“And I’m not a prisoner. I can come and go?”
Well, you can come, and frequently, Piers wanted to say. On the other hand, going wasn’t an option. But maybe he’d leave that bit of information for now. “Why don’t you stay a while, work with Jonas, identify this demon, and we might be able to get him off your back without finding this Key. Jonas can also tell you something about what goes on here and maybe what you are and what you can do.”
“Okay, I’ll stay.”
“I’ll show you to the guest quarters,” Tara said. “Get you settled in.”
Piers almost protested at that—he wanted to get her settled in—but Roz was looking a little dazed. Maybe she needed time to adjust to what was happening, and he had things to do. Trying to locate Andarta, for one.
Roz nodded, her relief obvious. He got up and followed her to the door, halting her with a hand on her arm as she was about to follow Christian and Tara out. He leaned in close and whispered in her ear. “I’d like that vibrator back—any relief you get is going to come from me.”
She shot him a filthy look. “Piss off.”
Chapter Ten
Roz’s mind was reeling.
She was immortal.
The Order had no plans to kill her. They would never have killed her. But her father’s people might. Whoever he was. She’d told the truth; she only had the vaguest of memories of him.
She gave Tara a quick sideways glance. Tara was half-fae, and she reminded Roz of the few hazy memories she had of her father. He’d been blond, with green eyes, just like Tara. But maybe that was something all the fae shared.
Except her. She’d gotten her looks almost exclusively from her mother.
She swayed and balanced herself with a hand flat to the cool wall. There was too much to take in; plus she reckoned she’d drunk about half a bottle of scotch in there, and she was feeling the effects.
Lack of sleep.
Worry.
Scotch.
Relief.
All were milling together in her mind.
She had an overwhelming urge to lie down in a darkened room and pass out. Soon, she promised herself.
“Come on,” Tara said from beside her. “You look about ready to keel over.”
Yeah, that about summed it up.
She glanced at the other woman curiously. This was Asmodai’s daughter—it was hard to believe. Impossible, really. Tara was about her height—which was no height at all. She had bright blond hair cut in a blunt bob and grass-green eyes, which were returning Roz’s inspection.
She grinned. “Hard to believe, isn’t it?”
“What is?”
“That I’m half-demon. I take after my mother. Come on, we’ll get you settled in the guest quarters, then you can have half an hour asking questions—I can see you’ve got tons. I was the same.”
They were heading toward the elevator when Roz stopped.
“Sister Maria—we have to go get her. She’s still in the cells.”
“We called down, and someone is taking her to the guest suite. She’s probably already there.”
“Oh, good.” Behind her, she could hear the murmur of voices and knew it was Christian, Piers, and the warlock. She really couldn’t take any more of Piers right now—she wasn’t feeling strong enough to counter his barbed comments. At the same time, some inner voice whispered that she couldn’t allow him to see her as vulnerable in any way, or he would use it. “Come on, let’s go.”
Tara glanced behind her and smiled as if she could understand exactly what was going through her mind. Maybe she could? What a horrible thought.
“They can be a little overpowering,” Tara murmured.
“They can be total assholes,” Roz countered.
Tara laughed. “Christian, not so much, but Piers….Yeah, I’d say asshole covers it. It comes from getting his own way too much.” She stopped by the elevator and pressed the button. The doors slid open and she gestured inside. “He needs someone to take him down a bit.”
“Well, don’t look at me.” She let out a sigh of relief as the doors closed and the elevator swept them upward. “So you’re a newlywed?” she asked.
Tara smiled. “Six months.”
“What’s it like being married to a vampire?”
Tara opened her mouth to answer, but the doors opened and she paused. They stepped out and directly into the guest suite. Through the tall windows opposite, Roz could see the lights of the city of London spread out. They were high up.
“We’re in the penthouse,” Tara said.
Roz gave her a sharp glance. “Can you read my mind?”
“No, but your face is very easy to read, when you stop trying to hide what you’re thinking.”
Roz rubbed a finger between her brows. “I’m too tired to hide. It’s been a busy few days.”
Tara reached out and rested her palm on Roz’s forearm. “You don’t have to hide from me. Whatever you are—it makes no difference. It’s what you’ve done that matters.”
Roz shrugged free and stepped away, moving closer to the window to stare out into the night. “Well, that’s a total bummer, because I’ve done some pretty bad things in my long life.”
“I’m betting not so bad.”
She swung around. “You know nothing.”
Tara shrugged. “Look at how you’ve taken care of Sister Maria.”
“I couldn’t get rid of her. Clung like a bloody burr.”
“Of course she did. That’s why you wanted to get her out of the cells just now.”
At that moment, one of the doors that led off the reception area swung open, and Maria stood in the doorway. Wearing a fluffy dark blue robe that covered her from head to toe, she was rubbing at her short hair with a matching towel. She looked almost like a normal human being, and Roz smiled at the thought.
“Hi,” Maria said. She even sounded human. Maybe there was life after the convent.
“You okay?” Roz asked and Maria nodded.
Tara stepped forward. “Hi, we haven’t met, though you’ve met my husband, Christian. I’m Tara.”
Maria took the outstretched hand and shook it a little tentatively.
Tara turned to Roz. “Why don’t you go shower and I’ll make some coffee. Afterward, you can ask your questions and then get some sleep.”
That sounded so good.
She stripped off the heavy habit for what she really hoped was the last time. Standing under the spray of scalding water, she let some of her tension drain away. Maybe freedom wasn’t beyond her reach, and she could come out of this with everything she’d dreamed of. And more.
She no longer had to fear that she would be killed for what she was. With that realization, a huge weight dropped away from her. She felt almost light, as though bubbles were rising up inside her.
Asmodai, the selfish bastard, had lied, and she understood why. He’d aimed to keep her under his power, and what better way than to make her believe that everyone else was out to kill her? That she had no friends anywhere in the world?
Well, what had she expected? He was a demon. He’d never pretended to be Mr. Nice-guy. But somehow, she had come to trust him, and it hurt to know that he had isolated her in such a deliberately premeditated manner.
Now, she would have to decide what to do. She still had the Key. Or Ryan did. Should she hand it over to Asmodai and gain her freedom? Or should she put her trust in these people, who she really knew very little about?
They claimed they wouldn’t have actually killed her themselves, but they wouldn’t have stood in the way if her father’s people had tried to do the job. She closed her eyes and tried to remember her father, but the memory remained nebulous. It was as though there was a curtain in her mind, hiding the memories. A curtain she couldn’t draw back. So she stopped trying. For now. Instead, she switched off the water and worked out what questions to ask Tara.