into the world.”
“Would be worth a visit to that house,” Wrath said. “Montrag’s heirs and assigns get hold of something like this, we’ve all got problems, feel me?”
“He died without issue, but yeah, there’s some of his bloodline around somewhere. And I’m going to make sure that they don’t find out about this.”
No way in hell anyone was making him break the vow he’d made to his mother.
Not gonna happen.
FIFTY
As Ehlena did her shopping at the twenty-four-hour Hannaford supermarket she always went to, she should have been in a better mood. Things couldn’t have been left on a sweeter note with Rehv. When he’d had to go to his meeting, he’d taken a quick shower and let her pick out his clothes and even do up his tie. Then he’d wrapped his arms around her and they’d just stood together, heart-to-heart.
Eventually, she’d walked him outside into the hall and waited with him for the elevator to come. Its arrival had been announced on a chime and a slide of the double doors, and he’d held the things open to kiss her once, twice. A third time. Finally, he’d stepped back and as the twin doors shut, he’d held up his phone, pointed to it, and pointed to her.
The fact that he would be calling her made the good-bye much easier. And she loved the idea that the black suit and crisp white shirt and bloodred tie he had on were what she had chosen for him.
So, yeah, she should be happier. Especially because her financial squeeze had been eased a little with the loan from the First Rehvenge Bank & Trust Company.
But Ehlena was jumpy as hell.
She stopped in the juice aisle, in front of the neat rows of Ocean Spray Cran-everything-and-his-uncles, and looked over her shoulder. Just more juice on the left and arrangements of granola bars and cookies on the right. Farther down, there were the checkouts, most of which were closed, and beyond that, the dark glass windows of the store.
Someone was following her.
Ever since she’d gone back into Rehv’s penthouse, gotten dressed herself, and dematerialized off the terrace after locking up.
Four CranRas bottles went into her cart, and then she headed for the cereal aisle and across to the paper towels and the toilet paper. In the meat department, she picked up a ready-made roasted chicken that looked like it had been taxidermied rather than cooked, but at this point, she just needed some protein she didn’t have to oven-up herself. Then it was steak for her father. Milk. Butter. Eggs.
The only disadvantage to checking out after midnight was that all the U-Scans were closed, so she had to wait behind a guy with cart full of Hungry-Man frozen dinners. As the attendant swept the Salisbury steaks across the scanner, Ehlena stared out the glass storefront wondering whether she was losing her mind.
“You know how to cook these?” the guy asked her as he held up one of the thin boxes.
Evidently, he’d misread her forward fixation as having anything to do with him and was looking for someone to heat his meat, literally: The human’s eyes were hot, and roaming over her, and all she could think of was what Rehvenge would do to the guy.
This made her smile. “Read the box.”
“You could read it for me.”
She kept her voice level and bored-sounding. “Sorry, I don’t think my boyfriend would appreciate that.”
The human seemed a bit crestfallen as he shrugged and handed his frozen dinner over to the girl behind the cash register.
Ten minutes later, Ehlena rolled her cart out of the electric doors and was greeted by a nasty, slapping cold that made her huddle up in her parka. Fortunately, the cab she’d taken to the store was right where it was supposed to be, and she was relieved.
“You need help?” the cabbie asked through the window he put down.
“No, thanks.” She looked around as she put her plastic bags in the backseat, wondering what in the hell the driver would do if a lesser jumped out from behind a truck and played Bad Santa on their asses.
When Ehlena got in next to the groceries and the driver hit the gas, she searched the eaves of the store and the half dozen cars that were parked as close to the entrance as you could get. Mr. Hungry-Man was farting around in his van, his interior light shining down on his face as he lit a cigarette.
Nothing. Nobody.
She forced herself to settle against the seat and