“Friend,” Boaz corrected through a flash of teeth. “Her very close friend.”
“Danill Volkov, meet Boaz Pritchard.” I gestured between them. “Boaz is my best friend’s big brother. His parents live next door.”
“You still live at home?” Volkov stood so close his heat caressed my spine. “I suppose in this economy…”
“I’m on leave.” Each word sliced through the air. “I haven’t been home in thirteen months, so yes. I will be staying with my family.” His gaze shifted to me. “Besides, my old room has the benefit of giving me a view of Grier’s bedroom window each morning. What more can a man ask for?”
“Boaz, did you need something?” I restrained the urge to throttle him. “Or are you only here to validate my decision to invest in blackout curtains?”
“I can’t find the key to Jolene.” He indicated a toolbox and a bulging plastic bag he’d left on the top step. “Figured the old girl was due for a tune-up.”
“Oh.” I deflated. “Guess I should have seen this coming.” I palmed the keychain off the console table where I’d dropped it last night. “Here you go.”
“Tuck in your bottom lip.” He tapped my chin up with his fingertip. “Amelie told me you’ve been using her to get to work. I’m not here to steal your transportation.”
Volkov uttered a growl that dared Boaz to try, but we both ignored him.
“She’s yours. You can take her any time you want.” Generous of me to give him back his own bike. “I’ll figure something out. Really, it’s okay.”
He shook his head at my stubbornness. “Do you have a dollar?”
“Yeah.” I pulled a wrinkled bill from my pocket and offered it to him. “What do I owe you for the oil and the filter I see in that bag? A dollar won’t cover those.”
“Congratulations. You just bought yourself a bike.” He turned on his heel. “I’ll draw up the papers. You can sign them later.”
“You can’t sell me Jolene.” I chased him across the porch. “You love that bike.”
“I bought a new one this morning.”
My jaw dropped. “Why would you—?”
“Don’t pester me, Squirt, or I might change my mind.” He raised his hand as he set off toward the garage. “Later.”
“Later,” I murmured.
“I should go.”
A flush warmed my cheeks. I’d forgotten Volkov was still here. “Sorry about that.”
“You have nothing to apologize for, and certainly not to me.” He took my hand and brushed his lips across my knuckles. “I look forward to seeing you again soon. I will call to make arrangements.”
“You have my number.” It came out as an accusation. “Why does that not surprise me?”
The sharp edge of his grin made zero apologies for him getting what he wanted.
“Thanks for the gift.” I trailed him down the steps onto the lawn where his driver waited. “I’ll think on what you said.” And the implications of all he hadn’t said.
“Good.” He inclined his head. “Good night, Grier.”
“Night, Mr. Volkov.”
“Danill,” he corrected. “We’re friends, remember?”
“Danill,” I agreed, willing to play nice until I got my answers. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”
The bangle caught the light as I jogged back up on the porch, and I whirled it around my wrist. I had to admit it was as pretty as it was creepy. Since I had yet to go out tonight, I curled my toes against the cool planks, shut my eyes and brushed my thoughts against the wards encircling Woolworth House.
A percussive blast radiated through my skull as a warning chimed in my head. A new quadrant had been weakened within feet of the last assault. Almost as though someone were systematically checking Woolly’s defenses.
That…was not good.
Hard to know who presented the more tempting target. Me or Woolly. Neither of us were inviolable.
Woolly should have reached out to me when she was in danger, not let it pass. Unless the reason she no longer mentally pinged me when the wards got buzzed was because I was too weak to hear her sound the alarm. That weakness might also explain why she’d rolled out the red carpet for our fangy guest.
After spending time with Volkov, I had no doubt he’d orchestrated our first meeting to occur at a time when I was professionally obligated not to turn tail and run. But he’d also chosen an environment where I would be surrounded by witnesses despite the late hour, humans, who he couldn’t reveal himself to on that scale without dire consequences, Last Seed or not, so there was that. He had wanted me comfortable and relaxed, not intimidated.
That left me with the second vampire as a possible suspect, the one with a master eager to make my acquaintance. Or, even worse, another necromancer.
Rivals might have been attempting to crack Woolly like the safe she was all along. Her treasure trove of necromantic knowledge and artifacts were priceless to the Society. Desperation could be making them reckless now that I was home to defend her. Of course my being home might also be the issue.
Maud had been ruthless in her pursuit of knowledge, and she had earned her fair share of enemies. Now I had to wonder if I might have inherited them along with everything else.
Four
Dawn warmed my shoulders as I drove Jolene out to Tybee Island. Her sultry purr after having Boaz’s hands on her kept my thoughts cycling back to him. A dollar. He’d sold me his bike, the one that cost him three summers’ worth of grass-cutting money, for a freaking dollar. And he hadn’t stopped there, either. He had more than changed her oil.
Golden light from the streetlamps caressed the fuel tank, her crimson and black paint glossy under the layers of wax he had lovingly applied after washing off the grime caked on her from months of hard use. It hadn’t slipped my notice that my gas tank was now sitting on full too.
He had laughed himself silly when he realized I still wore the jacket I had inherited from one of his exes. Jerk. Let him laugh. It’s not like I could afford to buy a new one, and it fit. Okay, fine. It zipped.
I wore a corset five nights a week. Breathing was overrated.
Ahead the road thinned to a single lane, and that was a generous assessment. I bumped along, avoiding potholes, until I reached a bungalow with mint-green siding and peppermint-pink shutters. White trim accented the eaves, and clear plastic sealed the windows to keep in the cool like the house was hard candy still in the wrapper.
I parked in the sandy driveway, shucked my gear and approached the front door. It swung open before I got there, and a tiny woman with dark brown skin and long white braids squinted at me through Coke-bottle glasses from the threshold.
“Ma coccinelle.” She removed her glasses and wiped the thick lenses on the hem of her faded tank top. “Tell me, bébé, this is today and not tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow is still a day away, Odette.” I embraced her frail shoulders to anchor her in the present. “Sorry it took me so long to visit.”
Odette Lecomte was a seer, and she tended to get her yesterdays, todays and tomorrows scrambled.
People came from all over the world to invite her to sift their futures through her gnarled fingers. But her value, at least to me, wasn’t in her guidance, but in what treasures she had unearthed while divining possible eventualities. Her vast network of clients made her a veritable encyclopedia of knowledge both common and forbidden.
“Bah.” She held me at arm’s length and grinned through blackened teeth. “Wounded animals heal best in their dens. You owe no one an apology for doing whatever it takes to survive.”
The sentiment, so similar to Maud’s credo, left my eyes burning raw.
“Come inside.” She hauled me into her living room and shoved me down onto a plush sofa the off-white color of bones. “Tell Odette what you need, and you shall have it.”
“I made a new friend.” I held up my wrist and shook the bangle. “He gave me this. Any idea how to get it off?”
“Ma déesse.” She made the sign of the goddess. “Why would you want to do a crazy thing like that?”