“Sounds like a plan.” She gulped another slug of scotch and the warmth flowed through her body, mellowing her mind. She raised the bottle. “It’s good stuff.”
He shrugged. “I know your helping me puts you in some sort of danger. I don’t know what or how bad, because you won’t open up to me. But I wanted to say thanks.”
She squirmed in her seat. She wasn’t used to people thanking her. It sort of made her feel guilty. As though if they really knew her, knew some of the things she had done, they wouldn’t be thanking her. She remembered again the screams of the villagers that night.
Her mother’s death had not gone unavenged.
Do you want them to pay? Asmodai had asked her. And she’d nodded her head then watched as he had unleashed chaos.
It hadn’t brought her mother back.
“You’re not very good at accepting thanks, are you?” Ryan’s wry query brought her back from the past.
“Scotch, yes. And maybe a box of chocolates or a bunch of flowers.”
“You like chocolates and flowers?”
“Of course, why shouldn’t I?” She was going to add that she was normal, wasn’t she, but that might have been straining the truth a little far.
They were silent the rest of the trip, and Ryan dropped her off outside her apartment building. Roz let herself in, but came to an abrupt standstill just inside the door. A woman stood, leaning against the wall as if she had every right to be there. She wore a skin-tight black leather cat-suit—very appropriate—and an expression of disdain on her face. They’d never gotten along.
“Make yourself at home,” Roz muttered. She hated the idea of the woman entering her apartment.
Shera pushed herself languidly away from the wall and stepped toward her. A good eight inches taller than Roz, even without the four-inch heels, she peered down, a superior smile curving her scarlet lips. “Nice outfit.”
“Thanks.”
“My Lord Asmodai instructed—”
“Tell me,” Roz interrupted. “Do you actually call him that to his face?” No wonder he had delusions of grandeur. Or maybe they weren’t delusions.
“Of course. My Lord—”
“And what does he call you?” She’d always wondered how close the two were. “Kitty? Fluffy?”
Shera gritted her teeth and thrust her hand out. Roz grabbed the proffered envelope. It contained a disk, presumably with the monitoring system for the bug she’d planted in Piers’ office. “Show yourself out,” she said to Shera. Not waiting for a response, she took her disc into the living room and closed the door behind her. She was eager to see if the bug was working and whether Piers was actually saying anything that might be of use finding Jessica.
The front door slammed. Good.
A big mirror hung on the wall. Roz tugged off the cumbersome headdress and twisted around so she could examine the side of her neck. Two neat fang marks marred the pale skin. But the wounds were closed and healing fast. A little shiver of pleasure ran through her as she remembered the feel of his big body wrapped around hers, his fangs lodged deep in her throat.
She shook her head to dispel the memory. A change of clothes was needed badly, but first, she wanted to get the disk set up. She powered on the laptop and was just slipping the disk into the drive when Maria appeared in the doorway to her bedroom. She was a mess, and Roz had to bite back a smile. Maria was wearing a pair of her sweats—way too big—and an equally too large T-shirt. Her short hair stood on end, as if she’d slept on it wet—which she probably had. She looked nothing like a nun. More like a homeless waif, the impression exacerbated by the lost expression on the woman’s face.
She shifted from one foot to the other. “Have you contacted the mother house?”
“Not yet. I can do it now though—sort out a car to take you this afternoon.”
Maria bit her lip. “Would you wait?”
“Wait for what?”
“I’m not ready to go to the mother house. I won’t feel safe—I know I won’t.” She glanced at her bare feet and back to Roz. “I feel safe here, with you.”
Roz wondered how much she could tell the sister. The truth was she was probably safer here than most places, though Roz doubted Jack would follow her to the mother house. He had gone to the convent for a specific purpose—to get the Key. The Key Roz wanted.
Should she let Sister Maria stay? Usually she was happy on her own, but she found she quite liked the idea of company. For a while, at least. Soon she would leave this life forever—there would be time enough then to be alone.
“Okay, you can stay. For a while. But I’m going to call you Maria—none of this sister crap.”
Maria’s relief was almost palpable, and a smile flashed across her face, making her almost pretty.
“Thank you.”
Two “thank yous” in one day. That had to be a record. “Do you know how to make coffee?” she asked.
“I think I can remember.”
“Well, make yourself useful. There’s something I have to do—then we’ll have a chat.”