flipping through the hefty stack of letters and fliers. The junk mail we could obviously discard, but the letters and bills were worth a look-over.
Camille held up one envelope. “She has a pretty thick credit card bill.”
“Open it—that will give us an idea of her shopping habits and might lead to answering where she hangs out.” I stopped at another envelope. It was from an online dating site—Supernatural Matchups. “I thought she had a boyfriend?”
Camille glanced over at the return address. “So what? I have three husbands. You’re engaged to a half dragon and you also have the hots for an Elemental Lord. Menolly’s married to a werepuma and she’s also the consort of a vampire lord. Get my drift?”
“Yeah,” I said slowly. “Violet is Fae. She’s not likely to be monogamous, like you told Tad.” I sliced open the envelope, using my pocket knife. A Spyderco Endura, my new blade was a handy affair, well-made. With a black nylon handle reinforced with fiberglass, and a lip that made it as easy to open as a switchblade, it had become my go-to knife for a dozen small jobs.
The envelope open, I slid out the paper inside. It was a listing of several matchups, but with no names. Instead, it gave a list of numbers, as well as links to the online videos for her to look at, along with information on the potential hotties just waiting to fulfill her life. The letter also included her user name, but no password.
I showed it to Camille and she gave me a long look. “Well, you’re good with computers, and if you need backup, you can always call Tim. I say you go online, hack her password, and log in as her. Any one of these guys . . . or women, I suppose, might have found out her private information and been stalking her.”
“Me, hack her info? No can do, but I’ll bet Tim can.” Wading through a bunch of lonely heart Supes sounded like
“Because, my love, you
With that, we set aside the rest of the letters as Shade returned to the car and we headed for home.
It was almost time to leave for Otherworld, where war was looming, and where Chase was about to be outed for sleeping with the Queen’s niece, where Sharah was about to confront her aunt and perhaps be disowned forever, and where we hoped to hear any sort of good news on the demon front.
Chapter 9
By the time we reached home, we were ready for hot showers. But first, we gave the evidence we’d gathered to Vanzir and asked him to check with Carter on it, to see if they could figure out anything.
Camille took off to her room, looking for a bubble bath. Shade and I trudged upstairs to wash up and change clothes. Menolly wasn’t awake yet, so we put off talking about the Wayfarer till we were refreshed.
By the time we came out of the shower, I felt halfway human again. The hot water had helped, but so had standing there after, aiming my blow dryer at various points on my body till the chill began to dissipate.
For Otherworld, I usually dressed in clothing that I’d brought from home, but now I stared at my closet, and for the first time since we’d come over I didn’t feel like returning home dressed in a tunic and trousers.
I fastened my gingham pink bra and slipped into my Hello Kitty panties, then decided on a pair of formfitting low-rise jeans in dark blue, a gray thermal long-sleeved shirt, and my Pikolinos Brujas in chocolate.
The boots were knee-high, a Euro style that looked like a cross between motorcycle and cowboy boots. The straps and buckles were ornamental, but I loved them and they were so comfortable that lately they’d become my go-to boot. With the lower heel, I could maneuver through the woods as easily as I could stride down the street.
Shade pulled on his brown cargo pants, a black turtleneck, and then his cowboy boots. He watched as I dressed, a barely concealed grin on his face.
“Sometime I’m buying you new lingerie,” he said. “Maybe Powerpuff Girls instead of Hello Kitty? A step up, perhaps?”
I grinned back. “I think they’re a little outdated. But Hello Kitty never goes out of style. At least with me.” I pulled my shirt over my head, tucked it into my pants, and tugged on my boots. “Ready to go. Oh—hold on.” I grabbed an espresso leather belt and fed it through the jean loops, then buckled it. “Okay, now I’m ready.”
After a quick kiss, we headed downstairs, and by the time we neared the first floor, I could smell dinner. Bless Hanna’s heart.
The kitchen was bustling, as it was almost every meal. Hanna had cooked up a big batch of fried chicken and mashed potatoes. Along with a salad, biscuits, and gravy, the food was spread along the counter buffet style. I grabbed a plate and loaded up, then slid into a chair next to Camille, who was busy working on a thigh and drumstick. She wasn’t wearing clothes from home either, but instead a black satin skirt, a plum-colored corset, and a pair of stiletto patent leather Mary Janes.
We waited till everyone was seated, at which point Menolly appeared, awake for the night. She, too, was dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt. Her boots, though, were stilettos. It seemed we were all on the same page.
I motioned for Menolly to sit down at the table, for once, instead of taking her usual place up in the corner of the kitchen. She liked to hang out near the ceiling, floating, where she was out of the way of the hustle.
“We have to talk about the Wayfarer.” I gave her a long look, wondering just how to tell her that her bar was pretty much gutted. And that eight, not seven, people had died.
She held my gaze, those frosty eyes of hers turning grayer every day. Vamps’ eyes did that after they were turned. No matter what color before death, they eventually turned pale and silvery. The stronger the sire, the faster the color change. And first with Dredge, and then when Roman had re-sired her, she had some of the strongest vampire blood in her system.
“I guess you’d better just blurt it out and get it over with.” She braced herself as she leaned forward. I could tell she was desperate for good news, and it tore me up that I couldn’t give it to her.
Camille reached over and took one of her hands. “It’s not good.”
I hung my head. “The Wayfarer . . . close to eighty percent destroyed. Eight people died, total. It looks like a burning candle ignited the curtains, in a locked room. We need to find out who had the keys to the rooms upstairs, and if we can account for all of them, then we have to figure it was somebody who picked the locks.”
Menolly let out a little sound, and Camille grimaced. Vampires had incredible strength and the fact that she was holding on to Camille’s hand meant she was probably squeezing pretty damned hard.
Trying to figure out a way to make things better, to shed some sort of hope on the issue, I reached out and took her other hand. “Derrick and the others were down there early this morning. They care about the Wayfarer. They care about you. They were down there to salvage what they could from the rubble.”
Shade leaned forward. “And if you need money for rebuilding, well, I’m here.” He glanced at Smoky, who inclined his head. “And Smoky. We are dragons, we have great resources.”
Menolly’s lips were pressed together, and she blinked furiously, trying not to cry. After a moment, she let out a soft murmur, then asked, “Do you have a list of the dead?”
I shook my head. “Chase will bring one tonight—if he has it ready. Also, it will take some doing to figure out if any vampires died in the fire. I imagine you and Roman will have to wait until anybody who frequents the bar comes up missing. There wouldn’t be any remains left to tell, not with . . .”
“Not with vampires because fire burns to a crisp. You’re right, of course.” She looked at me, then over at Camille. “I don’t know quite what to say. I’m . . .”
I started to say,
