It wasn't that I didn't understand the gravity of what Brax and Sondra had warned me about, but I also didn't trust them without reservation. I wanted to talk to Caroline first. If they just showed up and tried to force her back to the farm, I could see her snapping. Neither one of us dealt well with ultimatums—something the vampires and werewolves refused to acknowledge. If I found her first, I might be able to talk her around. And if things were as dire as Brax said, with her sanity in question, no way was I risking he would change his mind about putting her down. I'd figure something else out if I had to.
Until then, I just needed to figure out a way to slip my guard and then find her.
I threw my wallet on the end table and dug into the pocket of my jeans, pulling out the note Lowen had given me. It was tightly folded and looked a bit like origami.
I examined it with a frown. It would be easy to rip this thing and lose the message inside. I used a finger nail to pull loose one edge of the paper, and then with careful movements unfolded it bit by bit, working the paper as if it was a puzzle.
Finally, I had the message flat on the end table. It was definitely Caroline's handwriting.
Aileen,
They will be closing in on me soon, so I need to go. Don't worry about me, and don't look for me. I'll be fine. I never should have involved you in this. I'll never forget senior year, and please look after my cat.
Caroline
I folded the paper back up, my folds nowhere near as neat as they'd been before I unwrapped it. I tapped the paper against my thigh as I stared around in thought. I ignored the part about not looking for her. It'd been written with the purpose of allaying her pursuers’ minds of my involvement should the note have been intercepted before reaching me. That I was sure of. The part about the cat and senior year was a message. I just wasn't sure of the meaning.
Caroline didn't own a cat; I didn't even think she liked them. She'd always been more of a dog person, which given her new circumstances, was probably a good thing.
Also, what did she mean by her reference to senior year? That was almost a decade ago, and a lot of things happened that year. I couldn't be sure which one she was referring to.
I stuffed the paper back into the pocket of my jeans to ponder later. For now, I had to keep up the charade and that meant unpacking. I grabbed the bag and headed over to one of the dressers. My things would probably need only a drawer or two. I opened the first drawer to find it filled with underthings. All with the tags still on them. I closed the drawer and stared at the dresser for a long moment. I bent to open another drawer, this one full of nice blouses and a few camisoles. I fingered one, sliding the tag out. My size.
Next, I walked over to the closet and slid the barn door to the side, revealing a space nearly as big as my apartment bedroom. It wasn't empty. Shoes sat like tidy little soldiers in their brackets and one side was full of clothes. I pushed a few aside, stopping to admire a nice leather jacket—again, in my size with the tags still on it. The price made my eyebrows climb, and I let out a low whistle. Expensive. Nice, but super pricey.
I wanted to shrug the new clothes off, ascribe it to them being in the wrong place. They were really for some other vampire who had just moved in, not me.
Even my inner ostrich couldn't bring herself to believe that—especially in light of the new information from Rick. No, whoever had commissioned this room had evidently found time to buy me a whole new wardrobe.
The question was why, and what strings were attached to all of these expensive little price tags.
I left the closet and its wealth of new clothes and headed back to the dresser. I chose one of the drawers and emptied it out, re-homing the clothes inside to make room for my own. Opening my gym bag, I grabbed the folded clothes and transferred them to their new home.
Finished unpacking, I frowned and pulled the bag closer to me, tilting it so I could see inside its depths. Empty. I unzipped both pockets, feeling around, even though I knew it was pointless. The Judge was gone. My hand knocked against something hard, my heart leaping in relief for a moment before falling again, as I pulled out a plain, leather-bound book.
"You again." My sigh was exasperated.
I tilted it for a glimpse at the spine, narrowing my eyes at the title A Study of the Unexplained. Under the title was a subtitle. What Any Idiot Should Know About the Supernatural. Looked like the book had given itself another title change. Last week it was calling itself, The Adventures of the Criminally Stupid.
The book had attached itself to me earlier this year during an ill-advised break-in to the shadow library hiding inside the Book Haven, a well-known independent book store in the area. I'd been hoping for a guide that would help me understand this shadow world. What I got instead was a sentient, smart-ass book that was only occasionally helpful. Previous attempts to read it had been met with frustration and circular logic. It only gave useful information when it suited it. The rest of the time it was little more than a paperweight.
"I'd rather have my gun," I told it before tossing it on the dresser.
I set my hands on my hips and glared at the bag as if that would make the Judge appear. Unfortunately for me, it didn't work.
Giving up on mentally willing it to make its presence known, I headed for the other room where I could hear Nathan had figured out the TV. He and I were going to have a long talk about boundaries.
"So, it seems there’s a key item missing from my belongings," I said, stepping into the living room.
Nathan was sprawled across the couch, watching a baseball game. I paused at the incongruous sight of a lethal vampire watching something as normal as baseball, before shaking off the oddity.
He rotated his head to look at me, not moving from his spot. He shot me a lazy smile before going back to watching the game. "You didn't think we'd let you keep your little pea shooter, did you? We've got rules here—the first being, unaffiliated baby vamps aren't allowed to be armed on the premises."
"First, the Judge is not a pea shooter. It is a high-powered revolver that is easily handled and maintained."
"It's also ineffective against most spooks," he said, without taking his eyes off the TV.
"And yet I was able to kill Eleanor with it." I folded my arms across my chest.
"You got lucky; you probably won't be a second time."
I left that alone. There hadn't been any luck involved. I was prepared and had learned my lesson from my previous failures.
"How did you know I even had it?" I asked.
He tapped an ear. "Superior hearing, remember? I heard you take it out of your safe." He then tapped his nose. "Also, I could smell the gun oil you use to clean it."
I filed that last piece away. I'd known about the hearing—though mine was nowhere near as sensitive as his—but hadn't realized we also had a heightened sense of smell.
"Any chance I'm going to get it back?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Anything is possible; however, the chances of you getting that thing back while you're under this roof are improbable." He gave me a jaunty grin. "Liam decides who goes armed in the mansion."