Kitty's House of Horrors
Page 31
“Mr. Grant is full of mystery, isn’t he?” Anastasia said, her tone stinging. “Really, Mr. Grant, tell us—are you a ringer? Are you here as one of us—or for another reason entirely?”
I rolled my eyes at the conspiracy. “Oh, please.”
But everyone else was looking at Odysseus. Tina, who’d been suspicious of him since the hypnotism; Jeffrey, who couldn’t see his aura; the others, who simply didn’t know what to think of him. Once again, it would make great TV.
“This is going to go all Lord of the Flies on us, isn’t it?” I wondered if that was the idea. I shook my head. “We’re better than that, people.”
That broke the tension, or rather broke it enough for us to stop glaring at each other.
Ariel stood. “It’s late. I think I’ll head to bed. So, good night, everyone. We’ll all feel better in the morning.”
Jerome and Lee followed. Then Conrad. Then Tina and Jeffrey, glancing at those of us remaining as they went to the stairs, frowning.
Anastasia and Grant didn’t look away from each other. Epic staring match.
“Anastasia?” Dorian said.
“It’s all right. You and Gemma go on.” Dorian touched the younger vampire, and the two of them walked arm in arm to the basement. “Gordon, you’re probably tired. Why don’t you call it a night?” And amazingly, the PA listened to her, wandering to the back room and leaving the front of the house without a camera operator.
“Kitty, would you give us some privacy, as well?” Anastasia said. Hint hint.
“Oh no,” I said. “Somebody’s got to stick around and keep you guys from killing each other.”
Her lips flickered a smile. “You really think you could stop us?”
She was right. Both of them could knock me aside, werewolf or no. “I’m not leaving,” I said, no matter how unable I was to back up my bravado.
Didn’t matter; she proceeded to ignore me.
“Odysseus Grant,” the vampire said, in the way of a judge preparing a verdict.
The magician met her gaze, didn’t flinch. Shocking, astonishing—vampires had power in their gazes. Grant didn’t seem to care. Her gaze didn’t affect him.
I didn’t necessarily want to be here for this. They faced each other in some kind of silent, telepathic battle.
“You’re going to ask me about Roman,” Grant said finally. He started pacing, a few steps one way, then back. Calculated, intimidating. “Has he contacted me. Am I working for him. Will I report to him about you. Will I finish you for him.”
“You can’t finish me.”
“The difficulty is, I have some of the same questions about you. What are you working for?”
“Not who am I working for?” she said, her voice smooth as silk. He nodded, the barest inclination of his head. “So, are you working for Roman? Has he sent you to kill me?”
“Why should I answer your questions when you haven’t answered mine?”
“You guys are idiots,” I said. They both looked at me like they’d forgotten I was there. Or like they’d expected me to stay polite and quiet. To merely witness.
Didn’t they know me better by now?
“You’re the two most powerful people in this house, but that doesn’t automatically make you rivals, does it? So can you please just lay out what you’re really worried about and quit with this clandestine bullshit?” Like my bitching would really get them to be reasonable.
And yet, after a moment, Grant said, “All right. I learned about Roman last year—with Kitty’s help, I might add. I learned that he controlled Las Vegas—my city—through two different vampires, different fronts that hid his identity. An obfuscating sleight of hand that I can almost appreciate. But I don’t, because this is a being who is consolidating power, who doesn’t want people to know he’s consolidating power. I’m trying to learn more about him. Now, perhaps I should apologize for my suspicion, but you’re a vampire, an old one, and it’s more likely that you’re another front acting on his behalf than an independent force acting against him, as I am. There it is. I’ve laid it all out.”
She considered him. “Telling me exactly what I’d like to hear. What would show you in the best light in my eyes.”
“Assuming we’re both telling the truth, we’re both working for the same thing,” Grant said.
“Assuming,” she said, painstakingly polite.
“Wait a minute,” I said, raising my hand. Thinking hard—I had to get the thought out before I lost it. This was important. “Why is this about Roman? How would he know about this crazy little reality show, and why would he even care? If he wanted to go after you all, or recruit you, or whatever, why would he do it here? Unless—unless the whole show is a front.”
Grant had said it himself: fronts behind fronts behind fronts again. This was exactly how Roman operated. Now they were both looking at me, and not as an annoyance. Rather, I was suddenly interesting to them.
The magician followed the thought through. “If someone like Roman wanted to remove some of his rivals, getting them in one place like this is the perfect opportunity.”
“Jerome and I found a campsite out in the woods. Like someone’s been out here watching the place.”
“Roman wouldn’t go through all the trouble,” Anastasia said. “Would he? That would mean Provost is the one working for him.”
I looked away. “I don’t know. It’s crazy. I’m too full up with conspiracy theories right now. But if you’re both working against Roman, you play into his plans by fighting with each other.”
“Roman’s plans stretch across centuries,” Anastasia said. “Nothing’s too far-fetched.”
“If we’re right, what do we do about it?” Grant said.
“We watch,” she said. “We wait.”
“Ah, the vampire way,” I said. “I don’t have that much time. I’m going to poke the wasp nest.”
I stood and went to the back of the lodge, to Provost’s production room.
Chapter 10
Grant and Anastasia didn’t stop me when I went to the back of the lodge, but I imagined them exchanging one of those “there she goes again” looks.
It was late. Really late. But I had a feeling Joey Provost was still awake and watching the footage we’d produced, cooking up new angles and sensationalist storylines. No time like the present to bug him. Besides, if he had been watching the current conversation via one of the remote cameras and microphones, and he was part of some kind of conspiracy, I wanted to get him before he came up with a cover story to deny it all. I wanted to catch him flat-footed.
I rolled my eyes at the conspiracy. “Oh, please.”
But everyone else was looking at Odysseus. Tina, who’d been suspicious of him since the hypnotism; Jeffrey, who couldn’t see his aura; the others, who simply didn’t know what to think of him. Once again, it would make great TV.
“This is going to go all Lord of the Flies on us, isn’t it?” I wondered if that was the idea. I shook my head. “We’re better than that, people.”
That broke the tension, or rather broke it enough for us to stop glaring at each other.
Ariel stood. “It’s late. I think I’ll head to bed. So, good night, everyone. We’ll all feel better in the morning.”
Jerome and Lee followed. Then Conrad. Then Tina and Jeffrey, glancing at those of us remaining as they went to the stairs, frowning.
Anastasia and Grant didn’t look away from each other. Epic staring match.
“Anastasia?” Dorian said.
“It’s all right. You and Gemma go on.” Dorian touched the younger vampire, and the two of them walked arm in arm to the basement. “Gordon, you’re probably tired. Why don’t you call it a night?” And amazingly, the PA listened to her, wandering to the back room and leaving the front of the house without a camera operator.
“Kitty, would you give us some privacy, as well?” Anastasia said. Hint hint.
“Oh no,” I said. “Somebody’s got to stick around and keep you guys from killing each other.”
Her lips flickered a smile. “You really think you could stop us?”
She was right. Both of them could knock me aside, werewolf or no. “I’m not leaving,” I said, no matter how unable I was to back up my bravado.
Didn’t matter; she proceeded to ignore me.
“Odysseus Grant,” the vampire said, in the way of a judge preparing a verdict.
The magician met her gaze, didn’t flinch. Shocking, astonishing—vampires had power in their gazes. Grant didn’t seem to care. Her gaze didn’t affect him.
I didn’t necessarily want to be here for this. They faced each other in some kind of silent, telepathic battle.
“You’re going to ask me about Roman,” Grant said finally. He started pacing, a few steps one way, then back. Calculated, intimidating. “Has he contacted me. Am I working for him. Will I report to him about you. Will I finish you for him.”
“You can’t finish me.”
“The difficulty is, I have some of the same questions about you. What are you working for?”
“Not who am I working for?” she said, her voice smooth as silk. He nodded, the barest inclination of his head. “So, are you working for Roman? Has he sent you to kill me?”
“Why should I answer your questions when you haven’t answered mine?”
“You guys are idiots,” I said. They both looked at me like they’d forgotten I was there. Or like they’d expected me to stay polite and quiet. To merely witness.
Didn’t they know me better by now?
“You’re the two most powerful people in this house, but that doesn’t automatically make you rivals, does it? So can you please just lay out what you’re really worried about and quit with this clandestine bullshit?” Like my bitching would really get them to be reasonable.
And yet, after a moment, Grant said, “All right. I learned about Roman last year—with Kitty’s help, I might add. I learned that he controlled Las Vegas—my city—through two different vampires, different fronts that hid his identity. An obfuscating sleight of hand that I can almost appreciate. But I don’t, because this is a being who is consolidating power, who doesn’t want people to know he’s consolidating power. I’m trying to learn more about him. Now, perhaps I should apologize for my suspicion, but you’re a vampire, an old one, and it’s more likely that you’re another front acting on his behalf than an independent force acting against him, as I am. There it is. I’ve laid it all out.”
She considered him. “Telling me exactly what I’d like to hear. What would show you in the best light in my eyes.”
“Assuming we’re both telling the truth, we’re both working for the same thing,” Grant said.
“Assuming,” she said, painstakingly polite.
“Wait a minute,” I said, raising my hand. Thinking hard—I had to get the thought out before I lost it. This was important. “Why is this about Roman? How would he know about this crazy little reality show, and why would he even care? If he wanted to go after you all, or recruit you, or whatever, why would he do it here? Unless—unless the whole show is a front.”
Grant had said it himself: fronts behind fronts behind fronts again. This was exactly how Roman operated. Now they were both looking at me, and not as an annoyance. Rather, I was suddenly interesting to them.
The magician followed the thought through. “If someone like Roman wanted to remove some of his rivals, getting them in one place like this is the perfect opportunity.”
“Jerome and I found a campsite out in the woods. Like someone’s been out here watching the place.”
“Roman wouldn’t go through all the trouble,” Anastasia said. “Would he? That would mean Provost is the one working for him.”
I looked away. “I don’t know. It’s crazy. I’m too full up with conspiracy theories right now. But if you’re both working against Roman, you play into his plans by fighting with each other.”
“Roman’s plans stretch across centuries,” Anastasia said. “Nothing’s too far-fetched.”
“If we’re right, what do we do about it?” Grant said.
“We watch,” she said. “We wait.”
“Ah, the vampire way,” I said. “I don’t have that much time. I’m going to poke the wasp nest.”
I stood and went to the back of the lodge, to Provost’s production room.
Chapter 10
Grant and Anastasia didn’t stop me when I went to the back of the lodge, but I imagined them exchanging one of those “there she goes again” looks.
It was late. Really late. But I had a feeling Joey Provost was still awake and watching the footage we’d produced, cooking up new angles and sensationalist storylines. No time like the present to bug him. Besides, if he had been watching the current conversation via one of the remote cameras and microphones, and he was part of some kind of conspiracy, I wanted to get him before he came up with a cover story to deny it all. I wanted to catch him flat-footed.
