The Girl Who was Infatuated with Death(26)

She almost laughed, but managed to keep looking stern.

“Yeah, Jerry? It’s me, Liam…yeah, listen, you mind keeping an eye on my place for a couple days? Yeah, the cats pretty much take care of themselves…they keep the mice population down in the barn so you don’t gotta worry about feeding them, and there’s fresh water over by the pump, but just…uh…check in on ’em every day or so? You mind? Yeah, I’ll be back—what? No, Sophie and me didn’t run off together. I mean, we did, but we’ll be back…right?” He raised his eyebrows at her. “We’ll be back? Yeah, she’s nodding…uh-huh. None of your damn business, and thanks for watching the cats.” He hung up. “There, can I finish shaving now?”

“Yes, please,” she said, still trying not to laugh. Embarrass was a small town; she could just imagine the storm of gossip that had arisen when she and Liam had disappeared together.

He muttered something as he passed her, but even her attuned vampire hearing didn’t catch it. It sounded like, “Women.” Such things, it seemed, transcended age.

“I just don’t think—”

“I’m goin’.”

“But I’m not sure you realize—”

“Goin’.”

“But it isn’t necessary for you to—”

“Sophie.”

“But—”

“Sophie.”

She slumped back against the seat and sighed, something she didn’t often do. He was impossible. Implacable. Men! She’d forgotten how oddly protective they could get after a little hip-bumping.

The last thing she needed was to bring a sheep to the library; Marjorie was a little touchy on subjects like that. The head librarian was so old, and so infinitely crafty, most people were drooling idiots in comparison. Especially most humans, who had only a fraction of her life span and knowledge. Subsequently, the old vampire didn’t suffer fools lightly. Liam wasn’t a fool, but compared to Marjorie…

Well, this was for the greater good, and the thought of restraining Liam—knocking him out, somehow, like they did in the movies?—did not sit well with her. She would just have to…

Her truck door swung open and Liam stuck his head in. “You coming?”

“Yes,” she replied through gritted teeth. “In fact, would you kindly follow me.”

“No problem,” he said, cheerful now that he saw he was getting his way. He pointedly ignored all her glares and sulks and followed her into the building, which looked like an abandoned warehouse.

Inside, of course, was a different story.

“Huh,” Liam said, looking around. “Looks a lot smaller from the outside.”

“Good evening, Sophie,” Marjorie said, standing right beside the main desk, looking (as she always did) as if she had been waiting just for them.

“Marjorie,” she replied, and they kissed on both cheeks. She didn’t bother introducing Liam; Marjorie wouldn’t have cared. “I’m not here to relax and read, I’m afraid. I need to meet with the queen tonight. Can you arrange it?”

Marjorie wrinkled her brow. She was a tallish woman with excellent posture and black hair streaked with gray. Her dark eyes were cold, though, and any resemblance to someone’s youngish grandmother was strictly imaginary. “I don’t keep her appointments, I’m afraid. But I can give you directions to her house.”

“You mean just…go there?”

Marjorie shrugged apologetically. “It’s how things are done now.”

“Since Nostro was killed?”

“Yes. The new queen is somewhat…relaxed in her rules.”

“Well, there’s nothing for it,” Sophie said, nibbling on her lower lip. “I must speak with her. It can’t wait another night.”

“Of course. You’re in luck, too,” she added, nodding in Liam’s direction. “She’s fond of sheep. She has a couple of them herself.”

“Uh…”