been any more unusual activity with the wards?”

“There was, Adam, yes. Two nights ago, in fact. How did you know?”

“I see.” When Zee and I had been getting up close and personal in my room. I suspected we’d found our culprit. Me. “Did the wards swell again?”

“They did, yes. Just a little. Do you know what’s causing it?”

“I think so, yes. It’s nothing to worry about.” Not for her, anyway. But I was going to need to examine my own cursework and the glamor trapped beneath it, and patch any leaks. I wasn’t a natural curse maker. Curses were sorcery. Which was probably why the desperate, last-ditch one I’d performed on myself was beginning to fail. Hiring a licensed sorcerer was out of the question. They had to report to the authorities any unregistered cursework, and mine was definitely unregistered.

“Mr. Adam Vex?” a soft, delicate male voice, sweetly slithered into my preoccupied thoughts, demanding I pay attention.

I turned to find a tall, androgenous fae peering down their fine nose at me. They wore a one-third length, dark duster coat over a dark gray suit. A badge flashed at their hip, which they made sure to show me with a flick of their lean fingers. Their pale green hair had been trimmed at jaw length, into a perfect bob.

Mercy, they were pretty.

“Good day to you Mr. Vex. My name is Agent Elion Leomaris with the Special Supernatural Division.” They pronounced every word slowly, stretching each syllable to beyond an inch of its life.

Wait. The SSD? The supernatural police.

“Oh dear.”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing.” I casually propped an elbow on the front desk. “All our business licenses are up to date, and our Lost Ones licenses too. We’re all above board. Absolutely legitimate. Nothing untoward happening here. It’s really quite boring, actually.” Definitely no dead demons in the flowerbeds, no human protestor’s corpse somewhere hidden, or an interdimensional, incorporeal shadowbeast in the attic. And definitely not anything so powerful living under the SOS Hotel roof, that it would see my home, my life, immediately shut down and quarantined.

I smiled, my one hundred percent human, innocent Adam Vex smile.

“I’m here at the request of one Detective Somers,” he said, his voice as soft as silk. “I believe you’ve met?”

“Detective Somers? Yes, we met. I’ll be honest though. His baseless accusations regarding my business partner are bordering on racism against demons.”

The tall, lean fae propped their hands on their hips, shifting their coattails back, and sighed. “Yes, that is not unusual, unfortunately. But some of his accusations are quite serious in nature, and do warrant a follow up from my department, hence my arrival. Perhaps we might discuss this in private?”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, well, there’s an ongoing meeting in the conference room, and the bar and restaurant are busy with lunchtime. Uhm, so there really isn’t anywhere.”

“Your room, perhaps?”