Without the diaper, the chicken would leave me unwanted gifts all over the flat. As far as I was concerned, the diaper was a small price to pay for not ending up at the market as someone’s dinner.
As I returned the containers to the pantry, I glanced at the shelf where I stored baking ingredients. Dusted in white flour was the powerful elemental stone I’d acquired during my assignment for House Lewis. It was currently hidden here for safekeeping. I’d presented a fake stone to the king and queen who were unable to detect the difference. They already possessed the immortality stone. I refused to let the royal vampires have control over a powerful elemental stone, too.
The menagerie gobbled down their food like it was the final meal of their lives and I opened the balcony to allow them fresh air. An impatient caw greeted me.
“Apologies, Barnaby. I didn’t know you were here,” I said to the raven. “You missed all the fun at the pub.”
The raven fixed me with accusatory eyes, although I was pretty sure I was projecting.
“Harry’s death was an accident,” I said.
Barnaby cawed again and flew away. I tried not to take offense.
I’d mulled over the incident the whole way home. In light of the other wolves turning, I was confident Donnie and Harry would’ve shifted regardless of hitting the wall. The timing was simply an unfortunate coincidence.
At least that’s what I kept telling myself. The appearance of magical mystery me gnawed at me. How did I manage to make multiple copies of myself? I knew there was magic I hadn’t mastered, but this spectacular talent seemed like one I would’ve uncovered before now. It certainly didn’t come from my father. Vampires didn’t possess magic, and the one and only thing I knew about my father was his species. My mother didn’t talk about him. She treated me the same way I treated my friends. The less I knew, the safer I’d be.
My mind was still buzzing when I crawled into bed an hour later. I closed my eyes and focused on happy memories. I tended to increase my chances of pleasant dreams when I chose a focal point in advance. My mother’s image appeared in my mind’s eye. I was eight years old and she was showing me how to manipulate fire. Every lesson was chosen carefully, prioritizing practicality and safety. Fire was versatile—it could keep me warm, help me see, and protect me. Sometimes I wondered what she’d think of me becoming a knight. Part of me thought she’d like that I dedicated my life to helping others. The other part of me worried she’d scold me for putting myself in danger every day when she’d worked so hard to hide me and keep me safe.
Thanks to my drifting mind, instead of pleasant dreams, I ended up with a montage of a vampire lineup where I was attempting to pick out my father while a clock ticked in the background. Not quite a nightmare but not exactly warm and fuzzy.
It was hard to imagine a vampire capable of sweeping my mother off her feet.
I rolled to the side and tucked my hands beneath my cheek in prayer form. I felt the warmth of Hera’s body as the cat snuggled against my back and Big Red lay across my feet, pinning them to the mattress.
Knights tended to live somewhat solitary lives, but I was never lonely. There was always a whisker or a tail in my personal space. And they were good listeners, too. I credited them with keeping me sane.
My eyelids grew heavy and I was relieved to put the long day behind me. Finally I let go of the tension I’d been holding and welcomed sleep with open arms.
The next morning I arrived at the Knights of Boudica headquarters in Piccadilly Circus, feeling marginally better than the night before. There was no substitute for a good night’s sleep. I sauntered into the Pavilion, pausing to greet Treena, the security guard. The building was originally constructed in the 1850s and was once the home of a music hall and a shopping arcade before succumbing to the effects of the Eternal Night and falling into disrepair. The original Knights of Boudica pooled their resources and bought the building for a song, then spent years fixing it up as their headquarters. As the only all-female banner, we went out of our way to keep a professional appearance. We didn’t want to give anyone a reason to think less of us and that meant the best weapons we could afford, superior magical armor, and decent office space. Like our predecessors, we generally accepted the work nobody else wanted. We were the last port in a storm for the desperate, the poor, and the discreet—and people like Gerald Latham who apparently thought we’d do anything for a buck.
“Where’s Trio?” I asked. I’d befriended the three-headed dog in a tunnel during an assignment and inadvertently ended up making her part of the team. It was either that or let her be killed. My flat was too cramped for a creature of her size so now she lived here as a watchdog.
“Briar took her for a walk. Two of her heads were whining,” Treena said. “I heard The Crown blew up. Know anything about that?”
I held up my hand as though swearing an oath. “I know absolutely nothing about The Crown blowing up.”
Treena eyed me suspiciously but didn’t ask any follow-up questions.
I was halfway to my desk when Minka pounced on me. “I heard there was an incident at The Crown last night. It’s closed for renovations.”
“Is it?” I maintained a neutral expression. Although she was a witch, Minka Tarlock served mostly in an administrative role. Her specialty was spells, which weren’t as handy in the field as other types of magic. When you were in the midst of a knock-down, drag-out fight with a minotaur, you didn’t have time to light candles and mix potions.
“You were there. I heard all about it from Simon.” Minka regarded me as she pulled her dark hair into a sleek ponytail. If she talked less, you might notice the bronze skin and wide-set brown eyes inherited from her Asian father and the willowy frame and straight nose passed down from her Nordic mother.
Her mouth was always moving, however, and she left you no choice but to focus on the barrage of questions and comments being hurled at you. More than once Kami remarked that the armory needed a shield for the sole purpose of deflecting conversations with Minka.
“I heard you were drunk and wrecked the place and it’s going to cost a small fortune to fix.”
I sincerely doubted she’d heard any of that from Simon. He wanted to keep the actual events quiet and had no reason to capitulate to Minka’s demands for information.
I smiled. “Then I suppose there’s nothing I can tell you that you don’t already know.”
She pursed her lips together and thrust out a sheet of paper. “I expect a full report on last night’s adventure.”
I ignored the paper and kept walking. “Kami said she would do it.” Technically Gerald Latham wasn’t my client, so the report had to be completed by Kami unless she was incapacitated.
Kami ambled in behind me. “What did I say I’d do?”
Minka waved the same sheet of paper at her. “Report on the Latham case. Did you successfully complete it?”
“Yep.” Kami snatched the paper from Minka’s hand and kept walking.
“London told us what happened at The Crown,” Minka said.