Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
“It’s a fuckin’ tragedy,” Zee said, standing by the edge of a swathe of burned timbers still radiating heat and the occasional ember.
“I know, it’s terrible.” Poor Zander didn’t have anywhere to call home anymore.
“All those antique dildos. Gone.”
“Uh . . . yeah. Tragic.”
A few of the pack members ambled through the cabin’s remains, kicking over charred timbers and poking bits of half-burned, brightly colored furniture, but the only solid thing left of Zander’s home was the stone fireplace. Unfortunately, Zander’s collection had melted in the inferno, so all that was left were colorful splodges that could pass for melted candles.
Zee spotted Victor picking through the debris, then he grinned at me. “We still got our antique dick.”
We did, but Zander’s home was gone. He’d probably be able to stay at the motel, but if the pack didn’t want him back, his options seemed slim.
It wasn’t right that bad stuff happened to nice people.
Someone or something had set the fire deliberately. But why? Why go to these lengths? Was it just because Zander was different, just a random encounter, or had the loup-garou—if that’s what had done this—needed the cabin and Zander destroyed?
“It’s not right,” I huffed.
“Nope. And do they care?” Zee gestured at the packmates. “You guys need to get onto this.” He’d raised his voice, making the werewolves take notice. “You let this happen to one of your own in your back yard? What the fuck is wrong with you? You gotta get a grip and stop this shit. Find whoever did this and make them pay!”
“Uh, Zee? That’s kinda our job.”
“And we are fuckin’ on that. Right now.” He pointed a finger at them all in turn. “We will save the day.”
The werewolves went back to rifling through Zander’s things and collecting anything salvageable, hopefully to give back to him after he’d recovered.
Victor made his way over. “There’s nothing more we can do here. Let’s regroup back in our room.”
After we’d hiked back to the motel and Zee had helped himself to another pack of Oreos, Victor lingered by the window. He perched his ass on the sill and hmmmed , deep in thought to the sound of Zee’s munching.
“Do you guys think this all feels a bit strange?” I said from my spot on the end of the bed.
“Indeed.” Victor looked up. “We’re missing something.”
“Seems like an average Tuesday to me.” Zee tossed another Oreo between his sharp teeth.
“Are you supposed to eat the merchandise?” Victor asked him.
“My agent didn’t say I couldn’t.”
“Zander has lived in relative harmony in his pink cabin in the woods for months, but the moment we visit him he gets attacked. That timing is unlikely to be a coincidence.”
“You think we’re being watched?” Zee asked.
“I’m certain of it. And whoever burned that cabin and attacked us didn’t want us speaking with Zander. He must know something.”
If the attacker learned Zander was alive, they might strike again. “Zee, we should take the van and go visit Zander. See if he knows anything that might help.”
“I’ll examine Cameron’s body,” Victor suggested. “Ascertain whether there’s anything that may have been missed or tampered with.”
I pushed from the bed, crossed the floor to Victor, and laid a hand on his arm. It hadn’t been long since he’d limped in here, beaten up and hurting. “Be careful. No more self-sacrificing heroics.”
His hand came down on mine and gave it a comforting squeeze. “Likewise, Adam.”
Zee huffed and headed for the door, rolling his eyes. “Don’t make it so we gotta save your ass again, vampire.”
“I will endeavor to oblige, demon.”
Zee had his hand on the door handle when a chirping from his pocket interrupted us. He pulled the phone free and grimaced. “It’s the hotel! What do I say?”
“Just tell them we’re on vacation.”
Zee pulled a disbelieving frown, but before he had a chance to ask for a better excuse the phone buzzed harder. Zee yelped. The phone jumped from his hand and clattered to the floor, and a misty haze of electronic static bubbled like smoke from inside, filling out into the figure of a man. A few seconds later and the ghostly apparition wore a pair of pressed black pants, a burgundy-red vest, and a dapper black bow tie. Slicked-back dark hair and piercing eyes speared into us like a slap to the face. Our djinn barman had arrived.
“What in the fuck is this shitheap?” Tom Collins said, recoiling at the sight of our room. “Even the stains have stains.”
I’d forgotten he was free range now, and could practically travel anywhere with a phone signal. “We’re on vacation.” I winced. “Remember?” I had talked with him about this—not about my brother, just that something dire had come up and we’d needed to leave town for a while—but something must have changed for him to be calling. Or he just felt like a rant.
Disgust was a whole new look for his resting AI-barman face. “You took a vacation in a hotel shittier than ours?” His lip curled as he gave our motel room a visual once-over, then made the same visual assessment of us. “Am I really goin’ to be the one to say it?”
“Say uh... say what?” Zee shifted his weight restlessly by the door.
“It’s better that you don’t,” Victor warned, probably for my benefit. So they knew this wasn’t a vacation? They’d always known. Everyone had known, of course they had. I really wasn’t very good at lying.
“I’ve worn shoes smarter than you three.”
“Do you even wear shoes?” Zee asked. “Like, actual real shoes?”
Victor sighed, already resigned to the incoming Tom Collins pep talk. “Interesting comparison?—”
Tom folded his arms angrily. “You leave the hotel at the crack of dawn, don’t tell anyone where you’re headed, and there’s some over-the-top nice guy asking after you who gives off more creeper vibes than Victor Reynard’s bloodsucking family. So, what in the flying fucking pixies is really going on... and if you feed me some bullshit line about needing a vacation I swear to the gods of djinn I will quit this shithole hotel and go?—”
Tom’s static figure vanished.
“Oops,” Zee said from his crouched position. He picked up the phone. “Just gonna turn it off. There we go. Ah, glorious fuckin’ silence. Also, was that gods of djinn or gods of gin? I feel like it’s an important distinction.”
“That won’t stop him for long,” Victor grumbled. “If he figures out where we are, he’ll call the reception desk.”
“There goes our discount.”
I chewed on my lip. There was a huge vacation-shaped elephant in the room. Someone was back at the hotel asking after us, and they all knew I knew who he was... Someone I was running from. This whole trip north was a lie.
Victor pushed from the sill. “As we were saying before being rudely interrupted by our Wi-Fi barman, I’ll examine the body, and you two speak with Zander and find out what he knows that the beast doesn’t want revealed.”
“Alrighty then! To the Murder Machine!” Zee was out the door and marching toward the van without a second’s hesitation.
I let out a sigh and smiled sheepishly at Victor. “Thank you.”
“As I said, we’re here to listen when you’re ready.”
I swept into his arms and hugged him hard. “You know when you protected me by luring the beast away?” I mumbled into his shirt. He always smelled so good—woody and spicy, cinnamon and pine.
“Of course.”
“This is like that.”
The weight of his hand stroking my hair had a throaty purr rumbling through me. “I understand, Adam.”
I had to pinch myself every day to believe Victor and Zee were mine and I wasn’t in some dream. I owed them so much. Without them, the SOS Hotel would not exist, and neither would I.
“Adam.” Victor brought his hand to my face and tilted my head up. His eyes tried to capture my heart—a heart he already owned. People said vampires were soulless, but that wasn’t true. They just hid their souls down so deep, where only they could keep them safe. But Victor showed me his now, and every time he looked at me like this. Like I was the special one.
His mouth ticked into a small, genuine smile. “I’ve always wanted to go on vacation to a pay-by-the-hour motel in the middle of the Pacific North West with a sex demon who exhibits an unhealthy obsession for Oreos and an exceedingly average human.”
“Oh . . . that’s good.”
Zee honked the van’s wheezy horn.
“That’s our cue,” Victor prompted.
After reluctantly extracting myself from his comforting hug, I gave him a soft, shy smile. We left the room together but split up outside—Victor headed left toward the bar, and I crossed the lot, approaching our minivan.
“You good?” Zee asked, when I climbed into the passenger seat beside him. He probably sensed he may have missed a moment.
Watching Victor stride across the lot, long hair messily restrained into a ponytail swishing against his back, I smiled after him. “Yeah.”
Zee pulled the van out of the lot, and we were on the road again.
“So...” Zee sang. “That creeper guy Tom mentioned?”
I side-eyed him. “Trust me. He’s nothing we need to worry about right now.”
“Okay then.” We drove a little way up the road before Zee blurted, “Because if anyone’s threatening you, don’t let my sunny disposition and amazing fuckin’ hair fool you. I will fly back there and fuck them over so hard they’ll be eating through a straw for the rest of their agony-filled days.” He flashed a murderous grin. “Just puttin’ that out there.”
“Thank you, Zee.”
Happy now that he’d issued some threats to kill, Zee settled into driving and I stared out the passenger window.
But if it came to a Zee and Victor showdown with my brother, they wouldn’t stand a chance.