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I left the bar, and with nowhere to go that wasn’t infested with gremlins or guests, I fled to the basement—Claymore’s old sanctuary.

But it soon became clear I’d failed here too. Claymore was gone. Victor’s software had said he was probably dead. I knew I wasn’t responsible for every person under the SOS Hotel roof, but I should have done something. I should have tried.

I ambled about the gloomy room, and skimmed over some of Claymore’s old things. A giant pair of shoes, a kid’s drawing of a ladybug . . . and a black business card, folded in half and dropped beside an empty trashcan, as though it had been tossed there but it had missed.

The card read: Brink Private Security.

The soft flutter of wings signaled Jimmy’s arrival. He landed on the dusty floor and plonked himself down on his haunches.

“Hey there, Grrdug.” Guilt writhed inside me and I tucked the creased card into my back pocket. “So, we think we know where your family are, and we’re going to get them back.” I could do that. Probably. I could save them, like I’d saved the others. Like I’d saved the hotel from Gideon Cain, saved Zee and Victor and Shadow. But save the world?

That’s a lot.

“I think I messed up back there,” I told Jimmy.

He nodded his weirdly screwed-up, cute but ugly little face, then used his leg to scratch behind his ear.

“My parents were the first ones to turn on me.” I sat on the step. “I hatched on the night the stars fell, which is bad apparently. So I was doomed from day one, I guess. That’s how they knew what I was. Nobody said anything though, until I got older. Then the stars fell again. It happens quite a lot, you know—meteor showers, I guess—but in my life, it’s an omen. Falling stars triggered my folks. They heard about this prophecy—a heart will save us. I don’t even know how they got from falling stars to the heart in my chest, but I guess they weren’t thinking much beyond selling bits of me off for gold. Dragons really like gold.”

Jimmy blinked big eyes.

“I ate them.” I sighed. “In fairness, they tasted a lot nicer than they were. Kinda crunchy. Dragon tastes like chicken. We’re like really big, featherless chickens with anger issues. If you’ve met chickens, you’ll know what I mean.”

Jimmy lifted his leg in the air and licked his balls.

“I started running, after that, and didn’t stop until I bought this hotel.”

This crazy hotel. My sanctuary.

“People either hate the Prophesied One for not saving them, or they want to cut out my heart to sell. Or they think my heart’s so powerful it’ll make them a god. That’s kind of where I am right now. Victor and Zee are different, but I’m scared I’ll lose them, so I guess it seems safer to push them away on my terms than have it happen later anyway.”

Jimmy raised his arm and his long tongue swept up his armpit.

“But anyway, I can’t control any of that, so I’m going to get your family back. We made a deal. And vampires are so mean.” Huh. My heart felt lighter, and the basement didn’t seem so gloomy now I’d gotten all that off my chest. “You’re a good listener, Jimmy—I mean, Grrdug.”

Grrdug opened his mouth and the deepest voice I’d ever heard thundered out of him. “Jimmy’s good.”

“Wait.” He talked? “What?” No, I must have imagined it. “Did you just . . . ?”

He blinked, and fluttered his wings. His little head tilted to one side, then the other.

“Did you speak?” I narrowed my eyes and waited for him to say something else. Nothing came. But if he talked, then he’d understood every single thing we’d ever said to him. He’d played dim. Oh my stars, had we all been scammed by a pixie? “Just so we’re uh . . . on the same page. Everything I just said—all that prophecy stuff—stays between us, right?”

Another innocent blink, then his wings fluttered, and off he flew, straight into a ventilation duct.

Okay. Jimmy was . . . hopefully, not a problem.

CHAPTER 15

Without access to Reynard’s cars and drivers, we resorted to borrowing Ramone’s purple minivan, which the demons at Razorsedge had affectionately named the Love Wagon. It wasn’t subtle, but we were leaving it far from the chapel, so hopefully its garish, flaked paint and huge patches of rust wouldn’t matter.

“What is that odor?” Victor asked from the front passenger seat, after we’d crossed the Golden Gate Bridge and headed toward the mountains.

“You do not wanna know.” Zee said from behind the wheel.

I sat in the back, watching the city, then the trees roll by. We hadn’t spoken about what had happened earlier that morning in the bar, and had spent much of the day dealing with hotel issues, chasing gremlins out of sight, and trying to pretend everything was normal and fine.

The hotel had two guests left.