Falling from the Light (The Night Runner Series Book 3) (4 page)

“
I
trust
the flight was good,” Petr said from the plush bench seat across from me. Quiet and tidy as a butler, the human only seemed to appear when the shit went down or a hundred things needed to happen in the next ten minutes.

He’d met us at the airport in a light linen suit with a small, impersonal smile. In the space of five minutes, Malcolm, Soraya, and about ten other vampires—along with all those trunks Malcolm had brought—were packed into a fleet of dark, vampire-proofed vans and trucks and speeding away. Their human drivers all looked and moved like ex-military.

We were now rolling in the other direction, along the predawn 101 while our guide spelled out our itinerary for the upcoming day. He didn’t seem overly pleased with his assignment.

“It’s quite exciting riding in a vampire airplane,” Mickey said. “More so for some than others.” She grinned without looking at me.

“I see you’ve already been attired,” Petr said. “You’re nearly presentable now.”

“You going to take me home to your mom?” I asked, smiling when he blanched.

The outfit Malcolm had provided consisted of skinny black jeans, a black tank top with a low neckline, and a gauzy white sweater that slumped dramatically off one shoulder. I’d tossed the gold hoop earrings and gold-and-jade mess of a necklace into my bag and hoped never to see them again. If his plan was to disguise me as rich and ostentatiously fashionable with no concern for whether my ass went on display when I bent over, he’d succeeded. How such a disguise could keep me discreet I had no idea. Maybe vampires were unable to stare directly into the face of plumber’s crack.

Thurston sat beside me but faced away, and I rubbed my arm every few minutes, warming it from the steady trickle of flat, cold energy that leached out of him and into me. The windows of the limo were tinted so dark that he probably wasn’t looking out so much as simply not looking at the rest of us. He had no luggage, and the teal sweater with the ratty cuffs he wore wasn’t going to cut it in the summer heat. He dressed like an old man. All he was missing was a pipe and an ear horn.

“Do we have time to go shopping?” I asked.

“There’s no need,” Petr replied without looking up from the folio in his lap. “The wardrobe in your room is fully stocked.”

“Not for me.” I pointed my thumb at Thurston. “For my friend here.” The vampire didn’t react except possibly to go even more still. He didn’t even sway when the car cornered. The corners of Petr’s mouth turned down.

“Perhaps he can go out and scratch something together while you’re receiving your services.”

“I will not leave her,” Thurston announced.

Mickey frowned and said something to him in Spanish. I was nowhere near fluent, but thought I caught the words for
daylight
and
burn the hell up
. He glanced sidelong at me and went back to window gazing. Of course he wouldn’t be able to escort me during the day. Plus, there was the whole Goya thing to deal with. Better to get that out of the way early. Bronson would appreciate a prompt response, and then I wouldn’t have to think about it anymore. Unless…

“Will you be accompanying us all the time, Petr?” I asked, trying to sound inquisitive rather that suspicious. He eyed me from beneath drawn eyebrows. For a small man with such smooth hands, he did stern quite well.

“No, Miss Franklin, I will not.”

I scrunched up my nose. “You’ve got to stop calling me that.” I’d only just gotten to the point where everyone I associated with knew me by my real name. It was kind of nice.

“It’s to help you remember. All of you.” He handed me a large envelope, then gave another to Mickey. “Andrea Franklin. Maria Fuente. Passports, papers, IDs, room keys, and credit cards. You’ve got some background information in those packets. We kept it close to the truth so it would be easier to remember. Familiarize yourself with them. Track the details you add.” As if it was that easy to make up a new identity. I’d been two other people in my short life and found that the best way to keep others from becoming suspicious was to say very little, not invent extra details.

“Why did you set up an ID for Mickey?” I asked.

“Her family had a series of misfortunes at their recreational property. Flash flooding. They’re dealing with the cleanup to the house and excavation of several vehicles.”

“They’re not coming back?” Mickey asked, apparently unconcerned with Petr being up to date on the details on her extended family.

“Not immediately,” he replied.

“I hope they like the mud as much as I like this.” Mickey jerked a credit card out of the packet and beamed. “The thing you must understand about Maria Fuente is that, when she was very young she fell out of a tree and bumped her head. Ever since that day, she has been unable to stop herself from compulsively buying clothing and cutting-edge electronics.”

“You damaged the shopping restraint section of your brain?” I asked, laughing.

She nodded solemnly, fully in character. “The doctors were perplexed. It was written about in medical magazines.”

“Anything you use should be verifiable.” Petr smacked his hand against his folio with each detail. “These names in search engines will yield old addresses, defunct or idle social media accounts, and references to your schooling.”

“How good are these IDs?” I asked, turning over the passport in my hands. It appeared real, down to the weird dot-matrix-looking print and seal. Money really could buy you anything.

“Infallible.”

“On Facebook, Maria Fuente ‘likes’ many boy bands,” Mickey said mournfully as she read from her dossier. “I don’t think I can pull this off.”

I rifled through my packet. The room key wasn’t the card kind, but a large, antiquated metal key.

“What’s this hotel like?” I asked. Petr closed his folio.

“Luxurious. It’s an inclusive destination resort for affluent vampires from all the territories. It’s regarded as neutral ground, and governed by a female named Chev. She’s the face and the voice of her tribe, and is involved in everything from the entertainment and oversight of the staff to discipline of the guests who violate the rules of Tenth World.”

“Tenth World,” Mickey cooed. “It sounds amazing. Will there be many vampires there?”

“Hundreds. You’ll enter and exit through a side stairwell off the parking garage. It’s used by the human staff and companions. I advise you to segregate yourselves from the other guests. The arrangements for your accommodations were made with Chev herself. She will honor Mr. Kelly’s security specifications as she can, but the guests are under no such restrictions. It would be best to avoid them.”

“Why a vampire hotel?” I asked. “We’d blend better with humans.” Mickey stuck out her lower lip and I scowled at her.

“In the event this…negotiation becomes unfavorable, you will be safer there than in the open. Chev owes a debt to Malcolm and nobody would dare attack Tenth World, not without an army.” He smiled blandly. “Our intelligence has revealed no approaching army.”

“It’s not a negotiation.”

“Miss Franklin, these are vampires. Each word has dual meaning. Each action is strategic. Your every breath is a negotiation.”

Unable to meet his patronizing smile, I turned toward the window and swallowed a hard lump. I’d thought I was doing well. Not blending, certainly not belonging. But I’d been navigating the world of vampires pretty successfully. But I’d never be able to think that way, never be able to scheme my way around my honest reactions. And one day soon that could be dangerous.

Had I said something that triggered Bronson’s attack on Mal? Had I forgotten to say something, to show the Master something that could have spared him that pain? Thurston glanced at me, then examined Petr as though he’d just become aware of him. We slowed and turned off the highway. I wouldn’t think about Malcolm being hurt or any other terrible thing. He was smart and, for once, he had plenty of backup. Everything would go fine. We’d move on, farther north, and time would pass and he’d be released. And then…we’d think about that when we got there.

I squirmed and rubbed my palms against my thighs. I hated riding in cars. Driving was one thing. Driving was control and satisfaction wrapped in horsepower. Riding was being stuck in a box, subject to the whims and mistakes of someone else.

The car roared through a yellow light before swinging into a parking lot. A single window was lit on the second level of a three-story building decorated with thick, white columns and surrounded by palm trees. Someone had gotten up early to meet us.

“Is this the hotel?” I asked. It seemed kind of…puny.

“This is a spa.” Petr pulled on a fedora and climbed out of the car. “Mr. Kelly advised you were in need of a makeover. I took the liberty of scheduling services.”

Hell first, then the hotel.

H
ell might have been
an exaggeration since the spa did have an excellent array of cosmetics. But it was starting to feel like purgatory when, a hundred million hours later, Mickey leaned down beside me and smiled at our combined reflection in the giant mirror. It was a startling and impressive change. My hair had been stripped of the green and re-dyed a dark, glossy brown. Extensions added enough length that, instead of ending at my nape, my hair now flowed to my elbows. I’d rejected the “streamlining” of my eyebrows, but my short nails were even, shaped, and painted dark purple. I looked soft and pretty and a touch sophisticated, and I couldn’t wait to get out of the plush leather chair.

“You got this, Petr?” I slung my bag over my shoulder, then had to fix my new hair when it tangled in the strap. He looked up from where he stood at the front desk, tapping away on his phone. The makeover wasn’t my idea, so no way was I paying for it.

“It’s already taken care of. We’ll go to the hotel from here.”

I didn’t want to follow the typed schedule from his folio, and I sure as shit didn’t want to ride in his car anymore. I’d rent a damn dune buggy if I had to. That might actually be fun.

“You know, how about this? We’ve just landed and I’m dying for some of the comforts of home. You know, fast food, movie popcorn, lingerie shopping.”

“Yeesss,” Mickey chimed in. “Let us watch a romantic comedy then buy thongs that match. I’m thinking argyle.”

“Purple argyle,” I suggested before turning back to Petr. “So how about you give me the address and we’ll cab it and meet you later?”

Petr dropped a long silver key attached to a short black key chain into my hand. “There will be no cabbing it. Your car has arrived, as specified.” He slid a single sheet of paper out of his folio and handed it to me. “You cannot take this, so memorize the location. Share it with no one.”

“Will it self-destruct after I read it?”

His mouth drew down and one of his eye’s twitched. Zero sense of humor. The hand-drawn map showed an area east-northeast of Scottsdale. The streets around it weren’t named, only the exit off the 101, and it appeared to lie against a rise that wanted to be a mountain. Not the best directions I’d ever received but not the worst, either. I spent a few minutes reviewing the layout of Phoenix and the surrounding towns before we left, and it was easy to incorporate the turns into my mental navigation system. Exit. Right. Right, left, long curve but don’t take the fork, two rights, and then straight into a dead end. I handed the map back to him.

“Thanks. For all this stuff. The car, setting this up.” Even if I hadn’t wanted long hair and skin that smelled like lavender and old-lady lotion.

“Be in before sunset,” he replied. “Watch your profile and where you go. There is a small hive in town, petitioning for sanctuary with one of the other tribes. This is a human city so they will remain in the shadows, but there is a reason they are no longer allowed in the territories.”

Bad bloodsuckers. How unusual. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

He nodded dismissively, and I pulled Mickey through the door before she tried to go back and get something else waxed.

“I thought vampires did not roam your southern states,” she said as we stepped out of the cool salon into a blistering wall of heat. My mouth fell open and all of my freshly scoured pores dropped dead at the same time.

“If they’re asking humans for sanctuary, they’ve worn out their welcome elsewhere. Churches and developing nations do that sometimes, accept vampires, but usually only the ones they can benefit from.” And usually only in places where the vampires got a season of advanced darkness. I shucked my jacket and raised the key. It was bare. No chip. No fob. I squinted as I glanced around the parking lot, trying to match it to a car. My eyes went wide.

“It’s a Buick Skylark,” Petr said as he came outside. Mickey’s hands clasped together in front of her chest.

“Nineteen sixty-six,” she whispered. “That might be original chrome. Should be a 340-bhp.” When she raised her coffee-colored eyes, they were misty. “How fast do you think you can get her to sixty?”

“Fast.” I’d have to buy sunscreen with SPF 90 if I wanted to leave the top down, but it would be worth it. I took two steps toward the pale blue beauty, then rocked to a stop when I noticed the heat waves shimmering around the limo. “Where’s Thurston?”

Petr fixed the brim of his hat, then nodded in the direction I was looking.

“You left him in the car? It’s a thousand degrees out here!”

“If I’d taken him in—even if they allowed it—I wouldn’t have been able to bring him out.”

“That’s inhumane,” Mickey muttered.

“He’s not
human
, Miss Fuente.”

I stared at the reflective black glass of the window, inwardly kicking myself. The loner vampire was my responsibility, and while I was bitching about having my hair done, he was trapped in a sweltering box as twilight turned into burning daylight. Nice fucking work, Syd.

“Are you going straight to the hotel?” I asked.

“I will get him under cover as soon as I am able, Miss Franklin,” Petr said. His put-upon tone made me want to slap him. After I slapped myself for being thoughtless.

At least Thurston could cool off soon, presuming that AC worked in the back of the vampire-insulated car. I stomped toward the Skylark, my joy at the new toy quashed. I reminded myself that I hadn’t gotten Thurston into this situation. And, if we were keeping score, I was the reason he still existed. That didn’t make me feel any better.