wants, just walk away.”
The demon stirred. How dare Fletcher interfere in his business? “What I do is none of your concern, Fletcher.”
The younger vampire’s face twisted. He turned to walk away. “Don’t say you weren’t warned.”
Rage tugged at the demon’s bonds. It took all of Gideon’s strength to let the other vampire amble back into the shadows with his skin still intact.
“So the Tomb was the last place your cousin was seen?”
Thalia spun around, her hand at her throat.
Gideon Damek stood behind her, fists buried in the deep pockets of his black trench coat. The weather had changed since the evening before, and rain drilled the tall windows flanking each side of the kitchen. Like a raging fire, he seemed to devour all the oxygen in the room, consuming even the air in her lungs.
Her cozy kitchen seemed the size of a shoebox. He was so close she could smell the exotic masculine scent of him. Something stirred deep within her. She fought the urge to take a deeper breath, to analyze each note of the fragrance, and pressed back against the stove in a futile attempt to gain some space. “How did you get past my protective wards?” An icy breaker of fear swelled over her.
Gideon shrugged, his dark eyes inscrutable. “I’ve learned a few tricks over the years. I suspect they would have kept out a younger vampire. Besides, you invited me.” He folded his hand into a simulation of a phone.
Thalia cleared her throat at that small comfort, trying to regain her composure. “You could have knocked.”
“At least I didn’t attack first and ask questions later.”
Thalia felt her face burn.
“Please sit down.” She waved a hand toward the kitchen table, being careful not to touch him. He took a seat in one of the ladder-back chairs, the mountain at rest.
She joined him, met his ebony gaze, then glanced away. Eyes like that should be illegal. They saw way too much. “I believe I was the last person to see Lily alive. I met her for drinks at the B.B. and C.,” she said, using the abbreviation for the Bell, Book, and Candle, a popular local bar used by both witches and vampires. The vampires called it the Tomb. It always amused Thalia that the two communities shared one big room without ever acknowledging each other. To pettys, it was just another Goth club. They wandered from side to side without realizing the true nature of the other patrons. “She was in a party mood, but I’d been on surveillance all day, insurance fraud.” God, if only she’d stayed. “Someone has to pay the bills.” How many times had she said that to Lily? Too many. “I was tired.” Tears raked the tender inside of her eyelids. She forced them back determinedly. Time enough for tears later, after she had driven a stake into Lily’s murderer’s black heart.
“I thought the witches’ Champion was a paid position.”
Thalia grimaced. “Theoretically. But people recovering from demon possession, or whatever, rarely have money to spare. The most I usually get are vague promises of future favors.”
Gideon’s dark eyes focused on her like the scope of a sniper’s rifle. Unable to stand the power of his gaze, she glanced at the table before brushing his features with her eyes.
“No one saw Lily leave.” Thalia licked her lips. “You were there that night.”
His face went as still and cold as a statue in a cemetery. “I’m there every night. I own the Tomb.”
The breath Thalia had been subconsciously holding left her lungs in a rush. Whatever she had expected him to say, it hadn’t been that. “You own the Tomb?”
He nodded. No more than a short, swift bob. His sensual mouth pressed into a tight, grim line.
The professional investigator took over. “Is this common knowledge?” She wished she had her laptop or digital recorder, but she didn’t dare get up. Despite his size and the majesty of his movements, he was a dark specter who might vanish as quickly as he’d appeared.
“Not as far as I know. I would hardly advertise my involvement with the Bell, Book, and Candle.” His tone was dry. “If people in the vampire community knew who owned the Tomb, they’d be constantly after me to expel the witches. Vampires are, excuse the pun, ‘fly-by-night’ patrons at best. I need witches and mayflies to keep the tavern running.” He leaned back in his chair, the mountain in repose.
“Mayflies.” Thalia crossed her arms over her chest, offended by the term.
“Mortals.”
“I knew