said.
“Beau thinks that,” I corrected. “But I have to know if it’s true.”
There was a pause, then: “You know, if he knew about milites mortis . . .”
“Yeah?”
“Isn’t it also possible that there is no threat to Odessa, and he’s using your past to manipulate you?”
I leaned back against the headboard. Quinn was thinking like a vampire, but he wasn’t wrong. “Yeah, it’s possible. But I can’t take the risk.”
“I understand. Just be careful, okay?”
“I will.” I thought of Warton and his mirrored sunglasses. “They really don’t like boundary witches, but I haven’t gotten the impression that anyone in Beau’s camp actually wants to hurt me.”
“Have you heard from Maven’s contact?”
“No. But I just opened this phone. Can you make sure Maven passes on the number? And forward my other calls?”
Quinn promised to do so, and then there was a long pause. “Lex? You okay?”
“Yeah, but . . . I have to ask you kind of an uncomfortable question.”
“Okay . . .”
I took a deep breath. I hated, hated having to ask him this.
“When I pressed you, did you know afterward that you’d been pressed?”
There was another long pause, during which I squeezed my eyes shut. I had pressed Quinn to save his life, but it was still a sore spot.
“Why are you asking?” he said carefully.
I told him about Beau’s suspicion that one of his Four Horsemen may have been pressed. “He wants me to question them tomorrow night, but I’m not sure what to ask. I’m so sorry, but you’re the only vampire I can think of who I’ve pressed and still talk to, other than Clara, and that was, um . . . too much.”
I’d once pressed a rebellious vampire way too hard, and as a result she was basically loyal to me in her DNA. If I hadn’t done it, she would have died, but that didn’t make me feel less guilty.
“I see.” Quinn’s voice was stilted, formal.
“Never mind,” I rushed to say. “I’ll figure it out another—”
“Ask them if they have time missing,” Quinn said abruptly. “Or if they had really strong feelings about something at a certain time, but then later couldn’t remember why they cared so much.”
I pushed out a breath. “I will. Thanks.”
“Goodnight, Lex.”
He hung up without another word.
Leaving the phone on the nightstand to charge, I unpacked the rest of my things, including the four shredder stakes I’d brought from Colorado. Lily had given me the idea of using extra-large wooden knitting needles for the shredders, so they seemed innocuous if other people saw them. I’d found some that were the exact length of my forearm, and Maven had paid a witch in Denver to weave the magic that caused them to explode on impact. The magic worked only once, though, so I’d needed to bring more than the two I had in my carry-on.
When I felt organized, I brought my toiletry bag into the bathroom and took a long shower. It wasn’t even midnight, but the adrenaline boost of facing ghosts and meeting Beau had worn off, and I felt a wave of exhaustion.
As I came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, I noticed that I’d left the balcony curtains open. I padded over to the glass doors to close the curtains before I got dressed—and gasped, taking a little jump backward.
There was a cardboard box sitting on the balcony.
Chapter 12
I ran for the lights first.
I was four stories up, which meant whoever had left the box on my balcony was Old World and could likely see just fine in the dark. But I needed to see outside.
After I flipped the switch, I grabbed a shredder off the desk and crouched down, giving my eyes a few seconds to adjust. When I could see as well as possible, I crawled across the room, trying to spot someone on the balcony. The small space was backlit by streetlights, and even when I squinted, I couldn’t make out any movement. I crawled closer, until my face was inches from the glass doors.
There was no one there.
Babe. You have more than one way to look for people.
Shit. Sam was right. Feeling stupid, I dropped into my boundary mindset. There were hundreds of dim glows coming up from the street level, but nothing at all on the balcony. No red glow of a vampire, no blue glow of life. Whoever had left the box was long gone.
Only then did I relax.
I didn’t have a robe, but I threw on a sleep shirt