five minutes of when it hits the sink. He does the laundry daily, and he even irons my work shirts. Irons them, Shamble! I feel like a princess. He says it’s only right to help me out, for everything I’ve done for him.”
I nudged up the speed of the treadmill. “Sounds like criminal activity for sure. Should I have McGoo arrest him?”
“Not complaining, Chambeaux, and not ungrateful either, although maybe I should send him to work as an intern in your offices for a week, just to get even.”
I chuckled, hoping she wasn’t serious. “Golems are created to serve. They do whatever work they’re told to do, and they take instruction well. If you don’t want Bill to be such a busybody, then just tell him so.” I looked down at the treadmill; I had gone an eighth of a mile already. Tiffany had just done five miles—at a full run. “In fact, give him some lite recipes, or have him watch healthy cooking shows. He can prepare meals that won’t make you gain weight.”
With a frown, Tiffany wiped sweat from her face. “Then they wouldn’t taste so good. You should try some of the meals, Chambeaux. That golem’s a gourmet cook—blood sausage, blood sauces with fresh-killed meat and fowl dishes . . . even blood oranges, though I told him that’s just a variety name. I’ll have you over for dinner sometime.”
“The good food would be wasted on me. You could just tell Bill not to cook for you at all.”
“No, I’m willing to put in a few extra hours at the gym to burn off the calories. It’s worth it. Seriously, I’m more concerned because I think Bill’s bored. He’s used to working all the time, but I don’t have enough for a full-time assistant, butler, and chef to do. He’s not my slave.”
“Maybe you should have let him take that security guard job,” I suggested.
“I’ve got him applying for other positions as a night watchman. I gave him a glowing letter of recommendation, so let’s hope he gets hired. Those other hundred golems flooded the job market.”
She grabbed a towel, wiped her forehead, rubbed her armpits, and draped the towel around her neck before she headed toward the weight stations. I looked down: The treadmill said I had gone a quarter of a mile now. Making progress.
On the television, a news broadcast caught my attention—and my heart turned into a deader weight in my chest. Senator Rupert Balfour had summoned the media for a press conference. At the podium, as he lifted his long chin and began his important (to him at least) announcement, the other unnaturals in the fitness center stopped working out. Many booed or howled at the hated man.
“Ladies and gentlemen, humans all—I bring before you a tragic example of the evil to be found in the Unnatural Quarter, a clear indication of the danger these supernatural creatures pose to fine, normal people. You’ll see why my Unnatural Acts Act is desperately needed to stop the depraved activities that tempt our good citizens.”
I wondered what the senator was talking about now. Maybe too much caffeine in Transfusion’s espresso? He had already done his best to shut down the adult novelty shop.
“Listen to the heartbreaking story of a poor injured man who has suffered abominably from the vile acts of these unnaturals. He nearly died from what they did to him, and he’s here to tell you about his pain and suffering.”
So, Balfour had found another patsy after McGoo had refused to cooperate with the senator in digging up dirt on the Unnatural Quarter. I stared at the screen in disbelief as Sheyenne’s brother Travis stepped up to the podium. He appeared weak and forlorn, his eyes shadowed (it looked like makeup to me), and he spoke in a quavering voice. “An evil succubus nearly killed me. I survived only through the purest luck, and I’ve just now recovered enough to tell you the truth about what goes on there.”
“Luck?” I yelled at the unresponsive TV. “We got you out of there! And it was a restorative spell that snapped you out of your coma.”
Travis told a grossly embellished tale of the chamber of horrors that was the Full Moon brothel. He described vampire women luring naïve and innocent victims, like himself, into their sexual web, then he painted a ludicrous picture of the ferocious and demonic succubus who had nearly stolen his life force.