“So thanks for coming.” The Brother indicated over his shoulder. “I thought we could talk in this sitting room back here. Or whatever they call it. Can I get you anything to eat or drink? Coffee? We’ve got fresh danish—the cherry ones will reaffirm your belief in God, I swear.”
Anxiety tickled the back of Helania’s neck and tightened the center of her chest. “I ate before I came. But thank you.”
It was a lie, and for a split second, she glanced at the Brother, thinking maybe he had second sight and was going to know she’d fibbed about the food. But there was no eating or drinking for her at the moment. Her stomach was churning like a cement mixer, all kinds of proverbial stones and gravel going round and round and round in her midsection.
On that note, she shrugged out of her puffy parka before no-thankyou on the danish turned into I’m-going-to-be-sick-all-over-thisnice-rug.
“Okay, let me know if you change your mind.”
The Brother led the way past what appeared to be a waiting room on one side and something bigger with closed panel doors on the other.
“So this is the Audience House,” she murmured.
“Sure is. I figured you’d feel safe here.”
On the far side of the closed doors, she could hear deep male voices, and she had to wonder if they were from other members of the Black Dagger Brotherhood. The idea that she was under the same roof as even one of the great males made her awestruck. Growing up, there had been tales in the species about the famous warriors who protected the vampire race and the King, but no one she knew had ever met any of them.
Butch was right. She did feel safe here and that did matter.
“Here we are.”
The Brother indicated the way into a room that was like a museum, a massive oil painting of some kind of aristocrat hanging on the opposite wall, the furniture old and beautiful, the fireplace made of spectacularly veined marble. She was not surprised at the wealth. Ever since Wrath, son of Wrath, sire of Wrath, had started seeing civilians and sorting out their problems, stories of this home’s grandeur had filtered through the civilian population.
Where else would the King spend his time?
“Would you like to sit here?” the Brother said as he pointed to a silk-covered chair.
Helania eyed the banked fire that was throwing off not just cheery crackles and shifting light but heat. So much heat. Which was not great for an uneasy stomach.
She brushed a hand across her damp forehead. “May I sit a little farther back from the hearth?”
“Of course.”
As she parked it in an armchair angled in at the far end of the sofa, a cool draft wafted over her and it was perfect. “Thank you.”
As Butch settled onto the sofa, she surreptitiously checked out how many ways she could get out of the room. There was a pair of closed panels over there . . . the door they’d come in across the way . . . and two French sets behind her, which were her best bet for dematerialization—or, in a pinch, some good old-fashioned Hollywood stuntwoman stuff.
After Isobel’s violent killing, she had gotten used to looking for escapes.
“So I’m just going to close this door so we’re not disturbed.” The Brother shut them in together. “And I want you to be aware that there are cameras here . . . here . . . and over there. So we’re recording everything—not because I think you’re guilty of any wrongdoing, but just because it’s part of the security system of this house.”
Where is Boone, she wondered.
Although, considering the reason she was here to speak with the Brother, it seemed ridiculous to worry about anyone else. Yet she had spent a lot of time thinking about that other male. What his voice sounded like in her ear. What he had looked like the night before.
Whether she would see him again.
She couldn’t believe she had all but hung up on the guy. It had been incredibly rude, but she’d gotten flustered. She hadn’t spoken of her sister’s death since it happened because she didn’t have anyone to speak of it to. Her emotions had gotten the best of her, the top popped off a maelstrom of feelings.
None of which were pleasant.
“So are you okay speaking to me on camera?” the Brother prompted.
“Oh, sorry. Yes, I am.” She cleared her throat. “Did you find out something?”