Sysco shakes his own head, laughing. “Wild. I tore through eight people in my first week after Resurrection. A couple of bags, and you’re satisfied?”
“She’s going to have to drink every day,” Florence points out the difference, my disadvantage that kind of cancels out the other option, in my opinion.
Sysco shrugs at that. “Better than killing people when you’re not meaning to. ‘K, I’m calling Harry.”
Sysco wanders down the hall as he presses the phone to his ear.
“Your friend is… surprising,” Clementine says, keeping her tone low. “I think most anyone else would be freaking the hell out hearing there’s a new kind of vampire.”
“He’s a good guy,” I answer, nodding. “He’s been a good friend to me, and to Ares. We can trust him.”
“I sure hope so,” Florence says, eying Sysco. I can tell she’s trying to overhear his conversation, but I’m sure she can’t. I, however, catch every word. Sysco is simply telling Harry that they need to meet, and it’s urgent.
Sysco hangs up just a few seconds later and walks back toward us. “Harry can meet in an hour. I vote we go look for Ares while we wait.”
“That sounds perfect,” I say with a nod. “Florence, Clementine, you’ve had a hellish evening. I’ll stick with Sysco. You guys should go home.”
I see conflict in Florence’s eyes. She wants to keep control over the situation. She always has her fingers on everything. But she’s human. The only one in the room now. And she looks like she’s barely staying on her feet.
“Fine,” Florence concedes, even with her chin lifted. “I’m going home to take a shower and a nap. But then I’m headed out to look for Ares too.”
I give a nod. “Thank you. Both of you. I appreciate everything you did for me.”
“It wasn’t even a thought,” Florence says as she steps forward and wraps her arms around me in a hug. She presses a kiss to my temple. “Love you, Lana.”
“Love you, too,” I say, and it feels like my entire body warms with the words.
Clementine hugs me next, telling me to be careful and to take care. And I watch as they walk out the front door.
“So, that’s Ares’ sister,” Sysco says as he keeps looking at the closed door. “I see it.”
“Oh, shit, sorry,” I stutter. I didn’t even consider the fact that they’d never met. “Yeah, Florence and her wife, Clementine.”
“I got that much,” Sysco says with a chuckle. “Now, you have got to shower and change before we leave. I’m not looking to get arrested as responsible for how you look.”
For a moment, I look down at myself in confusion. Oh yeah. My shirt is sliced, and I’m covered in my own dried blood.
“Got it, give me ten minutes,” I say as I stride down the hall and shut the bedroom door behind me.
Chapter 3
We don’t find Ares in the grand total of thirty minutes we have to look for him.
Neither Sysco nor I are surprised.
When it’s two minutes until the time we’re supposed to meet Harry, Sysco and I ride the elevator to the thirtieth floor in one of the most beautiful buildings I’ve ever seen in the city. Considering how much of Augustus’s wealth Ares inherited, he is the richest of the Barons now. But if I had to guess, I’d say Harry is probably the second richest. But he’s also the least likely to flaunt it.
We step out of the elevator and are treated to a spectacular view over Manhattan. A wide stretch of windows span out in front of us. Before it is a smattering of comfortable chairs and end tables, the decor elegant and subtle. To the left and right, there are doors to individual offices. As we walk into the space, the door to the corner office opens, and Harry waves us to come in.
Here we go, I think to myself when Harry’s eyes narrow as I approach, then they drop down the length of me, studying, questioning.
“This floor is empty except you?” I ask, even though I hear no sounds of life. It just might take me a few hours to settle into trusting these new, enhanced senses.
“It is,” Harry confirms as the three of us step into the office. Harry closes the door. “Have a seat.”
I’ve never seen a more masculine and moody office in my life. Everything is dark colors and deep wood. All of the furniture is black with burgundy accents. A professional decorator was obviously paid handsomely to coordinate the space to such perfection. It’s almost obsessively clean. I don’t detect a speck of dust in the whole place.
It fits Harry Kim perfectly.
