Because goddamn Paperless Post had worked just fine for the invites, Marquist, you tool.
But yes, Boone was truly grateful for all the kind words and show of love from everyone involved with the training program. It was just . . . when he’d been on the phone with Helania, he hadn’t felt like he’d had to translate anything about where he was. She’d just seemed to be there with him. And he needed that kind of intuitive connection right now because there was so much he didn’t understand about where he was at.
When it came to Altamere, this sad, hollow feeling he got whenever he thought about his sire was nothing he could properly frame—and maybe Helania could shed some light on it. Even if she’d been close to her sister, perhaps she had a few discordant sectors in her own grief, too. They could talk about it. Over coffee. Over the phone. Over emails, letters . . . smoke signals or homing pigeons.
He didn’t care.
And if she didn’t want to have anything further to do with him? Well, in that case, he would just hang in the shadows and make sure she didn’t get killed.
Ah . . . the romance.
As he came up to the head of the wait line, he prepared to break into the bouncer’s brain so he didn’t have to break into the club, but messing with the human’s neurons turned out not to be necessary.
“Hey, you’re back.” The man opened things wide. “Go right in.” You’ve got to love mind control, Boone thought. Especially when it sticks.
Striding through the coat check area, he entered the club proper and scanned the crowd. As he was looking for Helania, he filtered out the men, skipped over the human women, and tried to zero in on anything vampire.
So many bodies. So many scents: The club’s vast open area, coupled with the darkness, the colognes, the costumes, and the masks, was going to make things harder than he’d thought . . .
It was difficult to say when exactly his instincts pricked with recognition, and given the overwhelming visual and olfactory stimuli, it was impossible to isolate exactly who had gotten his attention. Not Helania, no.
But someone here was sparking a reaction in him.
Boone gave his eyes free rein to go wherever they wanted. And as he was trying to pinpoint whoever it was who had hit his radar, his phone went off in his chest pocket. The first round of vibrating he ignored as he pressed forward through the tightly packed bodies. When the thing went still and then immediately started shimmying again, he cursed and took the Samsung out.
Butch was calling. Shit.
“Hello?” Boone said.
The Brother was short and to the point.
So was Boone: “Fuck.”
* * *
Helania materialized on the sidewalk in front of a lovely antique house. The neighborhood was fancy, the other sprawling homes likewise set far back from the narrow road, the rolling snow-covered lawns marked with big trees that were no doubt magnificent in the warmer months.
Jeez, the garages around here were bigger than anything she had ever lived in.
As she squared off at the walkway that led to a fancy, imposing entrance, she missed her cloak. One advantage to going to Pyre was that she could shelter herself under all those black folds. Now, in street clothes of jeans, a sweater, and a parka, she felt exposed.
The broad, glossy black door opened and she jumped back.
“Come on in,” the Brother Butch called out in his Boston accent. “It’s wicked cold tonight.”
The male was dressed in a deep blue sport coat and an open-collared pink shirt, his slacks sporting some kind of subtle pattern. He looked like the owner of the house instead of a warrior for the species, but she wasn’t fooled. She had stared into those eyes of his.
Beneath the wardrobe of a gentlemale, he had the soul of vengeance and not just a little street in him.
Burrowing into her puffy jacket, she came up the cleared path. Even though things had been shoveled and salted, she focused on precisely where she put her running shoes, sure as if she were on uneven ground.
It was easier than meeting the eyes of the male who waited for her.
The steps of the mansion creaked as she mounted them, and then she was inside and standing in a lovely foyer, the glow of the lights, the warmth of the interior, the scents of fresh baked goods a homey embrace.