“What about damage?” said Darryl. His voice was usually deep, but unhappy as he was, it had dropped until it was almost difficult to distinguish words. “Can we break down locked doors?”
Adam nodded. “We need to clear the seethe, and we aren’t going to dawdle about. No unopened doors, no unsearched rooms. Be thorough.”
The designated four jumped the wall, taking the shortest way to the guesthouse. I found I could sort of catch a glimpse of its roof if I hopped a bit for more height.
“Mercy,” said Adam.
“Just making sure it’s still there,” I told him. I caught up to him as he got to the front door.
It was unlocked.
I couldn’t decide if that meant anything. Marsilia wouldn’t be worried about thieves, but I’d have expected her to lock the whole place down during the day.
“Like a flytrap,” Ben said, hesitating before he entered the foyer. “You know—open maw to sucker the flies inside.”
“Thanks for that,” I said, and he grinned, though he didn’t look any less spooked.
The interior of the house hadn’t changed since the last time I’d seen it. Like the exterior, it showed the influences of the Spanish explorers in the tiles, textures, and color choices of the decor. Our summer heat meant that Spanish-influenced architecture was pretty common in the Tri-Cities.
“The entrance into the basement is in the kitchen,” Adam said as he led the way.
“I know,” I said. “The first time I came here I escaped that way.”
He nodded. “This house is mostly for show, but Marsilia is unpredictable, so don’t get complacent.” That was directed at Warren and me, I thought. No one could get complacent in the tunnels, which reeked of blood, death, and vampire. “Look for anything that might tell us where they went.”
“That’s more likely to be in the guesthouse,” I said. Marsilia spent her daylight hours in the smaller building, where her enemies would not expect her to be. “But we’ll stay on our toes and look everywhere.”
I met his gaze and he held it for a minute, then nodded.
The kitchen was the same as it had been the first time I’d seen it. Bird’s-eye maple cabinets and cream-colored Spanish stone countertops added to the effect of the backlit stained-glass panels on the walls, making the kitchen appear bright and airy despite the lack of windows. The stainless-steel elevator doors were in line with the fridge and a walk-in freezer, making for a wall of metallic gray without so much as a fingerprint smudge.
Adam and his team got into the elevator—and Adam looked at Warren. “Don’t get complacent.”
“You got it, boss,” drawled Warren. He looked more like himself than he had when he’d gotten out of Honey’s SUV, but I didn’t miss the tension in his shoulders.
After the elevator closed and hauled my mate down to the bowels of the earth, I said, “Sorry you got stuck with babysitting duty.”
As the least able fighter, I was always destined to be stuck with exploring the main house because it would be the safest place. All the scary stuff would be down in the tunnels. Warren, however, was one of the pack’s big guns.
“Best use for me,” Warren said. “I’m unlikely to pick a fatal quarrel with you.” Almost to himself, he growled, “I could really have refrained from poking at Darryl before he had to face vampires.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
He looked at me thoughtfully. “Bonarata is challenging our ability to protect our territory. Our vampire allies have disappeared—except for Wulfe, who is killing people with a cursed weapon. People we are responsible for protecting are disappearing and dying. Fuel costs more than it did this time last year, and I’m still stuck with the conviction that it should be twenty-five cents a gallon. Financial disparity is at an all-time high.”
I frowned at him. He knew what I meant.
“It’s nothing,” he said with a growl in his voice. “It’s fucking nothing, Mercy.” Warren didn’t swear much. He saw my look and said, “Leave it.”
“Are you sure I can’t help?” I asked.
He looked at me, then away. “I am very tired of being pushed,” he said. “Let me tell you how this is gonna be. We are gonna look through this house and find damn all. And you are going to leave me the fuck alone while we do it. I am tired of you sticking your Little Miss I-Can-Fix-It nosey self in my fucking business.”
I blinked back sudden hurt tears.
I was tired. I was scared. I was worried about Adam and the rest down in the tunnels. I was worried about Zee. About poor Aubrey, who would never get to kiss his secret crush.
I had two choices. I could stand here and cry—or I could get mad. Guess which one I chose.
Warren started methodically searching the kitchen. I did the same beginning from the opposite side.
The fridge and walk-in freezer had never been used—nor had the dishwasher. Both still had that fresh-out-of-the-box smell, even though I was pretty sure it was still the same fridge that had been here three years ago. The cupboards were empty of food, though there were dishes and cookware in appropriate locations.
“Staged,” Warren said, surveying the empty pantry. “Shall we move on?”
I didn’t respond. Didn’t look at him. I just stalked out of the kitchen to the next room I came to. We worked in silence while I nursed my righteous anger until I could pretend that I wasn’t hurt.
Mostly.
Despite knowing that the whole huge house was mostly a decoy, I had expected that exploring the home of our local seethe would have been more interesting. But Warren had found the right word—it was staged. The whole house aped a place where people lived. Closets and drawers were empty. Rooms were beautifully decorated, walls filled with good but not expensive art. There was not a trace of personality anywhere.
Adam was risking his life in the tunnels, and I was wandering through a house that could have been a showroom for a Southwestern-themed furniture catalog. And I was doing it with someone who was tired of me.
He was so obviously in a hurry that I’d started slowing down just to irritate him. We were going through the last room on the main floor, the second room we’d run into that was pretending to be an office, when Warren finally snapped.
He had gone through the desk, both closets, and a small bookcase and had to wait for me. He tapped his foot once as I shut the bottom drawer of the totally empty three-drawer filing cabinet I’d just spent five minutes looking through.
I looked at his foot. Then I tipped the filing cabinet on its side so I could examine the bottom, just in case there was a concealed hiding place. But it was solid.
“What are you looking for?” Warren growled. They were the first words that either of us had said to the other since we’d left the kitchen.
I blinked at him. Set the filing cabinet back on its solid metal bottom and contemplated the room. He’d looked through the closets and the desk. I looked at the bookcase. It was not a big bookcase. Four shelves, each with a matched set of books. I squinted at the titles—they appeared to be books on banking and the stock exchange.
“I used to make secret compartments in books,” I said thoughtfully. I went back to the bookcase and pulled out the first book on the top shelf, Bank Audits and Examinations.
“My foster mother showed me how to make them.” I didn’t look at him while I spoke. Looking at him might make him think I thought he cared about anything I had to say. “I still have one of them. You glue the edges of the pages together and cut out the center to make a hollow.”