Page 9 of Bent Out of Shade
To my knowledge, the only other Ohrist vamp I knew was Zev’s descendent Celeste BatSila, who he’d had turned by a different vampire line. Lonestars had banned changing Ohrists some time ago, but Zev had his ways. Well, I handled Celeste just fine, so maybe Vincenzo’s additional powers wouldn’t be an issue.
“Is he expecting me at a specific time?” I snapped off the radio midway through breaking news about another gang member found dead.
“Yes. In an hour.” She gave me the address.
“Thanks for the notice.”
“You’re welcome. Take Emmett along as muscle.” She disconnected in typical Tatiana fashion without saying goodbye and before I could ask any further questions.
Without any inkling of the vampire’s Ohrist magic, it would be good to have backup, but why did BatXoha want us? Surely there was a magic fixer in Las Vegas.
More importantly, how should I dress to impress? This was my first client meeting in my new exalted position as one of the associates in Cassin & Associates.
I opted for a black pantsuit, my hair pulled back into a severe bun, and dark red lipstick: a look that my friend Mara at the law firm swore terrified the lawyers, visions of library hell dancing in their heads.
“Hey, Sades.” I poked my head in her bedroom. It was better for her to know the truth of my magic jaunts than worry that I was lying when I ventured to the grocery store.
My kid looked up from her laptop and made a face. “New bedtime look?”
“I have to meet with a prospective client. Lock up tight before you go to sleep or stay at your dad’s.”
She returned to her computer.
I braced a hand on the doorframe. “Did you hear me?”
“Yeah. You’re off running around with strange magic people, but I have to ask permission to play with new kids like I’m in preschool.”
My hand tightened on the wood. Her acting out was a relief and a gift. “Your dad and I want to know who you’re hanging out with, especially when they have magic.”
She rolled her eyes. “Why? You think I’m going to go all Bad Willow because of peer pressure?”
I do not want to regift my child. I do not want to regift my child. “Enough, Sadie,” I said in a hard voice.
She shrugged and started typing.
“I’ll see you later.” She didn’t answer. I didn’t expect her to.
I sat on the bottom stair for a few minutes. Then I got ready to meet a vampire.
Given I’d have to debrief with Tatiana afterward, I drove to her house in the swanky Shaughnessy neighborhood. For a world-renowned artist, her rustic Tudor Revival mansion in sedate colors evoked tea and cucumber sandwiches with the crusts cut off, not a passionate spirit and a wicked eye for detail. Her late husband, Samuel, had purchased it since his Jewish parents had been denied owning a home in this historically WASP-y neighborhood, but it was also excellent camouflage for the magic fixer.
Tatiana’s assistant, Marjorie, opened the door for me. A smart, sweet girl in her early twenties with a tendre for my golem partner, she put up with a lot of attitude from our boss, but after Tatiana had made her cry recently, the artist had been more respectful of the young woman.
“Hi, Miri. She’s in the kitchen.”
“Thanks, I’ll follow the sound of the typewriter.” I stepped inside, my flats slapping softly against the floor. The stilettos I’d purchased to originally go with this outfit would have completed the dominatrix vibe, but I could run in flats. Function over fashion. “Is the clacking driving you crazy?”
“Mildly. I’ve been stretching canvases and it’s not as noticeable up in the studio.”
“Is Emmett in the kitchen?”
“He’s getting ready.” Marjorie’s cheeks pinked and her eyes sparkled. “He’s been telling me all about his adventures with you.” Okay, this was too adorable. “He’s so brave.”
There was no follow-up comment of “You’re so brave too,” which told me everything I needed about what role I’d been relegated in these adventures. Well, we all exaggerated to impress our crushes. Emmett was pretty courageous, and hopefully he’d never be exposed like I was when I told Eli that I’d love to run a five-kilometer race with him on no notice because running was the best high ever.
“He really is.” I headed down the hallway.
Dusk had fallen outside the windows of the kitchen, and the mint-green cabinets, cherry-red furniture, and bold checkerboard floor were a cheerful haven against the darkening overcast sky.
