whole being-late thing? Or the number of texts and calls that had been unanswered as Boone had gone over to the club?
Whatever, it couldn’t possibly be because he was excited to be breathing the same air as Helania and the Brother had picked up on it.
Nah. Boone was super cool. Super chill.
He coughed a little.
“Do you want to take a load off,” Butch said dryly. “Over here with me. On the sofa.”
This was not a suggestion. A hey-wouldja. A how-’bout. It was more do-what-I-say-or-I’ll-break-both-your-legs.
But at least the Brother wasn’t kicking him out. So bonus.
Boone scrambled across the room and threw himself down on the cushions like his ass was putting a brushfire out. He crossed his legs. Uncrossed them. Then played I’m-looking, I’m-not-looking with Helania. He was pretty sure she’d glanced at him when he’d come in, although if she had, she hadn’t stared at him for long.
But what she had done? Smiled at his stupid joke. She had actually laughed a little, too.
In the back of his mind, because he was insane, he decided this meant they were totally compatible and destined to be together forever.
Yup, one lift to her lips and an awkward giggle were totally signs of eternal passion and happiness.
Annnnnnnnd on that note, he had to ease back on his fantasy life.
As she sat in that armchair, wearing normal street clothes, her hair pulled back into a braid, her citrine eyes down on some Baccarat crystal figurines, he had no clue whether she cared he was there. If she had even thought twice about their conversation early that morning. If that smile had been nervousness or actually about him. He couldn’t read her at all.
It was good to remind himself that just because the four minutes they’d had on the phone together had been a game changer for him did not mean that those two hundred and forty seconds had registered in the same way for the other party to the call.
“So the reason we’re here,” Butch said to her in that even tone of his, “is because I’d like you to listen to a previous call into the emergency dispatch number. Will you let me play it for you?”
Helania shifted in the armchair she was sitting in, repositioning the parka in her lap. “All right.”
The Brother pushed a crystal bunny back and put his cell phone face-up by its front paws. A moment later, a voice Boone recognized instantly came out of the speaker.
I—I want to report a death. A murder . . . a killing. At Pyre’s Revyval downtown. It happened the night before last. A female. She—she was found on the lower level by friends. She was taken . . . out of the club by them . . . she was dead . . . Indecipherable sounds. She had been . . . she had been hung by the neck in a storage room and—
Boone’s hand shot out and cut the recording off. “That’s enough.”
As the Brother’s eyes whipped toward him, he shook his head. “She knows what the message said. She doesn’t need to hear it again.”
Over on the armchair, Helania wrapped her arms around herself and squeezed her lids closed, the color in her face draining away until she was pasty white.
Butch took out his spiral notebook. “Was that you?”
Boone had to stop himself from snapping at the Brother. Of course it was her, damn it—and Butch knew that.
“Yes,” she whispered. “It was me.”
As Butch’s phone chimed with a call coming through, the Brother silenced it and made a note for himself. “Can you tell us about what happened that night?”
When Helania did not respond, Butch said, “You’re the only thing we have to go on at this point. In two out of the three deaths down at that club.”
She opened her eyes. “So there were a total of three?”
“Yes. The first was a human, about a year and a half ago. We’re doing what we can to track that down.” Butch’s phone rang again, and he silenced it a second time, slipping the thing into the breast pocket of his sport coat. “I know this is hard, Helania. I know—”
“No,” she said roughly. “You do not know.”
“Then explain it to me.” Butch put his hands together as if he were praying. “Please.”
The quiet that stretched out seemed to last forever. But then Helania opened her mouth—
The knock on the parlor door was loud, a demand.
Butch cursed and got to his feet. “Will you excuse me? I’m going to make