Kicking It(61)

She opened her messenger bag and pulled out a magazine, which she placed on the table.

It was a copy of the Chicago World Weekly, a gossip magazine. With vampires being at our most popular, the Weekly kept paparazzi stationed outside the House and followed us around town. In this particular issue, my face stared back at me, my eyes hidden by dark glasses, and I was wearing stilettos and jeans that couldn’t have been any tighter or more flattering.

But the denim was hardly the point.

Someone had scattered thick red ink across the page, so it looked like my body was riddled with bullet holes. And scratched across the bottom of the cover was a message:

Dearest Rose:

Madmen know nothing, but I know everything.

Come home, Rose.



I pushed down a bolt of recognition—and fear. That was a name I hadn’t heard in a long time, hadn’t expected to see again, and shouldn’t be seeing now.

I pushed the magazine closer to Luc for his review.

“Where did you find this?” I asked her.

“On my bed,” Rachel said, nibbling her lip nervously. “In my house. Why, Aunt Lindsey? Are you in trouble? How did they know we were related? And who’s Rose?”

“I’m not in trouble,” I firmly said. “This is from someone trying to cause trouble. Someone from my past. They left it with you because they knew you’d come to me, and they knew I’d pay attention.”

“What kind of trouble?” she asked.

“I’m not sure. Not exactly.” But it was serious enough that they’d mocked up a magazine and delivered it to my niece. I made a quick decision. “How did you get here?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again, confused by the sudden change in topic. “I drove. Emily let me borrow her car. Why?”

“Because I want you to stay at the House for a few days while I deal with this.” I put my hand on hers, could feel her trembling with fear, and that killed me. My past, my issues, shouldn’t be used against her. That wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t how the game was played.

“Get your car warmed up,” I said. Her chaotic emotions—fear for herself, concern for me, and a small stitch of intrigue—bobbed at the edge of my consciousness. “Pull up right in front of the House’s gate. I’ll get my car and follow you back to the house. You can drop off Emily’s car and pick up some clothes.”

Rachel was a good girl—a smart girl—and she knew when to get moving. She rose and nodded, slinging the messenger pack over her shoulder. “I’ll be out front.”

I waited until she’d disappeared into the hallway before looking back at Luc.

“That damn magazine cover,” I said, a headache beginning to throb behind my eyes. “I should have known it would lead to something nasty. I should have been more careful.”

“You know what this is,” Luc said, his voice infinitely calmer than mine. But that was his job, after all—responding to crises.

“Just an idea.”

He looked at me for a moment. “This is about New York,” he concluded. “When you were still ‘Rose.’”

I nodded. I’d been born in Iowa, but the Midwest hadn’t been exciting enough for the vampire who’d made me, Delilah. She preferred the freedom and excitement of New York. New York vampires had rejected the Greenwich Presidium, our former European overlord, and the House system it spawned. In Delilah’s opinion, life was better with freedom. So I’d learned how to be a vampire in a coven that didn’t care about anyone else, human or vampire. We partied until dawn, drank bathtub gin in speakeasies, danced with writers and artists. I took my immortality to heart, and I tested the boundaries.

Luc and I had known each other long enough that I’d given him the flavor of my past in the Big Apple, told him about Prohibition, gangsters, jazz.

“I still can’t imagine you as a baby vamp in New York or otherwise. You have an old soul.”

“I have an old soul because I’m old,” I said. “I mean, you know, for a twenty-nine-year-old.”

“Of course,” Luc said lightly, but his eyes were narrowed with concern. “And the threat?”

That, I wasn’t ready to talk about. Wasn’t ready to think about. “It’s a long story, and I need to get going.”

“Then you can tell me on the way to Rachel’s house.”

“That’s not necessary,” I said, my tone clipped. I was shutting down, and I knew it. Shutting down and shutting him out, preparing to focus on the task at hand.

But Luc insisted. “Going without me isn’t an option.” He stood up and grabbed his coat from the back of the chair behind his desk. “Let’s go.”