"Why didn't you say anything?" Rhia cleared her throat and turned around to stare at her. I had to keep my eyes on the road, but I peeked in the rearview mirror. Peyton didn't look all that happy. I pressed my lips together, waiting. Anadey had tried to kill me. I didn't have much empathy for the woman.
"She apologized. She was in tears. I told her to fuck off. She begged me to call her when I've had a chance to cool down." Her throat sounded clogged, and I could hear the tears close to the surface, though Peyton prided herself on being the stoic type.
"Cool down? After what she did to me? What she tried to do to your father?" I shook my head. "That's a lot to push to the side."
Peyton glanced at me through the mirror, giving me a sharp nod. "That's what I told her."
We were outside Rex's apartment building, and the Cambyra guards were there on the street, waiting next to Grieve and Chatter. It seemed odd to see them in the middle of the town, on the sidewalk, during the day. They had changed their outfits to mirror more of a military getup—cargo pants, button-down shirts…but there was no mistaking them for the magic-born or for yummanii.
We tumbled out of the car. Silently, Peyton led us to the entrance, where she punched the intercom button, spoke to Rex, and opened the door when the buzzer sounded. Half of the guards followed us in.
Rex lived on the sixth floor and so we took the elevator, while three of the guards took the stairs, scoping them out. I wondered if this was how it was always going to be—always being on the lookout for enemies. When—if—we defeated Myst, would there be another force on the horizon looking to take over?
The building was relatively new, and nice. The walls were a muted sage green, with white ceilings and soft hunter green carpets. Rex must have been watching out the peephole, because as we stopped en masse in front of his door, it swung open, and a sturdy, tall man with a ponytail that reached his butt and a grizzled scruff of a beard stood back to let us in.
"Baby girl!" Rex propped his crutches against the wall, opened his arms and Peyton fell into them, hugging him tightly.
"Daddy." She smiled up at him—it had been only a couple of weeks since he had returned to her life. They had a lot of making up for lost time to do.
"You know where the remote is, Peyton." He gestured to the living room. "Let me get the food. Luna, would you help me?" He nodded for her to follow him into the kitchen. Luna's relationship with her family was more distant than strained; Rex seemed to sense her need to be included.
The apartment was still relatively unadorned. Rex had just moved in, and he had arrived with only a couple of suitcases and a backpack. Everything in the room had that new feeling, though it looked new from the thrift shops rather than from a department store. Utilitarian, the furniture was a mishmash of patterns, but it served its purpose and Rex seemed content.
We settled on the sofa and floor surrounding the TV, and Peyton tuned it to the local news channel. Grieve and Chatter stared at the screen, shaking their heads. Neither was comfortable around technology, and neither understood the appeal of TV. The guards had stationed themselves outside the door once they ascertained the apartment was safe.
Luna carried in the tray, followed by Rex, on his crutches. Cheese, lunch meats, bread, condiments, sliced tomatoes, and lettuce. And a big bag of cookies.
"If you want soda, there's some in the fridge," Rex said. We wouldn't find any alcohol in his house, since he was a recovering alcoholic.
The news came on and we settled down, quietly slapping together sandwiches as we waited for Marley Jonathon—the local news anchor—to finish wrapping up the headlines.
"In breaking news, we have a statement from the Regent of the Vampire Nation, Lord Lannan Altos. He is issuing a warning that all citizens of New Forest must obey."
Lannan's voice came on the screen, dubbed over a painting of the Regent. He was as gorgeous in the portrait as he was in life. A ticker tape under the news desk read, previously recorded.
"Citizens of New Forest, we are facing yet another challenge. We are hunting three rogue vampires. They are to be considered extremely dangerous. They were responsible for five deaths last night. We are instituting yet another curfew, running from sunset to sunrise. We urge you to hang garlic braids at every window and door and keep alert. Report any unusual activity to the authorities, and also to our hotline—1-800-555-VAMP. I repeat, these vampires are rogue; they do not abide by the Treaty. They are dangerous and will kill."
I sighed, looking around. "Five more deaths. At least Lannan is being open with the citizenship of the town. That impresses me, as much as I hate to say it."
Grieve let out a grunt. "Don't give the creep too much credit."
Shaking my head, I mumbled. "Credit where credit is due. I didn't say I liked him. But Geoffrey, if he were in this situation, would have done his best to cover this up."
With an irritated shrug, Grieve let the matter drop.
The announcer was discussing the deaths. "All five are victims of a brutal massacre, perpetrated by the rogue vampires. The Crimson Court has put out a bounty on their heads, but it is only available to members of the Vampire Nation. All mortals are urged to avoid engaging them. I repeat: They are dangerous and will kill without provocation. The names of the dead are Robert Higgins, George Wendell, Mary Booth, Tregar Johnson, and Lida Lavine."
Peyton's head shot up. "Lida Lavine? Oh, that's going to go over well."
"Who is she?" I asked.
"The daughter of one of the most influential members of the Lupa Clan. She's a werewolf, and you know how the lycanthropes feel about the vampires." The look on her face said everything I was thinking.
Werewolves hated vampires, and they despised the magic-born. Come to think of it, they pretty much didn't like anybody but their own kind. They were the thugs of the Supe world, always in a gang, always banding together.
"Well, fuck. I wonder if Regina knows that. She has to, I would think. But it's going to mean an escalation in tensions that don't need any flaming." The Lupas were just waiting for trouble to set them off.
My phone rang, and I moved to the side to answer it. It was Ysandra Petros, the liaison between the Consortium and the Moon Spinners.