Chapter 7

Zee didn’t joinme for breakfast. He was absent all day, and when night fell again, he wasn’t in the attic, or the bar, much to the dismay of the guests, who had been hoping for a second outing of the pole-dancing Zodiac. Was it wrong that he’d fed from their admiration? Probably a bit, but he wasn’t hurting anyone.

Clearly, I wasn’t the only one with hang-ups about all this—and us. He probably needed time to work through it all. And maybe it was for the best. We’d been working side by side for weeks, trying to get the hotel ready. A break would do us good.

I asked after Claymore again, and this time, when it became clear nobody had seen our head of security for two days, it appeared I might have a new problem. There was a chance Claymore had simply gone out, but he hadn’t been due any time off until the weekend, and I couldn’t protect anyone outside the hotel.

My gut was telling me Claymore’s absence had something to do with the dead Mr. Reese, who we’d found in Reynard’s room. Nobody had seen Claymore since the night before opening day. That timing couldn’t be a coincidence.

I ventured into the hotel gardens to get some fresh air and clear my head. The garden wasn’t much. We’d mowed a path through the weeds, and set up a picnic table where the view of the city’s sparkling night-lights stretched from east to west. The wards extended to the fringes of the iron fence, but most of the guests preferred to stay inside.

Quiet stars twinkled above, and my breath misted in the cool air.

I thrust my hands into my pockets. It was peaceful outside, so why did I feel as though the sides of a box were closing in around me?

“Would you like some company?”

My heart leaped into my throat. Reynard was just as good at appearing out of the blue as Zee could be. “No, I mean, it’s fine. I was just star-watching.”

“Beautiful.” His silver eyes sparkled in the dark, just like those ice-white stars above us.

“Aren’t they. That’s Ursa Minor—the uh, little spoon—and Ursa Major.”

“The big spoon?” Was Reynard smirking? Probably not. What could he know of little and big spoons?

“Right, and Draco...” He was watching my face, not the stars. But as I met his gaze, he looked up.

“Ageless and unchanging,” he said. “Civilizations rise and fall beneath their watch.”

“The things they must have seen but can’t tell a soul.”

“Perhaps they prefer not to interfere, knowing ultimately, it’s pointless. What will be, will be.”

Cheery. “I’ve always liked the stars...” I whispered, trailing off. “Whatever happens down here, they’re always up there. It’s reassuring.”

“You have no idea.” Their pale glow lit his face, making it leaner in the dark. “When you’ve lived as many lifetimes as I have, there’s little left that’s familiar. But the stars remain, ever diligent.”

Was it rude to ask how old he was? The way he talked, maybe Zee was right, and a thousand years wasn’t far off.

“You’re curious, Adam?”

“A little,” I admitted.

“I’ve lived long enough to see many stars die.”

If Zee were here he’d have some smart comment about that. I missed his outlook, needed his enthusiasm to keep me moving forward. Hopefully, he’d be back soon.

“You seem solemn this evening.”

“Oh, it’s just...have you seen our gargoyle security guard by any chance? His name’s Claymore, and well...I’ve sort of lost him.”

“How does one lose a gargoyle?”

Yeah, they were hard to miss. “I don’t know. I’ve looked everywhere. He doesn’t really have family. Nothing on his employment record. It’s...odd.”

“Concerning.”

“That too.”

“When was he last seen?”

“The night before opening day.”

“Ah.”

His “ah” said he’d put two and two together, and made five. A missing security guard and a dead guy.

“Did you ever find the murder weapon?” Reynard asked, his thoughts clearly aligning with mine.

“Haven’t had time to look.”

“Aren’t you curious why his body was left in that room for you to find?”

I hadn’t been, but now I was. “You think it was personal?”

“What else could it be?”

“I don’t know. Zee said some things about . . . uh . . . personal preferences some people have that might circumvent the wards.”

“La mort d’amour?”

And of course, he went straight to the death-sex explanation. “Self-inflicted, yes.”

“But no murder weapon. Suggesting someone was there with him when he died.”

“I’m guessing you’re kind of an expert in killing people, huh?”

“Despite the rumors, I’m rather an expert in keeping people alive. There’s little use in killing my food source.”

I hadn’t considered that. Humans were walking blood bags, that replenished themselves if rested. It didn’t make sense to kill your food source. Viruses evolved not to kill their hosts, and vampirism was more like a virus that infected its host than anything mystical or religious.

“You think Mr. Reese was a gift for me?” I asked.

“An unwelcome one.” Reynard studied our overgrown garden surroundings. “Do you have many enemies, Adam?”

A strained laugh fell out of me. “Enemies? No. Who would want to hurt me?”

“Indeed. But as amiable as you are, most people do not want Lost Ones congregating in their neighborhood.”

“You think it’s about the hotel?”

“I think the death was about you and the hotel. Who would have cause to disrupt what you’re trying to do here?”

My list of enemies was as numerous as those stars. “Most everyone.” I shrugged.

“Anyone in particular? A name that comes to you first, someone who might make all this personal. Someone capable of?—”

“Murder?” There was someone. Someone who really, really did not want my hotel to succeed. Someone who had already tried to disrupt what we’d built here, and had sent a journalist who knew all about the missing protestor before the police did. “Gideon Cain.”

Reynard’s eyes gleamed. “The man you cuckolded.”

“I cock-what’d?”

“That is to say, you got one over on him.”

Well, that was a nice way of saying it. Zee would have definitely had a more colorful selection of words for how we’d secured the hotel out from under Gideon Cain, despite his inflated offers.

I turned and gazed back down the path, up at the hotel. At night, its windows glowed, and the faded paint and broken soffits didn’t show. The hotel was a beacon in the dark, a sanctuary for all, a safe haven, a home to those who had none. “He does have an interest in seeing us fail.”

“A few million is more than enough to kill a man, and Gideon Cain has already proven money to be no obstacle.”

Of course, Reynard would know how much a murder cost. But how could I get close to Gideon Cain to ask him, and what would I say? I couldn’t accuse him of murder when as far as anyone knew, Mr. Reese was alive and well.

Could Gideon Cain have stolen Claymore? Was all this messiness the property developer’s doing? The more I considered it, the more irritated the notion made me. He had no right to interfere. Who did he think he was? And if he’d murdered the protestor and dumped the body in Reynard’s room? Well, that was uncalled for.

“We should meet with him,” Reynard suggested.

“We?” Uh oh.

“You can go alone, but forgive me...which one of us has more experience in the court of business?”

He made everything sound so reasonable. Zee would say no. I could hear him now, emphatically urging me not to accept Reynard’s help. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch. As I said before, I have an interest in the hotel succeeding, and to that end, I want to help where I can.”

He just said all of that with a perfectly straight face, and stood there, looking perfect and impeccable in his dark suit and buffed shoes. Nobody was that perfect. What was he hiding? “Tell me why you’re staying here. Who are you hiding from?”

He breathed in and sighed through his nose. “Very well. My family have certain... expectations.” He picked at an invisible speck of dust on his sleeve. “Expectations I’ve tried to avoid, but blood ties are not easily severed.”

This had to be a vampire nobility thing. But that was fine. I didn’t need to know any more, just that he had a genuine reason for helping. And I couldn’t deny, he’d definitely be of help when facing off against Gideon Cain—billionaire to billionaire.

“Do you think he’ll meet with me?” I asked.

“Not if he’s involved in all this. But he will meet with me.” A sneaky smile crept onto Reynard’s thin lips. “He doesn’t have to know you’re coming along.”

Did I really think Gideon Cain was capable of murder just to see my hotel fail? At the very least, we could meet with him and see what his intentions were, if he had any.

Reynard nodded. “I’ll have my people set up a meeting.”

It sounded as though this was happening, but I really needed to run it by Zee before he got the wrong idea about me working with Reynard.

He should have been back by now . . .