“Fascinating. ”
After an awkward pause in which the vampires carefully studied the two of us, and with more interest than I liked, Sara stepped forward. “It’s very kind of you to extend us your hospitality, but we’re both very tired and hungry after that flight. Is there anything we can do for you, or would it be possible for us to get settled in?”
She had always been more direct than I was. Though I was dismayed to see that Clyde was watching us with the intense interest of one who is formulating devious plans and won’t be afraid to use them.
“Just a moment, before you go. I was just discussing with Fabian a little . . . problem I have been dealing with. You say you are PIs?”
Sara and I nodded, though I could tell she was just as wary as I was. This did not bode well for us.
“Excellent. Then I must insist upon your assistance with this matter. Perhaps you can help us determine who—or what—has been directing the zombies infesting the area.”
Sara’s mouth dropped open, as did mine. She recovered her voice more quickly than I did, probably thanks to her internship and few months spent as a practicing attorney in her parents’ company after she graduated law school.
“Zombies? Please tell me you’re joking.”
Clyde’s lips twisted into a smirk. “I’m afraid not. I don’t believe you would be in any danger. The creatures have only been attacking the vampires of my bloodline—they have not harmed anyone from other lines or with a pulse. If you wish to remain here, you can pay your way with your investigative skills. Find me their maker, and I will consider that adequate payment for your stay.”
Sara straightened, folding her arms and assuming the haughty ice-queen look she had perfected in her college debate classes. I was still struggling with the whole zombie thing, let alone the rest.
“As we understand it, Mr. Royce has already negotiated the terms of our stay. We’ll be happy to take on the job—for our usual fee.”
I had to hand it to her. She was much better under pressure than I was. Then I realized what she was saying and grabbed her arm. “Hold on a second. Sara, can I talk to you for a minute?”
The vampires both appeared intrigued by Sara’s reply. Fabian leaned forward on the couch, a gleam in his eye, and Clyde held out a staying hand. “Oh, no, Ms. Waynest. No need for that. I accept your terms. Considering your circumstances, I assume you would prefer payment by cash rather than a check. In the morning I’ll have one of my people fetch a deposit and a file with the information we have collected thus far.”
That wasn’t exactly what I had been going to talk to Sara about. Rather, I was worried about what the hell we were getting into, chasing zombies around a strange town on behalf of a vampire we barely knew. Royce’s parting reminder not to trust Clyde wasn’t going to do us any good if we tied ourselves to him in a business relationship. Having him as both our host and client was guaranteed to get awkward somewhere along the line—but it looked like it was too late to do anything about that.
“Thank you again, ladies. I’ll have someone escort you to the guest house. Tomorrow evening, one of my drivers will be made available whenever you are ready to search for the source of this infestation.” One of the security guards who had been hanging back in the shadows stepped forward, though he stopped in his tracks when Clyde held up a single finger. “I must warn you—there are certain parts of the San Fernando Valley which are off-limits to my people. You would do best to remain as close to the city and coastal region as possible.”
“We’ll keep that in mind,” I said. Though it made me uncomfortable to say the next part aloud, I didn’t want to give the vampire the idea that he could keep us completely under his thumb while we were here. “However, I can’t promise that we won’t spend some time in other parts of the Valley. We may have to follow leads or interview people who aren’t part of your network.”
Sara nodded. “As long as you let us do our job without interference, we’ll do our best to keep things discreet on your behalf.”
“Touché,” he murmured. “Well, then. I’ll see that you are adequately compensated for your efforts.”
With that, he turned his back on us and joined Fabian on the couch. Clearly we were dismissed. Judging by the hand Fabian was quick to place on Clyde’s inner thigh as he leaned in to whisper something, this was a good thing.
The security guard walked us out. The last glimpse I got of the two involved glowing eyes, extended fangs, and hands in interesting places.
Chapter 8
The guard who walked us out led us through a maze of hallways and rooms filled with people who had wandered to the fringes of the party. What felt like an age later, we were taken out a side door, stepping onto a brick-inlaid patio surrounded by palm fronds and vibrantly colored flowers. The change in temperature was intense, like stepping out of a food locker and into a sauna, making my skin feel tight and uncomfortably dry.
I wasn’t sure how Sara could stand the heat in that long-sleeved shirt of hers, but she gave no visible sign of discomfort. If anything, she was lost in thought—probably considering the mess she’d just thrown us both into by agreeing to help Clyde.
We walked around the Olympic-sized swimming pool, stepping around a group of people huddled together, passing a joint back and forth. Most of them looked familiar to me, but we didn’t linger, and it was too dark for me to be certain which stars I was spotting. On the other side of the pool, we went through a gate, down a set of steps cut into the steep slant of a hillside, and into another fairyland of twinkling lights, manicured garden paths, and burbling fountains.
Nestled against the side of the hill was an elegant miniature of the mansion. It put me in mind of those doghouses that were perfect replicas of their owners’ homes I once saw on some TV show about how the rich and famous spent their money.
Despite how minuscule this place was in comparison, it rivaled the size of my parents’ home back in New York. Though my two brothers and I had all moved out years ago, my parents had no plans of becoming snowbirds and migrating to Florida once my dad retired. They loved that house, and someday it would be passed down to Mike, Damien, and me.
That thought gave me a jolt. The last time I had spoken to my father, he had made it perfectly clear he no longer considered me part of the family. That made my stomach churn with anxiety I had managed to bury away while dealing with all the other problems on my plate.
Great. Now that I no longer had worries about turning furry when the moon was full, I could move on to wringing my hands over my family problems.
It would have to wait until I was alone. The security guard who led us up to the front door took a few moments to explain that we were the only ones staying in the guesthouse for the time being but that staff would come in and out regularly to clean, cook for us, handle our wardrobe—which I took as veiled condemnation of our current attire—and that other guests from the party might end up staying here as well.
He then gave us the code to the keypad that unlocked the front door and let us in. Our bags were already waiting just inside the entrance, next to a table with spindly legs and gold onions at the feet. There were sprigs of freshly cut jasmine and honeysuckle spilling from an ornate marble vase, and the scent permeated the place like a sickly sweet perfume.
I turned to ask the guard which rooms we could stay in, but he was already striding back to the mansion. Shaking my head, I shut the door and glanced around, noting that this place was decorated like some grand hotel lobby—lots of marble and gold shine designed to either intimidate and awe those who hadn’t grown up around money, or set those who had at ease.