“Oliver?”
“Yes?” He looked back over his shoulder, thinking she would thank him yet again and preparing to dazzle her with a humble yet charming bow.
“There’s something you should know about Gus.”
He frowned. “What is it?”
“He’s a vampire.”
She almost summoned enough energy to laugh at his reaction.
“A vamp—” Another knock sounded on the outer door, but he ignored it. “He’s a what?”
“Get the door.” She scooted the stool over to the bathtub and turned off the faucets. The water was delightfully warm, and for the moment, her only desire in life was to crawl inside the tub for an extended soak.
A knock sounded again, firmly, and she pointed.
“How do you know he’s a vampire? Emme, he’s far from handsome, he’s . . . he’s nondescript!”
“Vampires do not have an aura. I attempted to read Gus when he pulled alongside in his wagon. Besides, vampirism merely enhances the individual’s best physical potential. That still leaves considerable room for variety.”
He blinked. “How do you know he is safe?”
“I can still discern his feelings, his emotions. That man is as sincere as anyone I’ve ever met.”
He opened his mouth, closed it, and repeated the process. By now the knocking had become insistent.
Emme shoved herself upright and hopped over to him. She nudged him out of the bathing room and shut the door behind him. She hopped back to the copper tub and began pulling off her torn, dirt-smudged clothing, deciding she couldn’t wait for the maid’s help.
She clumsily maneuvered her way into the hot bath while keeping the cast out of the water. Her sigh echoed around the small room, and she nearly cried from the relief of dunking herself completely. Steam rose from the water, and she exhaled wearily, resting her head against the back of the tub and closing her eyes.
She heard Oliver’s voice in the other room, thanking someone for the delivery of her rolling chair and crutches, and then the outer door closed. She heard him continue to speak, making calls to Giancarlo, her mother, and possibly their friends. The floor creaked as he paced the room, undoubtedly wanting to solve every problem facing them.
She made use of the soaps lined on a small shelf next to the tub, scrubbing her hair and deciding Oliver’s mother had been a wise woman, indeed. Freshly washed and rinsed, she felt armed to at least make a showing to the world, if not take it entirely by storm. She wrapped her hair in a towel and donned the robe Oliver had spied earlier.
She secured the robe as a knock sounded at the outer door, and she hobbled out of the bathing room. Oliver glanced at her as he opened the door, then back again, taking in the casual state of her attire. The robe covered her from neck to floor, but it was intimate wear. What had he expected her to do? Her options were limited, and if she didn’t speak to an employee soon who could shop for her, she’d be obliged to wear the robe all over town.
“One moment,” Oliver said and quickly closed the door. He frowned and approached her, but seemed unsure about gathering her up to carry her somewhere. He scratched his head as though considering the best way to move a bale of hay.
“For pity’s sake,” she muttered and hobbled across the room to the sofa.
He helped her sit on the couch and put her feet up, and then looked around, found a blanket, and covered her lap. To her amazement, he flushed. After the indelicate situation they’d been in for hours, he’d suddenly developed a bashful side?
“Oliver, open the door.” She sounded cross, even to her own ears.
He obeyed, issuing apologies to Gus and the maid, who stood on the other side.
Emme made quick work of giving the young woman instructions for the clothing she required for the rest of the day and evening. The maid, Josephine, made notes on a piece of paper as Emme dictated. When she began giving her quantity and quality instructions for unmentionables, Oliver and Gus suddenly struck up a conversation about the weather.
“I’ll choose carefully, miss, and I’ll return straightaway. I know just the shops that carry everything you need.” Josephine smiled brightly. “I’ll give them this card and tell the sales clerks to send the bill here to you, yes? Oh, and if you’ve nobody else to help, I can style your hair.”
Emme nodded, finally feeling back in control, and Oliver saw the young woman to the door. Gus remained with her near the hearth, and she turned to him. “Now, I hope you are willing to share your story with me. And you,” she added as Oliver sat with them, “what do you know of your brother’s activities?”
Oliver sighed. “Not much, other than being certain he’s up to no good. Gus has a much better grasp of the situation. It’s time I took my head out of the sand.”
Gus looked at Oliver with sympathy, which reinforced Emme’s prior assessment of their new acquaintance. “It is easy to don blinders where family is concerned. The most crucial information for you to know at this point is Lawrence Reed and the vampire Cadre, which he leads, are determined to prevent wide-scale acceptance of shifter reform.”
“I can guess the reason,” Emme said. “Lucy Blake is a botanist who has studied Assimilation Aid at length. She mentioned new theories of Soul Consistency concerning the vampire community.”
Gus nodded. “Not merely theories—scientific studies published in recent journals. Proof of long-term, nonthreatening vampire populations has come to light. Accordingly, the Cadre’s stranglehold on non-predatory vampires will soon lose its effectiveness.”
Oliver whistled softly and sat back in his chair. “Of course.”
Gus smiled wryly. “As law enforcement, you see the problem.”
Emme frowned. “I do not follow.”
“The Cadre oversees and benefits from extortion money, black-market Vampiric Assimilation Aids, and a host of other things you’ve likely never heard of. When the world accepts the reality that good, law-abiding vampires exist, Lawrence’s tower will crumble.”
The room
