“I’ll pass.”
When he took his seat again, the monitor illuminated his pale face. I wondered if it was his black nail polish and ear studs that made him look young, because something had changed in his expression from the man I’d met at the club. Houdini had a straight nose and a regal look that placed him out of this century. A few tiny moles; thin, almond-shaped eyes; lips slightly parted—he was neither exceedingly handsome nor ugly. He didn’t look familiar, but something about his presence felt comfortable. One thing in recent memory that seemed off was a conversation with another customer at Claude’s salon. While everything else about that day stood out in vivid detail, I only had a vague recollection of that talk. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember a thing about that person, including if they were male or female. Thinking about it gave me a stabbing pain in my temple.
How could a man so seemingly normal be trading women as bloodslaves? Worst of all, he didn’t think he was doing anything wrong.
“What do you do with all your money?” I asked, looking at his modest abode.
“Give to the poor. Is that what you want to hear?” He continued typing, never removing his eyes from the screen.
“The truth would be nice.”
“Money is a tool, but it’s also a means of security. Those who squander their fortune are doomed. How much thought have you given to your immortality? Friends don’t last; jobs come and go. Will you be able to support yourself a thousand years from now when technology has surpassed your ability to keep up? Forever is a long time.”
“You must have a lot squirreled away if you enjoy drinking from everyone’s bottles and eating off their plates.”
“I only do that to eliminate the paper trail. Even with cash, human bars collect ID when you run a tab.”
I crossed my ankle over my knee. “Do you normally get chummy with your hostages?”
He took a bite of his pastry, white powder coating his upper lip. “It depends. Some are too busy screaming as if I were a deranged killer. Most enjoy captivity and are willing to give themselves up to any possibility.” He set down the beignet and wiped off his mouth. “I once admired you, but it’s disappointing to see you with Keystone.”
A chill snaked up my spine.
He shrugged and licked his lip. “There’s that look again. I miss your little pet name for me.”
“Asshole?”
He chuckled. “No. We once had a few interactions, and you called me Chaos. I called you Butterfly. It was our thing.”
I rubbed my temple. Maybe this guy was full of it and liked playing mind games. “You’re so full of shit. You’ve got me here because you want a key. Now you’re trying to convince me that we’ve always been best pals. Well, I’m not buying it.”
Houdini sipped from his red thermos and then finished typing something before he sat back. “I don’t like to meddle in people’s lives unless the opportunity invites it. A while ago, your drunk friend lost his keys at the club, so I took them. Nothing interesting happened, so I returned them the next day. That’s when I ran into you and gave you information to help your case. I warned you not to go to the Bricks in the daytime, but something told me you would anyhow. When you left behind the vehicle and went running around with your partner, I filled the tank with gas and made sure no one took it apart. I’m not the villain you desperately want me to be. I’m not entirely evil, and you’re not entirely good. Mostly I’m an observer.”
How could he have known about that? Maybe he charmed the information out of me during the kidnapping, and this was what he did to all his victims. The more he talked, the more I began to question my own sanity.
“Just an observer?” I asked. “When you’re meddling in people’s lives by kidnapping them and turning them into Vampires?”
“Explain to me how that’s wrong when they come willingly? Willingly, Raven.”
I leaned forward, tamping down my anger. “It doesn’t matter what they think before you bring them here. It’s what happens after. Humans are na?ve; you can’t expect them to fully understand the life they’re signing up for by posting a brief little message in a chat room. This isn’t the same as turning a trusted human who’s lived in our world for years.”
He stood up and dragged an upholstered chair just like mine over to the glass so it was as if we were sitting next to each other. “You left a message that said you wanted to see what was possible.”
“I was baiting you.”
“I don’t believe that’s the whole truth.” He crossed one ankle over his knee and brushed dirt off the bottom of his bare foot. “I want to show people what’s possible. Don’t you want that for yourself? Deep down, Raven. No bullshit. If you could just put aside your verbal assaults so we can move past my being the villain in this situation. Do you think Keystone is all that you’re capable of doing in this world? You’re not living by your rules—by your motives. That was something you did when you lived on the streets. That’s freedom.”
I rubbed my eye. “Freedom doesn’t pay the bills.”
“Doesn’t it?” He gestured toward his home. “How much does one person need to survive? You told me yourself that all you needed in this world was a dry place to sleep and a purpose.”
Anger swelled as I realized this guy knew too much about me. “Give me back my memory.”
He reclined his head and heaved a sigh. “What good will it do? I’ll just have to take it away again.”
I stood up and rested my forehead against the glass. “I don’t care. It’s mine, and I want it back.”
He quickly rose to his feet and gazed down at me with a familiarity that made me shudder. “Didn’t it feel good being the Shadow? There was nothing wrong with the life you were living. Viktor wants to convince you that there was, but it’s a lie. He only wants you for his own reasons—to make money.”
“That’s not true. Viktor has integrity.”
He pressed his forehead to the glass, a somber look in his eyes. “You don’t miss your old life? Not the struggle, but the absolute freedom?”
Of course I missed it, but I wasn’t about to tell him that.
“Living by another’s rules defines your purpose, doesn’t it?” he pressed. “All rogues aren’t evil; you know that as well as I do. The higher authority is about control and fear—fear that they’ll lose control and humans will find out we exist. I don’t make decisions with malicious intent, and neither did you. Evil men crossed your path, and you did something about it.”
“I still do.”
“But now you have an agenda. You can’t select your victims anymore. Justice isn’t swift, and rules must be obeyed. Tell me that turning a blind eye each time you go out doesn’t bother you. Convince me that you don’t secretly miss the good old days when you could take matters into your own hands without asking permission. No meetings, no files, no planning.”