would not be enough.

CHAPTER 15

“How long do we have to wait?”

Kristoff glanced at his watch before answering Magda. “They should be here any minute.”

“You’re sure they wanted to meet us here?” I asked, glancing around us. All four of us were sitting together at an outdoor café table shaded by gently swaying palm trees and exotic shrubs, surrounded on three sides by very upscale shops that hadn’t yet opened.

Across the street, an innocuous building was the focus of our collective attention. It looked like the offices of some financial bigwig, with tall, tinted windows, a lot of chrome, and pale cream stone siding. On the door was a discreet sign that bore the name of the organization, along with the symbol of a crescent moon. Nothing about the building gave hint to the fact that inside it was the brains of a group that had done its best to systematically torture and murder vampires over the last five hundred years.

I shivered despite the midmorning heat.

“I’m sure.” Kristoff’s eyes never rested; they were constantly scanning the early-morning latte crowd as they strolled out of the café, window-shopping before eventually moving off to their respective destinations. The chatter of birds mingled with the low-level hum of conversation from various business types as they picked up their morning coffee, had a pastry, yakked with their Pilates partners, or any of the million other things people with ample free time and money did on a bright, sunny Wednesday morning.

You don’t think we’re too close to the building? I asked, a smidgen nervous. What if some of the Brotherhood people get their coffee here?

Andreas and Rowan would not have asked us to meet here if there were any danger. To be honest, I doubt if the director is allowing anyone entrance to the building.

I glanced over at it again. Although the building appeared perfectly normal, I had to admit there was an air of expectation, of subdued excitement in the air that I didn’t wholly ascribe to our little group.

“I wish I’d had time to get a gun. Everyone has guns in LA. Even the paperboys are armed,” Raymond muttered.

“Don’t pout, pookums. You got a Taser. That should work if someone tries to attack us.”

I looked in surprise at Raymond. “You bought a Taser?”

He nodded, flipping open his jacket to show the inner pocket. A small black unit protruded an inch above the pocket. “And it’s all juiced up, ready to go. It may not kill anyone, but it sure will stun the shit out of them.”

“Nice,” I said, doubtfully. “Er . . . we probably won’t need it. I think three vampires and the three of us ought to be enough to take on the whole office.”

“It can’t hurt,” Raymond pointed out.

“That’s right. Besides, Kristoff is armed, isn’t he?” Magda asked him.

“Kristoff has a knife,” I said, giving in to the blush that followed the memory of me assisting him in the donning of his ankle sheath. A few hours earlier I had finally convinced him it was my turn to give him some attention. A little self-satisfied smile crept over my lips as I remembered his statement afterward that I had not only knocked his socks off; I’d lit his feet on fire, too.

“So we wait.” Magda drummed her fingers on the table, watching absently as Ray double-checked his camera. “Wish I had something to read. I think I’ll go see if they have any newspapers inside. Come with me, boopsie?”

“Certainly,” Raymond said, magnanimously tucking away his electronic toy and following Magda as she reentered the café.

“That’s what I forgot to ask you,” I said, diving for my purse as Magda’s words prodded my memory. “You can translate this for me.”

Kristoff’s eyebrows rose as I pulled out Alec’s reaper notebook. Before I could offer it to him, he snatched it from my hands. “Where did you get that?”

I explained briefly how we’d found it. “But it’s OK; you don’t have to worry that Alec will be pissed because we swiped it-he knows I have it.”

His eyebrows rose even higher. “He does?”

“Yes. In fact, he told me I’d find it interesting reading, and suggested that I have you translate it for me.” I scooted my chair closer to him and opened the notebook up to the first page, pointing to the words I recognized. “It mentions you.”

He froze for a moment, his muscles tense and tight, as if he were going to pounce on it.

I glanced at him in surprise. “You don’t have to read it if you feel weird about reading your friend’s thoughts about you. At least, I assume that’s what he’s talking about in here. Did he meet you when you guys were both chasing reapers?”

“Yes,” he said, but it was an afterthought. He stared down at the journal with a wooden expression for a moment; then slowly that melted into abstracted horror.

“What’s it say?” I asked, peering over his arm at the text. “I don’t read Latin. Is it something gruesome?”

Emotions swamped me, thick and hot, a sudden explosion that told me he’d been trying to keep them under control, anger chasing fear, followed by a deep, dark fury that had his fingers clenching around the book.

“Kristoff? What’s the matter?” I asked, my skin crawling as the horrible emotions roiled around inside him. “Dear God, what does it say?”

“He was there,” he managed to say, his accent more pronounced.

“Who was where? Alec? Where was he?”

He slammed closed the journal, unmindful of its age and delicate state. I flinched as his knuckles turned white, trying to make sense of the emotions that burst from him like lava, burning and searing everything in their path as they spilled out. “He was there at the beginning. At my beginning.”

“At your birth? Is he an old friend of your family?” I asked, remembering that he had said Alec was something around eighty years older than Kristoff.

“No.” His jaw worked for a few seconds.

“Then what . . . ?”

His eyes met mine, and I had to keep myself from flinching, so deadly were they. They were pale as an iceberg against snow, and the depth of the fury in them stripped the breath from my lungs. “He was there at my rebirth.”

“Oh.” Enlightenment dawned. “He was there when the vampire had you turned into one, too? He must have known him, then.”

“He knew him.” Kristoff’s face twisted into an agonized sneer for a moment. “He knew him because he was him. Alec is the one who turned me, Pia. My old friend.”

The last word was spit out with a venom that left me staring in horror. “Alec? You can’t be serious-”

He leaped to his feet, snarling under his breath as he glared at the journal for a moment before shoving it at me. “Put that damned thing away.”

Hurriedly, I shoved it in my purse, following him as he stalked off, heedless of the sunlight and what it would do to him if it caught him full in the face. “Kristoff, wait a minute! What about Magda and Raymond? Boo!”

He didn’t stop; he just ran across the road, almost getting himself run down in the process. I waved an apology at the irate driver who was cursing him out as I dashed after him, confused, worried, and very, very angry at Alec.

That bastard had known what he was doing when he told me to have Kristoff translate the journal. He had to know what effect it would have. I made a few mental promises about introducing Alec to the wrath of a pissed-off Beloved as I followed Kristoff into a small, square building that sat behind the Brotherhood headquarters.

It was evidently some sort of a warehouse for paper products, huge pallets of plastic-wrapped bales of paper peppered around the nearly empty building. I trotted after Kristoff, whose long legs were making mincemeat of the

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