Kitty's House of Horrors (15 page)

“This is going to go all
Lord of the Flies
on us, isn’t it?” I wondered if that was the idea. I shook my head. “We’re better than that, people.”

That broke the tension, or rather broke it enough for us to stop glaring at each other.

Ariel stood. “It’s late. I think I’ll head to bed. So, good night, everyone. We’ll all feel better in the morning.”

Jerome and Lee followed. Then Conrad. Then Tina and Jeffrey, glancing at those of us remaining as they went to the stairs,
frowning.

Anastasia and Grant didn’t look away from each other. Epic staring match.

“Anastasia?” Dorian said.

“It’s all right. You and Gemma go on.” Dorian touched the younger vampire, and the two of them walked arm in arm to the basement.
“Gordon, you’re probably tired. Why don’t you call it a night?” And amazingly, the PA listened to her, wandering to the back
room and leaving the front of the house without a camera operator.

“Kitty, would you give us some privacy, as well?” Anastasia said. Hint hint.

“Oh no,” I said. “Somebody’s got to stick around and keep you guys from killing each other.”

Her lips flickered a smile. “You really think you could stop us?”

She was right. Both of them could knock me aside, werewolf or no. “I’m not leaving,” I said, no matter how unable I was to
back up my bravado.

Didn’t matter; she proceeded to ignore me.

“Odysseus Grant,” the vampire said, in the way of a judge preparing a verdict.

The magician met her gaze, didn’t flinch. Shocking, astonishing—vampires had power in their gazes. Grant didn’t seem to care.
Her gaze didn’t affect him.

I didn’t necessarily want to be here for this. They faced each other in some kind of silent, telepathic battle.

“You’re going to ask me about Roman,” Grant said finally. He started pacing, a few steps one way, then back. Calculated, intimidating.
“Has he contacted me. Am I working for him. Will I report to him about you. Will I finish you for him.”

“You can’t finish me.”

“The difficulty is, I have some of the same questions about you. What are you working for?”

“Not
who
am I working for?” she said, her voice smooth as silk. He nodded, the barest inclination of his head. “So, are you working
for Roman? Has he sent you to kill me?”

“Why should I answer your questions when you haven’t answered mine?”

“You guys are idiots,” I said. They both looked at me like they’d forgotten I was there. Or like they’d expected me to stay
polite and quiet. To merely witness.

Didn’t they know me better by now?

“You’re the two most powerful people in this house, but that doesn’t automatically make you rivals, does it? So can you please
just lay out what you’re really worried about and quit with this clandestine bullshit?” Like my bitching would really get
them to be reasonable.

And yet, after a moment, Grant said, “All right. I learned about Roman last year—with Kitty’s help, I might add. I learned
that he controlled Las Vegas—my city—through two different vampires, different fronts that hid his identity. An obfuscating
sleight of hand that I can almost appreciate. But I don’t, because this is a being who is consolidating power, who doesn’t
want people to know he’s consolidating power. I’m trying to learn more about him. Now, perhaps I should apologize for my suspicion,
but you’re a vampire, an old one, and it’s more likely that you’re another front acting on his behalf than an independent
force acting against him, as I am. There it is. I’ve laid it all out.”

She considered him. “Telling me exactly what I’d like to hear. What would show you in the best light in my eyes.”

“Assuming we’re both telling the truth, we’re both working for the same thing,” Grant said.

“Assuming,” she said, painstakingly polite.

“Wait a minute,” I said, raising my hand. Thinking hard—I had to get the thought out before I lost it. This was important.
“Why is this about Roman? How would he know about this crazy little reality show, and why would he even care? If he wanted
to go after you all, or recruit you, or whatever, why would he do it here? Unless—unless the whole show is a front.”

Grant had said it himself: fronts behind fronts behind fronts again. This was exactly how Roman operated. Now they were both
looking at me, and not as an annoyance. Rather, I was suddenly interesting to them.

The magician followed the thought through. “If someone like Roman wanted to remove some of his rivals, getting them in one
place like this is the perfect opportunity.”

“Jerome and I found a campsite out in the woods. Like someone’s been out here watching the place.”

“Roman wouldn’t go through all the trouble,” Anastasia said. “Would he? That would mean Provost is the one working for him.”

I looked away. “I don’t know. It’s crazy. I’m too full up with conspiracy theories right now. But if you’re both working against
Roman, you play into his plans by fighting with each other.”

“Roman’s plans stretch across centuries,” Anastasia said. “Nothing’s too far-fetched.”

“If we’re right, what do we do about it?” Grant said.

“We watch,” she said. “We wait.”

“Ah, the vampire way,” I said. “I don’t have that much time. I’m going to poke the wasp nest.”

I stood and went to the back of the lodge, to Provost’s production room.

G
rant and Anastasia didn’t stop me when I went to the back of the lodge, but I imagined them exchanging one of those “there
she goes again” looks.

It was late. Really late. But I had a feeling Joey Provost was still awake and watching the footage we’d produced, cooking
up new angles and sensationalist storylines. No time like the present to bug him. Besides, if he had been watching the current
conversation via one of the remote cameras and microphones, and he was part of some kind of conspiracy, I wanted to get him
before he came up with a cover story to deny it all. I wanted to catch him flat-footed.

I knocked on the library door. Behind it, I could hear an audio track and hushed voices under it. I knocked again and waited.

Amy, who must have been the one on duty with the monitors tonight, finally opened the door.

“Yes?”

“I’d like to speak to Joey,” I said.

“Er, ah—” She glanced over her shoulder. Looked like she was thinking about whether she’d screw up by letting me talk to Provost—or
by not letting me talk to him. “Is there a problem?”

“Oh, not really. I just have a couple of suggestions for him. You know. To really make the show pop.” Heh. I knew just enough
of the lingo to make me dangerous.

“What is it?” Provost called from inside.

I preempted Amy by calling back, “It’s me! I wanted to talk to you for a sec. If that’s okay.”

Provost appeared at the door then, and Amy scampered away and out of the cross fire.

“Kitty! What can I do for you?” He pretended to sound happy to see me. However, the tension in his face showed annoyance.

“Hi. I’m just here breaking the fourth wall. Or fifth wall. I’m not really sure how the metaphor applies here.”

“Is there something wrong? What do you need?”

“I have a little theory I want to run by you.”

He stepped out of the library and closed the door behind him. We were standing in an isolated corner now, watching each other,
waiting.

I said, “Are you really working for SuperByte Entertainment? Or do you report back to someone else, and there’s an ulterior
motive to all this?”

He chuckled. “That’s kind of crazy-sounding,” he said.

“Yeah, I know. But look at it from a certain point of view. You’ve gathered together almost all the public movers and shakers
who have anything to do with the supernatural, who personally know lots of others. And now you’re tracking their every move,
recording their scheming. And it’s like you’re gathering information. Or waiting for something to happen.”

“Like what?”

“That’s just it, I don’t know. But do you by any chance know a vampire named Roman?”

His expression turned thoughtful. I couldn’t tell whether I had touched a nerve or not; he was unreadable. “No. But I’d sure
love to meet him. Maybe bring him on if we do a second season.”

That would be so very bad… “It’s not that I’m accusing you personally of anything. But I wonder if we’re all dupes, and there’s
someone who’s manipulating all of this. A puppet master pulling the strings.”

He stared at me, and I couldn’t tell if he thought I was crazy, or if
he
was the crazy one, I’d gotten everything right, and he was about to go gonzo on me.

Finally, he chuckled nervously. The look in his eyes was spooked. So, he thought I was crazy. I could live with that.

“I suppose you’d have to develop a pretty good imagination, and a pretty healthy paranoia, given what you are,” he said. “You’d
have to believe in the unbelievable.”

It wasn’t a denial. He didn’t give me the smarmy Hollywood reassurances I expected. We continued sizing each other up.

“I guess if you really were in on some kind of conspiracy, I couldn’t expect you to come out and admit it. Maybe I just wanted
to see the look in your eyes. Just in case.”

The smile still looked nervous. Which was probably understandable, given a werewolf was standing here accusing him of plotting.

“There’s no conspiracy,” he said. Then his expression brightened. “But if you want to play that up, that could be a great
thread for the show. I’ll mention it to the editors. We could get this whole suspense-thriller thing going.”

That
was the response I should have expected. “Okay. You do that.”

“Now, if you don’t mind, I need to get back to it.” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder to the library. I waved a quick farewell
and trundled back to the living room.

“Well?” Grant said when I’d returned.

“I think he thought I was crazy,” I said. “Oh well. I had to try it.”

Anastasia tilted her head. “Should we consider that maybe he’s a really good actor?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I guess we’re back to watch and wait.” They still held themselves in wary stances. But at least they
weren’t poking at each other anymore. “You guys are done with all the veiled accusations?”

Anastasia’s lip curled. “For now.”

I threw up my hands and marched upstairs.

A
gain, I awoke far too early, and far too grouchy. I was having nightmares about Roman and thinking too much about vampire
conspiracies.

I went downstairs to get the coffeemaker started. It wouldn’t turn on. In fact, the whole kitchen was quiet, still—no hum
from the refrigerator, no rattle from the furnace. I tried the light switch—nothing. The lodge ran on a combination of solar
power and gasoline generator. Something must have gone out.

I went to the library door and knocked. Not that Provost and company would be at work this early; I wasn’t surprised when
no one answered. I went in. A trio of chairs sat in front of wide tables, filled with TV monitors and equipment. All the monitors
were dead—nothing was on, not even the red lights on the power strips. Upstairs, Provost and his production crew were using
the three rooms at the end of the hallway. I went to Provost’s door next. I knocked—and got no answer.

“Kitty, what’s wrong?” Grant stood halfway down the hall, near his own room. He was neatly dressed as always. I wondered if
he ever changed clothes and went to bed.

“I don’t know,” I said. “The power’s gone out. I was going to tell Provost, but I can’t find him.”

Brow creased thoughtfully, he went to the light switch at the top of the stairs, flipped it a couple of times. Not because
he didn’t believe me, I was sure. He just had to try it himself. Nothing happened. “Odd,” he said.

I leaned close to the door and called, “Joey?” I took a chance and cracked the door.

The room was empty, the beds undisturbed. The other two crew rooms were also empty, though suitcases sat in the corners and
clothes lay on one of the beds. Grant joined me, looking into the rooms over my shoulder.

“Thoughts?” I said. He shook his head, pensive. I squeezed around him and went back downstairs, to retrieve the satellite
phone from the library. It ran on batteries, and it was time to make a call.

I looked, searching all the shelves, the tables, behind equipment, under cameras, in drawers. Then I searched the living room,
under cushions, behind chairs and sofas. I opened every drawer and cupboard in the kitchen. Grant joined me in the middle
of the search.

“I can’t find the phone,” I said.

“That’s not good,” he said, his expression unchanging.

“Should we check on the generator? Maybe we can get the power back, then figure out where Provost and company went.” Maybe
they were off on a nature hike.

“I think it’s in the shed,” he said.

Grant and I went out the front door, on our way to the shed at the side of the lodge. I stopped on the porch, hardly noticing
the magician crowding behind me. I’d frozen, because I was staring at Dorian’s body, lying on the ground by the porch.

P
art of the railing around the porch had broken. It looked like the nails or the joints had come loose from the posts and the
whole thing toppled to the ground. And it looked like Dorian had been leaning on it when it happened. Stepping out on the
porch, I looked over the edge and saw him, lying still and crumpled on the ground. Dark blood pooled by his head. I could
smell his body cooling, and his heart was silent.

Of all the stupid, ugly accidents. “He came out here sometimes,” I said weakly. “To watch the sunrise.”

I went down the steps, approached Dorian, looked back at the porch, trying to figure out what had happened. He’d been leaning
on the railing. Maybe it had just given way. He fell wrong, hit his head, maybe even hurt his neck. A stupid accident.

“Kitty?” Grant said. He came down the steps to join me, making the same quick examination I did.