The Last of the Red-Hot Vampires

"I'm not sure. It just seems to me…" He frowned at the door. "I am going back. You and Sarah take the car back to the pub."

"No!" I said, unhappy with the thought of separating. "You can't go back in there!"

"Sweetling, I haven't survived as long as I have by being reckless. I know a thing or two about getting around unseen." He gave me a quick kiss and turned back to the door.

I grabbed his arm to stop him. "My fog is gone. You can't stealth around the Court in full daylight!"

"It'll be no different than running from a building to the car. I have my hat—I'll be careful."

"Fine, if you insist on going, then we'll go with you. Let me yell for Sarah—"

"No, I will do this alone. You two go ahead without me."

"Why?" I asked, hurt by his exclusion.

He took my face in his hands, kissing the frown between my brows. "Because there is a slight, a very slight, chance I will be caught. The Court can do nothing to me, but you have too much to lose to risk visiting there again. I will speak with Terrin, then leave immediately."

"We just talked to him. Why do you want to see him again?"

His eyes were a light shale grey. "Because I dislike being made to act the puppet, and I think he knows who's behind that feeling. Portia, you must trust me—I am not going to put myself or you at risk. I simply want to ask a few more questions."

"But—"

"Go," he said, giving me a push toward the door that led out of the subbasement. "I will be with you shortly."

"And just how do you expect to get back if we take the car?" I asked, my hands on my hips. Theo could be the most fabulous man alive, but he was also one of the most frustrating.

"There's a magical thing known as a taxi," he answered, his lips curling into a smile. "You just call them up, and they take you to wherever you wish to go."

"Oh, very funny. Fine. Go off on your own on mysterious errands, and don't include me. See if I care, you incredibly annoying man!"

I love you, too, he said, his laughter soft in my mind as I made my way up out of the bowels of the castle.

"If he wants to be that way," I said, slamming the car door shut on the questions Sarah had been peppering me with as we left the castle, "then so be it. We'll just go ahead and solve the whole thing while he's off doing his lone-wolf act."

"Atta girl," Sarah replied, pulling a U-turn to get us onto the road back to our town. "What's next?"

I pulled out the packet of maps given to us by the local auto association. "I believe a little visit to the town of Newberry is in order."

Chapter 20

"That's it, number twelve. Boy, that's a mess, huh?"

"Very." I examined the outside of the small house that sat across the street. A black wrought-iron fence lurched drunkenly around a small garden that was more weeds than flowers, tall grass sheltering what appeared to be a rusted wheelbarrow. Butterflies provided brilliant spots of color as they flitted about the yard. "It's not exactly what you'd expect from someone who used to live in the Court, is it?"

"I don't know," Sarah answered thoughtfully as we got out of the car. "I suppose once you'd lived in heaven, anything else would be…crap."

The battered gate screeched painfully as I pushed it open, making my way through cast-off garden implements and boxes of unnamed refuse to the dirty front door.

"You're not just going to knock, are you?" Sarah asked as I raised my hand to do just that.

"Of course I am. What did you think we were going to do here?"

"Well, I don't know." She clutched her hands together in an agitated manner. "I thought maybe we'd stake out the house for a bit, and watch to see where Milo goes, and who he meets, and things like that. That's what I'd do, anyway."

"This isn't one of your books, Sarah, it's real life, and we don't have the time to play private detectives." I knocked on the door, taking a deep breath to calm my suddenly twitchy nerves.

"Yes? What is it?" The door opened, Milo's wife visible as she frowned out from the depths of the entrance. For a moment, I thought I saw a flash of surprise in her eyes, and I was overcome with a sense of similarity, a déjà vu that sent a skitter of goose bumps up my arms.

"Hello. You probably don't remember me, but my name is Portia Harding. My friend Sarah and I were at the ghost-hunting event last night."

She didn't so much as bat an eyelash. "Yes?"

I trotted out my friendliest smile. "I wondered if we could have a word with your husband?"

"Milo?" She frowned, giving us a look that expressed all sorts of suspicions. "I suppose so."

"Thank you—" I started to walk to through the door, jumping back when she closed it literally in my face. "Well, damn!"

"She isn't the friendliest person in the world," Sarah said behind me. "Wouldn't chat at all during our time at the mill. Mr. Richings told me he thought she was just shy, and that she'd probably loosen up once she started making regular runs with the group."