Got it. "Milo, can I ask you one question?"
He flexed his right hand around the steering wheel, then sighed. "Yes. One."
"Did you kiss him back?"
"No. I was a little too surprised at the time."
"Do you wish you had?"
He gave me a sideways look. "That's two questions, Evy."
"I know."
His attention went back to the road, which left my second question hanging there. And something about his silence made me think the answer was yes.
Alucard Comm was north of Uptown, on the outskirts of where most of the city's higher end businesses and restaurants were located. The place reminded me of a military compound, with its electric perimeter fence and rolling front gate. The building itself was an experiment in modern art, with strange angles and architecture I couldn't hope to understand the aesthetics of. The exterior was mirrored to reflect the city around it and the sky above, giving no hint as to which parts were actually windows and which were walls. Seductive and scary, just like the Bloods.
I didn't have much of a plan in mind when Milo pulled up in front of the guard hut. An older woman with gray hair and a boring blue uniform stepped out of the hut, then crouched down to peer in through Milo's open window.
"Do you have an appointment?" she asked.
"Not as such," Milo said.
"My name is Evangeline Stone," I said, leaning closer to his window. "This is Milo Gant. We're friends of Isleen."
None of the names earned so much as an eyebrow twitch from the lady guard. She eyeballed me, then Milo. "One moment." She disappeared into the hut.
"You wanna lay odds on whether or not she's calling security to have us escorted off the premises?" Milo asked.
"I've been surprised too many times today to lay odds on anything."
We waited, engine idling, until the guard stepped back outside. "You're cleared to go in. An escort will meet you in the lobby."
"Thank you," Milo said.
The gate rolled back. He drove down a short road that opened into a small, twenty-car lot marked Visitor's Parking. A secondary road continued past the lot, probably to private underground parking. I was crazy curious where they kept their helicopters, too. Three other cars were in the lot—for show as likely as anything, since it was Monday morning when most people were going to work.
Unless they already lived in their building of employment. My own commute was a short walk down a mall corridor.
I sent a quick text to Wyatt, telling him where we were and what we were about to do. You couldn't be too careful before walking into a completely unknown situation, and I had too much to live for now to take stupid risks.
The main entrance to Alucard surprised me with its simplicity. For some reason, I expected higher security, or something akin to a prison visitation setup with iron doors and keycards. The revolving door could be found at any business center, and the lobby had a high, domed ceiling with modern chrome fixtures and two large, black leather couches. Behind the couches was a single elevator door, which dinged at almost the exact moment we walked inside.
The elevator opened. A tall, willowy man with short, white hair and piercing lavender eyes strode toward us. He walked with such grace he practically floated, and he wore a red robe reminiscent of one I'd seen Isleen's father wear once, only this one was far less ornate. He stopped just out of arm's reach, then bent slightly at the waist, as if bowing.
"Welcome," he said. "My name is Eulan, of the house of Noro."
"Evangeline Stone," I replied. "My associate, Milo Gant. We represent the interests of the Watchtower Initiative."
"I know. I have heard of you, Ms. Stone."
My reputation had a habit of preceding me pretty much everywhere. "Forgive my bluntness, but I've never heard of you."
He smiled, which only sharpened the angles of his face—and showed off his fangs. "That does not surprise me. Although I imagine you do not know very many of my kin on a first name basis. Aside from those who briefly partook in your Watchtower, of course."
"Speaking of whom, may I inquire about Isleen's condition?"
"Your inquiry is not unexpected, and it is why I volunteered to meet with you."
"So you can politely tell me to mind my own business?"
Eulan's mouth twitched. "Not quite. Isleen spoke of you more than once to me. She respects you, Ms. Stone, and she values your friendship. Few humans have ever made the same impression."
"She was the first vampire I ever trusted." It might have sounded like a small thing, but given my previous personal point-of-view on anything not human, it was huge. Once someone fully gained my trust, I'd fight hard for them. "I also valued her friendship. But she never spoke to me of you."
"She would have no reason. Vampires are not as…chatty as humans, when it comes to our personal relationships. Isleen and I are promised in our equivalent of marriage."
Are promised—present tense. It gave me hope. "So she's alive?"
"She is…not yet dead."
"What does that mean?"
Eulan directed us to the two black sofas. I sat with him, while Milo stood nearby and listened. "It means that we are still seeking a cure for our brethren who were infected by Thackery's virus. It is fast-moving and devastating, and the only way to halt the virus's progress is to subject it to extreme cold."
I stared. "You froze them?"
"They are being carefully monitored by our physicians as their bodies maintain temperatures well below that required for cognitive function."
"In English?"
"They froze them," Milo said.
Eulan raised a single white eyebrow in Milo's general direction. "The process is more complicated than that, but yes. Many of those infected have led long lives. We will not give up on them."
I appreciated the sense of loyalty the vampires had for each other, and it gave me a fresh perspective on the Fathers' decision to pull support out of the Watchtower. They had their own people—sick and well—to worry about.
"What about the Watchtower volunteers who were not infected?" Milo asked.
"Until we understand the virus better," Eulan said, "they remain quarantined. We cannot guarantee that they will not inadvertently infect others. Such results would be disastrous to our people."
"So they stay locked up indefinitely?"
"Correct."
I thought of Quince, a relatively young vampire I'd worked with for several weeks. He was a natural actor and eager to make a difference through the Watchtower. He hadn't been infected. The virus had been linked to a sunscreen that allowed vampires to walk around in sunlight, and Quince had never used it. But he was still locked up, a prisoner among his own people, for something that wasn't his fault.
"I am sorry I do not have better news for you," Eulan said.
"It's more news than I've had in a month," I said. "For all of our differences, I consider Isleen, Quince, and Eleri to be my friends. I care about what happens to them."
"Then allow us to do our work as we see fit. Humans have an uncanny need to control the uncontrollable, and in this we will not be moved."
"We won't interfere. That isn't why I came today. But please, if you need anything, you can ask."
"Appreciated, Ms. Stone. However, as I understand, you have your hands full with other obligations."
"You mean our old, sewer-dwelling enemies who are coming out of hiding?"
"The very same. We despise the goblins as much as you do. I am sorry that we cannot offer our assistance this time."