The thought of Czerno loose somewhere in the house made her sit up quickly. She still wore the gown, though strands of hair blinded her and she knew her pillow would be filled with makeup. Pierre eyed her and crossed to her bathroom, tossing several items into her travel bag. She fixed her hair while sliding on her shoes.
"Is Czerno here?" she asked.
"Mon dieu non!"
"Then what's the rush?"
He waved her out and led her at a quick pace to the front door.
"You look terrible," he said, considering her.
"Rough night," she muttered and snatched her makeup bag from him.
A town car with darkened windows awaited them. She spent the next half hour in the dim lighting of the car fixing her makeup with Pierre's persistent pointers. They entered a large neighborhood and drove the same few blocks a few times before stopping in front of a large adobe hacienda walled off from its neighbors.
"Go inside. I'll wait 'til you enter the gate. You'll be safe," he instructed her.
She hesitated then exited the car and shivered in the late night breeze. The town car left as she stepped inside the gate. She knocked on the door. When no one answered, she knocked again. It wrenched open, and a man in a black trench coat Damian's size looked her over once.
"Not tonight. Get the fuck outta here." And he slammed the door. Sofia took a step back and silently urged Pierre to hurry. Damian's men were not the type she wanted to piss off.
"Why are you not inside, mademoiselle?" Pierre asked, agitated as he trotted through the gate. "It's not safe out here."
"You said it was."
"Relatively speaking, it's much safer inside."
Sofia swallowed a retort. Pierre pounded on the door with the discretion of a jackhammer. The door opened, and a different, blond man looked them over before stepping back.
"Pierre," her bodyguard introduced himself, clapping him on the arm.
"Everyone and their mothers are here tonight. You might as well come in," was the surly response.
"What happened?"
"Rainy was supposed to protect a Natural he found. The vamps fucked her up real good tonight."
"What's her talent?" Pierre asked.
"Tracking."
Sofia listened and trailed them through the house that resembled a frat house. The only décor consisted of international beer bottle displays and pictures of scantily clad women or cars. The living room was equipped with a massive flat screen television and worn furniture. They reached a second foyer where the man in the trench stood next to a caramel-colored man covered in blood.
"This is the Tucson Sector team," Pierre said. "They're the Guardians at the operational front of our war. Their job is to kill the vamps and any other of Czerno's creatures while minimizing collateral damage."