side down the sidewalk. His body language was clear—we were working together. Nothing more, nothing less, at least until we had a good talk.
But now was not the time for that talk.
We walked inside Navarre House and found the front desk empty. The three lovely brunettes who usually greeted visitors to the House were gone.
We walked into the House proper, and the mood was dark—grief stricken and silent. Every vampire House had a style. Grey House was an urban loft. Cadogan House had a European flair. Navarre House was sleek and modern. Although the exterior of the building looked more like a princess’s castle than a vampire enclave, the interior looked like an art gallery. The walls and floor were gleaming marble, with occasional pops of art and furniture.
The first floor was full of vampires, but they’d clustered behind an invisible line, leaving a gap between themselves and the Masters, Morgan Greer and Scott Grey. Both were dark haired. Scott looked like a former college athlete—broad shoulders, small waist, and a dark soul patch below his lips. Morgan looked like a male model. His dark, wavy hair now reached his shoulders, but across his handsome face—strong cheekbones, cleft chin, dark blue eyes—was a mask of grief.
We hadn’t exactly had the best working relationship, but this wasn’t the time to dwell on our petty disagreements. He was suffering, and we’d do what we could to help. Besides, the last time I’d talked to Morgan, he’d saved my life. Being here was really the least we could do.
Jonah stood slightly apart from them. He and Scott both wore blue-and-yellow Grey House jerseys, which Scott had selected, in lieu of medals, to identify his House’s vampires. A blond man I didn’t know, but assumed was the Navarre House guard captain, stood with the group.
Ethan nodded, barely sparing Jonah a glance. “Our condolences for your loss.”
Jonah looked at me curiously, and I found I couldn’t make eye contact. My stomach felt suddenly raw. I was fighting with my boyfriend about my new partner—and my new partner was standing in front of us.
“What happened?” Ethan asked.
Morgan moved to the side, revealing the covered bodies of their fallen colleagues beside the stairs, a pool of blood beside them. They’d placed a blanket atop the bodies, giving them decency the killer hadn’t bothered to show.
“Two of my vampires have been murdered,” Morgan said. “The first is Katya. She’s the sister of my Second.”
My lips parted. Morgan’s Second was a woman named Nadia, who was beautiful in an effortless, European way. I didn’t know Katya, but I’d met Nadia briefly before.
“I’m so sorry,” I said.
Morgan nodded. “The second is Zoey, a member of our administrative staff. They were friends.”
“What happened?” Ethan asked.
“We found them at dusk. Will, our guard captain, found them.” Morgan gestured toward the curly-haired blond beside him.
“May we?” Ethan asked, motioning toward the bodies.
Will nodded grimly, then took a knee and drew back the blanket. I didn’t recognize the vampires, but then, I hadn’t had much interaction with Navarre House other than Morgan and, once upon a time, Celina.
Katya was curvier than Nadia, with long, dark hair and angelic features. She wore what looked like sleepwear—a short satin nightgown of pale pink, and fuzzy white slippers. Zoey also wore pajamas—a tank and cotton pants. Her skin was dark and her hair was darker, cropped close to her head in tight curls.
Like he’d done with Oliver and Eve, the killer had separated the girls’ heads from their bodies with the same long cut, and they were holding hands, their fingers stained with blood.
“Thank you,” Ethan said, and Will covered them again. But covering the women didn’t prevent the visage of their deaths from searing into my mind. Perhaps I was becoming desensitized, as it was less the blood and violence that affected me than the slippers on Katya’s feet. They were soft and young and somehow pitiable, and made their deaths that much more offensive.
“Had they behaved unusually last night? Or perhaps disappeared for any time?” Ethan asked Will.
“They were hanging out together,” Will said. “They spent the evening with friends at Red”—that was the official Navarre House bar—“and then returned here. They shared a room. No one noticed anything amiss until they were found this morning.”
“What about the room?” I quietly asked, and eyes turned to me. “I mean, they’re in pajamas. Either they were taken from the room, or they left it to come out here for some reason.”
Will nodded just a bit, as