him a visit once you were up. He’s working in his office upstairs. I’d knock first; Jessica was supposed to be spending some”—and here she added air quotes, rolling her eyes again as she did it—“quality time with him.”
“Er, ew, thanks,” I muttered.
“What?” Sara asked, brows arching. “What am I missing here?”
“They’re probably fucking,” Christoph said, placidly enough. Mouse and Ivy simultaneously smacked him on the back of his head, and he cringed, grabbing at his thick, curly hair. “Ow, ow, ow! All right! Enough!”
Sara made a face, then glanced at me. “Aside from the gross-out factor, that’s not as bad an answer as I was expecting. You ready to brave the lion’s den?”
I waved my pizza slice at her. “Let me finish eating. Not that I have much of an appetite after that lovely visual.”
“I know, right?” Ivy grinned at me, and I soon found myself smiling back.
Christoph, Mouse, Clarisse, and Ivy excused themselves with invitations to swing by and say hello after our meeting with Royce. They were planning a movie night in someone’s apartment at the end of the hall on the second floor; we promised to join them as soon as we were done.
“This place isn’t so bad,” Sara remarked once they were gone, reaching for a slice of pizza for herself. The dogs, braver now that the vampires had left, edged close to the table in hopes of being fed some scraps. Sara and I obliged them by tossing them bits of pepperoni and sausage that they eagerly snapped up. “I thought it was going to be all creepy and full of cobwebs or something. Nothing like this.”
I shrugged, swallowing the food in my mouth before replying. “Don’t be too surprised. Royce isn’t Dracula. He’s got better taste.”
She coughed on her pizza, then gave me a weak grin. We finished the rest of our food in companionable silence, then headed up to Royce’s room on the third floor.
I knocked and waited for an answer, ready to run back down the stairs if necessary to avoid any confrontation with Jessica. The idea of being in her presence after what Christoph had said downstairs and her little display with Royce during the day was a bit too much for me just then.
“Come in,” Royce called, his voice echoing across the expanse of what I was coming to think of as the Statue Room.
We went together, and this time the windows were open, allowing a cool breeze to waft through the room, stirring the gauzy white curtains. The spotlights had been dimmed, casting barely any illumination, giving the place a creepy vibe it hadn’t had during the day.
“I’m in the office. Come on back.”
Shivering, Sara and I looked at each other, exchanging glances before pressing onward to the black pit of the office. The only light to be seen was a bank of computer screens displaying the logo for A.D. Royce Industries.
Royce was hidden in the shadows, seated before a computer at the far end of the room. He glanced at us over his shoulder, an indistinct form in the dark gesturing for us to come closer.
“Both of you take a seat. I’ve got something to show you.”
We complied, though I had no clue what this was about. He tilted the nearest screen so we both could see, and played a video from a news Web site, the anchor’s face grim as she relayed her story.
“A terrible tragedy rocked Manhattan today when the body of award-winning journalist Jim Pradiz was discovered by police officers following an anonymous tip. According to sources, he was found in his home, dead of multiple animal bites and stab wounds. Involvement of Other-citizens is certain, though it was not immediately clear if Mr. Pradiz had been contracted at the time of his death. Though Detective Bobby McNeill, who is leading the investigation, stated it is too early to speculate and that no autopsy has yet been completed, he did admit that there is strong evidence of a connection between this tragedy and the investigative work done by Pradiz on local werewolf packs just prior to his death.
“Mr. Pradiz was best known for his Pulitzer Prize-winning editorial piece covering the introduction of the Others to our society in the wake of 9/11—”
Royce stopped the video and turned to face us, folding his hands in his lap. I dragged my eyes off the screen to face him, making a conscious effort to draw my hand away from my mouth and put it back in my