When I was fifteen, years before I had even heard of a null, I got a summer job house-sitting for one of the richest families in Esperanza, the Mycrofts. Every day I would ride my bike the five miles to their house, water the plants, collect the mail, and check that the pool guy had been there and the appliances were all working, stuff like that. It was an easy gig, but I still remember tiptoeing into that huge empty house, feeling its stillness, and terrifying myself with the possibilities of what I might find or what I might do. I could search through all of their things if I wanted to, and no one would ever know. I could throw a pool party, try on all of Mrs. Mycroft’s expensive clothes, steal something, even. I never did a thing, of course, just did my job perfectly and got a big bonus at the end of the summer, but the thing I remember most about the house is that I always felt guilty when I was in it. Guilt because of what I could do.
That was exactly how it felt to be at Dashiell’s house in the daytime.
After Kirsten left, Hayne and I eyed each other warily for a moment, and then he turned left into the living room, gesturing for me to follow him. We went into the hall beyond and down a long hallway I hadn’t seen before. Dashiell’s mansion isn’t small, and I was nervous, so after a few minutes of silent walking I lost patience. “So how many daytime guys are there? I’ve only seen a couple.”
He grinned at me. “Enough.”
“Have you worked for Dashiell long?”
I’d meant this to be a polite small-talk kind of question, but Hayne gave me a sudden, measured stare as if I’d asked for nuclear codes. Finally he shrugged and smiled, and I let out a breath. “My family has. The Haynes have been working for Dashiell since before he was turned.”
It took a lot, but I managed not to giggle over the “Haynes working for Dashiell” thing. This guy would probably not appreciate an underwear reference. “This whole time?” I asked. “Like, generation after generation?”
He nodded calmly. “In each generation one kid has been chosen to serve Dashiell during the daytime. Sometimes more than one of us has wanted the job.” I wanted to laugh at the “in each generation” phrasing, but he was just so serious. And so very large. Besides, I was too flabbergasted. I knew from personal experience that Dashiell wasn’t exactly the world’s greatest boss. I would almost certainly never have kids, but if I did I couldn’t see myself sending them to Dashiell for work.
“Just…for money?” I asked.
“Not just that. Dashiell pays for training, for college, for health insurance. When my great-aunt got cancer back in the thirties, he turned her into a vampire to save her.” Hayne lifted his chin proudly. “Our family’s history has been intertwined with Dashiell’s for two centuries.”
It made sense, when I thought about it. Dashiell had piles of money, but when it came to safety, that wasn’t enough: someone who wanted him dead could always just offer more cash. What he really needed in a daytime guard was loyalty, and he’d found a way to earn that. It was actually very clever. “Do the other daytime guys have the same arrangement?”
“Nope,” Hayne rumbled, and then grinned at me again. For such a dangerous-looking guy, he was certainly quick to smile. For some reason, it made him scarier. “They’re just very well paid, and very loyal to me.”
Or, I thought, maybe just very afraid of you.
We finally reached a door at the end of yet another long hallway, and Hayne took hold of the doorknob. “You can hang out in here,” Hayne said to me in his deep voice. I braced myself for a dungeon or empty white cell, but when the door swung open I caught sight of an enormous, sunlit room filled floor to ceiling with books. Of all things.
I craned my head around, stumbling in after Hayne, trying to see all of them. The ceiling was twelve or fifteen feet high, with an astonishingly large skylight to let the sunshine in, and oak shelves covered each wall. The books looked like they were arranged more or less chronologically: the shelves on the west wall held ancient, browning covers with titles I could barely make out, while the south wall books looked all shiny and new. I was so busy looking that I bumped into a thickly stuffed blue armchair in the center of the room. There was another armchair and a matching couch with a coffee table that matched the shade of the bookshelves.
I was in love.
“The library,” Hayne boomed behind me. I turned to face him, finally remembering he was there. He was giving me a bemused grin. “You seem to like it okay.”
“It’s nice,” I said noncommittally, but I was thrilled and we both knew it. Hayne and I exchanged a smile. I considered making a comment about feeling like Belle in Beauty and the Beast, but wasn’t sure how he’d take the implication.
“There’s a bell over there,” Hayne said, pointing to a little brass bell on the shelf nearest the door we’d come through. “If you need something, ring it and one of the house staff will come. The bathroom is the very next door down the hall, on the right.” His face grew stern. “If you need to go anywhere else, ring the bell, and one of the house staff will get me or my men. You do not want to run around this house unescorted.” He said the last part with a lot of warning in his voice, and I found myself nodding emphatically. It would just suck if I got accidentally shot.
“Sounds good,” I managed. Hayne gave me a nod and turned to go. “Hayne?” I called after him. He turned back. “How do you know Kirsten?”
The guy was reasonably quick with the cheerful expressions, but the smile that spread across his face then was new and sort of mysterious. “She didn’t tell you?” he replied. “I was her first husband.”