I didn’t stand a chance.
Little by little, the door slid open and Zane’s confident smile grew larger as he outmaneuvered me. I let the door slide backward, nearly smacking him in the face.
“Fine, you win,” I grumbled. “But if you eat my boss, I’m returning you to your owner.”
Zane winked. “Bad doggy, eh? Gonna get out a newspaper and swat me?”
I thwacked him in the arm with my purse. “Behave. This is a museum. None of your hijinks in here.”
He saluted me like a mischievous Boy Scout and moved to step in behind me as I strode through the museum with purpose. “Absolutely no hijinks.” He paused in front of a painting-a popular Jackson Pollock-and made a noise of disgust. “Do people truly consider this art? It looks like garbage.” He stared at the painting, tilting his head to the side and then the other.
I stopped in my tracks and glanced over, amused by his assessment. “Jackson Pollock was renowned for his performance art. You either get it or you don’t.” I didn’t get it either, but I wasn’t about to let him know that. “We need to head to the east wing of the museum.” The east wing housed all the BC artifacts, and luckily was the farthest from Julianna’s office near the gift shop.
He shrugged. “Whatever you say. You’re the boss.” His devilish little grin implied that I was anything but.
“You’d better remember it,” I sassed, and turned my back, hoping he’d take the hint and follow. Zane seemed to have a shorter attention span than most supernaturals, and I was hoping he wouldn’t wander off at the sight of a shiny object.
To my relief, he pulled into step beside me, whistling to himself, his eyes roaming the dark, empty hallways.
“So, have we met before? Because you sure seem familiar to me.” There was something about him that seemed like it was on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t remember. “I don’t suppose you hang out in dark alleys near nightclubs, looking for dorky girls to molest?”
“Huh?” He gave me a vague look.
“Never mind,” I said, waving off my comments with a flick of my fingers. “I was just wondering if you were my vampire master. Forget I asked.” I felt a bit dumb for bringing it up.
The cleaning crew wasn’t due to come in until midnight, so if we could just avoid Julianna, I’d be happy. With luck we’d be out of here before she realized I’d made a pit stop.
“You’re not asking,” Zane said as we walked, looking over at me with a secretive smile, an unlit cigarette hanging from his full lips.
I reached over and plucked it out of his mouth before he could light it. “No smoking in the museum. Now, what is it I should be asking about, Dr. Seuss?”
He grinned and paused in the midst of a series of Roman emperors’ busts on loan from the Smithsonian. I held my breath, thinking for a horrible moment that he was going to reach over and topple one of the priceless objects, and I’d have to explain to the National Museum
My eyes narrowed as my brain absorbed that. He did have a point. I was in the museum after having called in sick for the past few days (which was odd, but not completely strange), accompanied by a dark, mysterious man covered in black leather head to toe (very strange). The security guard should have at least stopped by to say hi or do a bit of random clubbing with a nightstick. So why hadn’t he?
There were a few possibilities, none of them pleasant. One: George the security guard could be dead. A long shot, but since I’d just spent the last two days with fallen angels, vampires, and succubi, I was willing to work murder into the realm of plausibility. Two: George knew we were here and was dialing 911 for backup. Or three: he and Julianna were having mad sex in the control room and were too busy to notice the odd couple in the security cameras. But since George was ninety if he was a day and Julianna had a permanent icicle up her ass, I doubted that very much.
So I shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “I give up. Why don’t you just tell me?”
“You’re no fun.” Zane had another cigarette between his lips and lit it before I could protest. “Come on. I’ll show you.” He stalked ahead of me and turned down a hall.
I trotted after him, making sure that his long, sweeping coat didn’t knock over anything vital. “Where are you going? That’s the wrong way. We’re looking for the Egyptian wing, not the Mayan exhibit.”
He ignored my stressed squawking, heading straight for the men’s room.
I pulled up short as he stepped inside. Well, okay. This threw me for a loop. I didn’t think vampires had bodily functi-
Zane cracked the door back open again and gave me an odd look. “You won’t be able to see anything from out there.”
My jaw dropped. “What exactly do you think I’d want to see in there?”
He rolled his eyes and yanked me into the bathroom with him. “You’re the most paranoid sex fiend I’ve ever met, Princess.”
“I’m not a sex fiend,” I protested, as he turned me to face the mirror over the row of sinks. “I fail to see …” The words died in my throat. “I …” Failed again. “Oh.”
My reflection stared back in the mirror, looking as uncannily sexy as ever. I also saw the wall behind me. And a cigarette dangling in the air.
As in, by itself.
“Er, you’re not in the mirror.” I pointed at where his reflection should have been.
Zane smacked a hand to his forehead. “My word, you’re right.” He shook his head and took a long haul on his cigarette. “It’s a wonder you Suck girls aren’t prized for your brains. That’s some keen wit you’ve got there.”
I slapped the cigarette out of his mouth and ground it under my shoe. “Can we go now? I realize this is all fun and frat-boy games to you, but I’ve got to figure out where your queen’s been hiding her fashion accessories for the past four millennia before she kills my friend.”
I didn’t like being made fun of, and there was something about Zane that always put me on edge. His laughing sexuality? His devil-may-care attitude? Whatever it was, I didn’t trust him one bit. Even worse, I didn’t trust myself around him.
He really did have the most amazing lips.
“She won’t kill him, you know,” Zane called after me. “She’ll use him for a bit to see if she can breed a child off his seed and make a divine vampire. Failing that, she’ll just drain him of his powers.”
“Well, don’t I just feel
Zane didn’t say anything else for a good ten minutes, allowing me time to get my thoughts in order. Somewhat mollified, I shared my theory about Nitocris being an ancient queen of Egypt and he didn’t laugh at me, which was surprising.
The Treasures of the Nile was my favorite collection in the entire museum. It was our most popular wing, so I’d never been assigned to it, since I was the lowest docent on the totem pole. But I had the guided tour memorized in the hopes of one of the more prestigious docents calling in sick and me getting my chance to shine.
A full-blown sarcophagus encased in glass heralded the entrance of the Egyptian wing. The walls were painted with a scene of the banks of the Nile, and a few fluted columns topped with palm leaves added to the feel. The piped-in Eastern music that normally played here was silent, so the only noises were the swish of Zane’s clothing behind me, and the sound of him inhaling on his cigarette.
“So, what are we looking for here?”
“Egyptian stuff. Duh.”
He looked like he wanted to choke me for a moment, and I felt exceedingly proud of managing to get under his skin.
He leaned over a glass case and stared at a line of ushabti figurines. “No, Princess. I meant, what did you hope to find at this particular museum?”
