They had a solar? “Thanks.” Walking up the stairs, she wandered around the second floor until she found the neatly concealed flight to the third, and began climbing.
Her breath escaped in a hush of sound the instant she entered the room at the end of the corridor. Light poured in through two glass wal s and a huge skylight to drench the room in sunshine. One of those wal s, she realized, seeing the window seat, was actual y latched. “Of course.” An angel wouldn’t worry about the danger of fal ing from such a height. And, the hunter in her murmured, it would also act as another exit, ensuring she’d never be trapped.
There wasn’t much in the room in terms of furnishings. A rug in a rich cream patterned with tiny golden leaves; a delicate little wooden table, its legs carved in graceful commas; a number of jewel-toned silk cushions on the window seat, that was it. Placing her plant on the ledge above the seat, she made her way down to the second floor. “Montgomery,” she cal ed out over the railing when she spotted him below.
The butler glanced up, doing his best not to appear scandalized by the fact that she was acting in a most uncivilized fashion. “Guild Hunter?”
“Does the solar belong to anyone?”
“I believe you have just claimed it.”
Grinning, she blew him a kiss and was almost sure he blushed. She was about to head back upstairs when she frowned, catching the unexpected caress of fur and chocolate and al things a little bit bad. “Why is Dmitri here?”
The vampire materialized out of the woodwork at the mention of his name, dressed in a black suit paired with a deep emerald green shirt, a sheaf of papers in hand. “No time to play today, Elena.” Yet a tendril of smoke and champagne wrapped around her. “I have to get back to the Tower.”
Seeing that Montgomery had left, Elena fought the urge to bury a dagger in the wal by Dmitri’s head, quite certain he was provoking her on purpose.
“Don’t let the door hit you on your way out.”
That tendril of smoke whispered into places it had no business going. “If you want to confirm the scent of Neha’s assassin,” he said, “they’re holding the body as is in the morgue til eleven.”
The kiss of musk on her senses, thick and drugging.
“Fuck!” The scent snapped off as Dmitri stared at the thin, silver knife that quivered in the wooden wal a bare centimeter from that sensual face with its Slavic cheekbones. Then, unexpectedly, he began to laugh, and it was perhaps the first time she’d heard the genuine thing from him.
It was potent. More sexy than any of his scent tricks.
Looking up, he gave her a strangely old-world bow, laughter stil creasing his cheeks. “I go now, Guild Hunter.” But he stopped at the door, his expression turning solemn. “I left a copy of the latest report on Hol y Chang in the library.”
Elena clenched her hand on the railing at the mention of the only one of Uram’s victims to have survived. The woman—girl real y—had been tainted by the dead archangel’s toxic blood ... an innocent, who in the ultimate insult, might turn monstrous. “How is she?” The last time Elena had seen Hol y, the girl had been naked and covered in the blood of Uram’s other victims, her mind broken.
Dmitri’s answer was a long time coming. “She appears to be in a stable relationship, but she is ... different. I may yet have to execute her.”
19
Dmitri’s chilling words continued to circle in Elena’s head as she dropped by the morgue to ensure the dead woman had indeed been the one who’d murdered the vampire in the park. Al it took was a single deep breath—the sweet poison of oleander was embedded in the assassin’s skin. That done, Elena snuck into the Tower to take a quick shower. It felt wrong to meet Evelyn straight after having come from the house of the dead.
“Here we go,” she said twenty minutes later as she led her sister through the solid steel doors of Guild Academy, conscious of the tension in that smal , sturdy body. “You’re too young to join as a ful member, and no one expects you to live here, but you’l be set a schedule of after-school classes to help you hone and control your abilities.”
Evelyn glanced over her shoulder, to where Amethyst walked stiff-backed beside Gwendolyn. “Amy can come with me?”
“Yes, if you want.” Unexpectedly, though it was Eve who was hunter-born, it was Amy with her fiercely nurtured anger and keen distrust who reminded Elena most of herself. Eve, she thought, was stil young enough to see the world as she wanted to see it. Amy had had the rose-colored lenses ripped off long ago, likely understood the painful truth of the relationship that seemed to exist between Gwendolyn and Jeffrey.
The ghost of Marguerite haunted them both.