Michael takes a seat next to me on the bench. Rather brave, considering how awful I smell.
“Actually, I am here because…because…” He slams his fist into his thigh.
What’s wrong with him? “You feeling all right, King Vanderhorst?”
“No. I mean, yes. No! There is something I should tell you. Nothing! Yes! No!”
I skootch away a few inches and stare at his contorted face—tightly puckered lips, crinkled nose, squinty eyes. He looks like he just swallowed a bee. “What are you doing?”
Michael tilts his head back and inhales sharply. “Mother-bleeper! I am not going to tell her!”
Oh. Wonderful. It appears that our king has misplaced his marbles. Just what the vampire nation needs. “Michael, I don’t know what happened to you, but you’re not going to stop me from killing that sadistic frilly mess of a man. So best you just leave me to do my thing while you get the help you need.”
Michael lowers his gaze and meets my eyes. “I assure you, I am perfectly fine. It seems as though my mind is experiencing a minor conflict with my body. Muscle memory is real, apparently.”
How strange. “And what conflict is your muscles having?”
“They want to tell you that Nice is not here at the house any longer.” He slaps his hands over his mouth and mumbles, “Sonoverbeech.”
My jaw drops. I don’t have a clue what’s going on with him, but this is big news. “So where is Nice?”
Suddenly, a projectile whizzes past my ear. Before I can produce a coherent thought, Michael grabs me and throws me over his shoulder. A second later, we’re two blocks away. Another second later, it’s four blocks. Michael keeps going until I’ve lost count.
Finally, he stops and sets me on my feet behind a dry cleaner.
“What was that?” I ask.
“I think the assassin has found us again.”
“Assassin? What assassin? You mean Nice, right?”
He shrugs innocently.
“Wait a sec. You’re not telling me something. I can feel it.” Just now, Michael clearly used the word assassin. “You said ‘the assassin found us again.’”
“Did I? I must have misspoken.” He pastes a fake smile on his beautiful lips.
“Is someone else trying to kill us?” I ask.
“Nope.” He shakes his head of dark hair, and my BS meter shoots up to a level ten. There’s way more he’s not telling me.
As fast as my body allows, I pull a hypodermic needle from my back pocket, pop off the cap, and plunge it into Michael’s arm. It was meant for Nice or Lula, but oh well.
He looks down at the spot where the needle is sticking out. “Ow! What is tha-tha-that…?” His eyes roll into the back of his head, and he falls flat on his back.
“That’s right, Michael. This librarian is done messing around.” I will get to the bottom of whatever he’s hiding.
An hour later, I’ve rented a room in a shady by-the-hour motel and have Michael secured to a chair with chains I’ve coated in Hershey’s chocolate syrup. A trick I learned in Keeper’s boot camp. The chocolate makes the muscles limp so he can’t get free so easily.
With a loud groan, Michael starts coming to.
Showtime. “I’m not afraid to use this, so think carefully before you give those chains a tug.” I hold up my crossbow and point it at a very strategic part of his male anatomy.
He blinks and manages to open his eyes, but I know his head must be pounding right about now.
“What did you inject me with?” he asks, his voice gravelly.
I sit on the edge of the bed, facing him. “The same chocolatey goodness I’ve coated those chains with. Now, would you like to tell me where Nice is really hiding?”
“No,” he mutters.
“Well, too bad, because I’m the one with the crossbow.”
“I know you won’t kill me,” he grumbles, still managing to sound cocky despite being drugged. “I’m the child’s father.”
“You’re absolutely correct. I wouldn’t dream of dusting you, but I would be okay with shooting off your right testicle. I bet that’d hurt.”
“Since when did you become so mean?” He sighs with disappointment. Kind of hypocritical coming from the Executioner.
“Um, let me see? The moment I was kidnapped by Nice when you should’ve been there to protect me? Oh wait. I know. Maybe it was the moment Nice snapped my neck and turned me. If my memory serves, you were also there and didn’t do anything to prevent it.”
“That is unfair.” He blinks at me, like he’s trying to focus. “I did not know Nice would do that to you.”
“No. But you should have. I trusted you, Michael. You—a vampire—told me you would do anything to protect me, and instead I was put through hell, only to become the one thing I never wanted to be.”
“I’m sorry,” he grumbles.
“Yeah, me too. So now, are you going to tell me where Nice is so I can kill him before he kills me first?”
“No.”
“Why not? Oh, I know! You want to wait until he’s dusted me so you can say you’re sorry again. Right?”
“You don’t understand.” He shakes his head, like he’s shaking off a hangover fog that’s stuck inside his skull.
“Then try explaining, because my patience is wearing thin.”
“Nice isn’t trying to kill you.”
“I don’t have any other enemies,” I point out.
“As far as I can tell, Nice has been here in Miami all week. Also, it is not his style to use a bomb. He would not even know the first thing about making one.”
“He could have bought one and paid someone to leave it at my library.”
Michael shakes his head. “You and I both know that if Nice wanted you dead, he would kill you with his own two hands.”
My mind reels. Maybe Michael is telling the truth. “So if Nice wasn’t behind my library explosion, then who?”
“I do not know. I haven’t had time to look into it. My only concern right now is catching Nice.”
“Tell me
