“They had been living here for two months.” He adjusted the strap on his bag. “I never met them. I’m sure there are others, but good luck to us finding them until they make a move. There are too many residents, too many variables.”
“The Faraday ought to introduce tougher screening protocols for vampire applicants.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. “Scratch that. Discrimination is not the answer.” There were thousands of law-abiding vampires across the country who had done nothing to deserve yet another restriction on their undead lives. The whole community shouldn’t be punished for the actions of a few, and certainly not on my behalf. “I’m just thinking out loud.”
“We’ll figure it out,” he promised.
“We as in you and me or we as in you and…?” I was genuinely curious. “Don’t potentates work alone?”
“We do, in the field.” A slight hesitation tipped me off as to how rare it was for him to talk about this aspect of his life with others. “I have a team that helps me. I couldn’t do it all alone. They’re all safe behind their desks.”
Interesting. “Will I meet them at Strophalos?”
“They’re kept anonymous for their own protection.” Regret darkened his eyes. “It’s dangerous working for a potentate. It’s twice as dangerous working for the Grande Dame’s son.”
I saw where this was headed. “Three times as dangerous when he’s friends with me, huh?”
“Yes,” he agreed, lightening the sting with a faint smile.
The lobby was empty when we hit bottom, and I grabbed him by the wrist to haul him outside before Hubert could insert his nose in the crease between Linus’s butt cheeks. Rather proud of our escape, I grinned brightly until Hood planted himself in my path.
Cletus drifted down, his tattered cloak tickling my elbow.
“Evening, Ms. Woolworth.” Hood skimmed me from head to foot, eyes golden. “You’re looking much better than the last time I saw you.” His nostrils flared. “You were covered in blood, and not all of it yours.”
“All thanks to Nurse Linus.” Noticing I still held his wrist, I released him. “He patched me up as good as new.”
“Glad to hear it.” He inclined his head toward Linus, almost in gratitude. “Enjoy your evening, folks.”
“You too,” I replied awkwardly, like standing guard was the thrill of a lifetime.
Within seconds, our ride pulled up to the curb. Ignoring us, Tony kept chugging his energy drink.
Behind us, Hood chuckled darkly. I turned and saw him lifting his phone to capture Scion Lawson, the Potentate of Atlanta, climbing into a grungy van driven by a human dressed in days-old pajamas. I narrowed my eyes at him in warning, which tickled him all the more.
“Do you remember what I told you about the watchmen?” Linus asked once the van merged with traffic.
How could I forget? “That they eat people who annoy them.”
“And?” His lecturing voice was in the on position. “Anything else come to mind?”
“Hood’s the one who keeps initiating conversations. It’s not my fault he’s gabby around me. Which is worse? Responding to him or ignoring him? I don’t want him to eat me for being rude.”
“Honestly, I’m not sure.” The city beyond the window caught his eye, and he noted each lamppost and street sign like it would be a long time before he saw them again. “The gwyllgi don’t chat up residents. They barely condescend to acknowledge me. I’m not sure why Hood is fascinated with you.”
“Maybe he’s just curious.” Though not as intrigued as I was about his true nature. Gwyllgi sounded Welsh—fae—but that was impossible. “You’ve never brought anyone home, right? He might wonder what earned me the invite.”
“Perhaps,” he conceded, though he didn’t sound convinced.
The drive to Gershwin Memorial was loud and…fragrant. Our driver grew more pungent by the day, his natural cologne a mingling of armpit funk, unwashed feet, and pepperoni. Try as I might, I couldn’t think of a polite way to point out there were free bars of soap and mini shampoo bottles in his hotel room, and that he maybe ought to think about using them.
Linus didn’t complain, though he did breathe through his mouth. I patted his thigh in solidarity.
After missing the turn three times, Tony dropped us off under the portico. From there, Linus led the way straight up to the third floor to a room marked Private. He knocked once, and Cruz emerged, looking like someone had taken a sock full of quarters to him. His brows crashed down when he spotted me, and the bruises under his reddened eyes made my gut twist.
Careful not to make a sound, he eased the door shut behind him to bar the entrance. “What are you doing here?”
This was not going to end well. “I came to see Neely.”
Cruz measured me and found me wanting, more so than usual. “You almost got him killed last night.”
Hating he was right, I still fumbled for an excuse. “Another car—”
“I saw the footage from the traffic cameras.” Much like Linus, Cruz must have contacts all over the city. “The driver of the other car pulled out of the parking deck at your building within thirteen minutes of you leaving. She was gunning for Neely from the moment he picked you up at the MARTA stop. That tells me what happened wasn’t an accident. She intended to do harm.” A quiver in his jaw warned me not to push him. “Who could her intended target have been?” He pretended to consider it might be Neely for, oh, all of about zero seconds. “My husband, who has never so much as jaywalked in his life, or you?”
Cold sweat beaded down the small of my back. “What are you saying?”
Neely had no idea who or what I was beyond his struggling-to-get-by friend Grier, but Cruz…
According to Linus, Cruz worked for the Society, managing their human interests, whatever that meant. Over the course of three years, he was smart enough to have figured out there was something hinky about the work he was doing and his wealthy clients. Intelligent enough not to question a good thing as long as the work he did was legal and the deposits arrived like clockwork. But he must have wondered, maybe even fit pieces of the big picture together.
How much did he know? Or think he knew? And how much protection would his job title afford him?
“The accident wasn’t Grier’s fault.” Linus waded in, playing peacekeeper. “She’s a victim here too.”
Victim. The word made me flinch. I hated it more than all others combined.
Cruz noticed me recoiling. From the darkening of his scowl, I bet he had mistaken the reaction for guilt.
“The auto claims adjuster sent me pictures of the car. I saw the blood in the passenger’s seat. Your seat.” His knuckles popped at his sides under the strain of his fists. “Yet you weren’t admitted. You walked away while Neely—” His voice broke, jagged edges that cut me. “He’s…”
The urge to reach out and soothe him almost overcame my common sense. “He will recover.”
“Neely told me about your boyfriend. The one who knocked you around. That stunt with the detective in Savannah—Russo—was that about this?” When I didn’t answer, his eyes brightened, a predator scenting blood. “Whatever hot mess you got yourself tangled up in almost cost Neely his life. Stay away from him.”
Throat tight, I forced myself to swallow. “You’re telling me what Volkov did to me was my fault?”
“Fuck.” Cruz rubbed his face while he breathed in deep. “I didn’t mean that. I’m not victim blaming.”
Linus cupped my elbow and pitched his voice low. “We’re drawing too much attention.”
Nurses and visitors alike stood frozen in the hall, watching the fireworks, while a matched set of security guards approached us slowly, careful not to alarm the patients.
“Tell Neely I stopped by,” I rasped as Linus guided me away. “That I hope he’s feeling better.”
He didn’t agree to pass on the well-wishes, but he didn’t tell me to jump off a cliff either. So, progress?
Linus escorted me past the security guards, who gave me the stink eye, to the bank of elevators, trading his grip on my elbow for an arm around my waist when my knees wobbled. “None of this is your fault.”