As I ate, the room filled with security types, and the pain in my gut eased. I studied the room. Someone had rearranged and redecorated the odd room, and a mirror that used to hang on the end wall was gone, exposing the cracked and bowed plaster from the settling of the building and the constant humidity. It was cracked in the shape of a doorway. Huh. I looked up at the ceiling, putting the floor plan together in my mind. I wondered whether one of Leo’s secret stairways, or maybe even an elevator, was behind the wall, a useless bit of trivia I’d never need.
When I was done, I flopped back on the couch and looked at the people in the room, all men, all armed, all staring at me. And caught a strong whiff of myself. My clothes stank of sweat and blood and lillilend slime and ticked-off cat. And vomit. Ick. My nose wrinkled. But before I could take care of my stench, I had to know other stuff. “How’s Leo and Gee?”
“Alive,” Bruiser said. “Both were bitten. Both are unwell. We brought in the priestesses.” More gently, he added, “As you seem inclined to live, I’ll look in on them now.”
“Okay, yeah. I’m good. Keep me informed?”
Bruiser nodded and stepped out. Eli stepped in and gave one of his patented non-nods.
The security people in the room with us were armed to the teeth, taut with inaction and the need to do something. Anything physical. I rotated my shoulders and got to my feet, feeling a bit more steady than before the gaggy oatgruel, though my stomach ached as if I’d been kicked. “We have info to share and jobs to do,” I said. “But can we wait until I’ve cleaned up before we do this?” I gestured around the room. “This debrief?”
“We need more space,” Wrassler said. “Tables. Chairs. Doughnuts.”
“Computer access,” Eli said, his eyes hard.
Which was a clue to me that we had things to discuss. “Right. Okay,” I said. “I’ll get a fast shower and meet you in the conference room. We’ll talk, cuss and discuss, and reach some preliminary conclusions. Because we have a problem, people. A big one.” I pointed to Wrassler. “Divide up your people. Two by two. No one alone until we figure this out. I want the grounds walked over, every inch. I want the roofs looked over. You’re looking for any clear slime or any crystalline grit from the attacking whatever-it-was. Plus which direction it came from and if it was alone or with something or someone else.”
When no one moved, I said, “Now!” The room emptied quickly of the ancillary people, which gave me more air to breathe and fewer stress pheromones to struggle through. As the door closed, I heard Wrassler giving orders and the sound of feet moving off fast. Yeah. They’d needed jobs.
I pushed my own feet into motion, though they felt like they weighed fifty pounds each, and moved toward the door. I was sore. I really hoped I wouldn’t need to fight again soon. Usually when I changed back from Beast, everything was healed, but this pain was new, as if I’d been put back together wrong somehow. “Eli, you’re with me.”
I pushed through into the foyer, Eli calling after me, “You want me to shower with you, babe?” he asked. “Wash your back?”
I smiled, though it was more like a baring of teeth. He’d choke on his tongue if I said yes. “Watch my back. Not wash it,” I called to him. He was by my side in an instant and I continued, much softer. “We don’t know how that thing got in and I’m not quite myself yet.” He looked me over in surprise and I felt good that I had kept something from him, which means that no one else had realized how worthless I was. “You’re my plus one until I’m better. I need to know how that thing managed to hurt Gee and Leo, and what effect it will have on them long range.” And how it saw me in the gray place of the change, but I didn’t say that. “And I need an update on the elevator situation.”
“Alex is already working on everything. He’ll have an update in fifteen minutes.”
“Good. Shower. Now.”
“Yeah,” Eli said, far too casually. “You really do stink, babe.”
I had been running around vamp HQ in my filthy Lycra and bare feet, and no one had said a word about it. Except my partner. He was such a good pal. Not.
Fortunately, the elevator had been cleaned, housecleaning leaving behind a synthetic scent probably called Highlands Heather or Mystical Forest or some such stupid name. We were cleared for the gym floor, so I swiped my hand over the reader, punched a button, and soon I was standing, still clothed, under scalding hot water, letting it rinse away the stench of fighting.
Standing under the hard spray, I stripped, and something fell out of my shirt and jog bra. I caught the smooth, rounded, plastic-like thing before it hit the floor and set it aside to finish cleaning. When my hair was washed and combed, I was lotioned up, and was wrapped in one of the plush towels kept in the locker room, I called out to Eli, “I’m ready to dress now.”
“Clear,” came his response as he stepped out of sight of the curtained stalls. The towel covering me from shoulder to knees, I tossed my wet clothes into a sink and opened the locker assigned to me.
I never knew what clothes I’d find in my locker, provided by the HQ staff. Sometimes it was formal wear. Recently, I had found three pairs of dancing shoes—black, gold, and a silver pair that I was pretty sure had been put there by Del. Once, a pair of really nice formfitting pants and a gorgeous, black, cowl-necked sweater had been inside. Today, I found clean undies, a pair of black knit pants, a pair of black jeans, two sweaters, and several T-shirts. Leo was giving me a choice. That was a change. Underneath the clothes and tied up with a red bow was a brand-new, custom-made holster, a tactical SERPA carbon-fiber thigh holster, adjustable for various makes and models of guns. And my blades. And my stakes.
Had Leo given me this? He was a narcissistic, dictatorial, tyrannical, despotic, spoiled-as-a-child blood-sucker and he thought he could buy his way into my loyalty and my pants, so maybe, though guns didn’t seem his style. And then I saw the card. It was handwritten on heavy card stock in black ink. No envelope. I lifted the card into the light and read.
“If a blade, tea, and catnip were not sufficient, perhaps I might woo you with a tactical, drop-thigh holster.” It was signed with a simple script G.
A smile pulled at my lips. “Bruiser,” I said. And, “Woo. What an odd little word.” But the smile on my face lightened all through me.