"This—" Julian gulped, "is my Liege's chalice."

"That was a gift, actually, so it's mine. Now pour our guest some wine in it, you undescended sack."

"He requested—"

"It's part of a fucking set, isn't it?"

Julian's fingers strangled the stem of a golden wine glass. Sloane hadn't glanced over her shoulder at him once during their exchange, but still, I got the vibe she was fully aware of how her snark affected him. After a long moment of awkwardly pawing at himself through his trouser pocket – and poorly hiding it – he nodded at the back of her head and retreated from the sunroom. A minute later he reappeared, uncorking an entirely French labeled pinot noir that probably cost more than my rent.

Sloane's smirk was wide as Julian stretched across her to hand me the glass. I didn't stretch to meet him. Guy was just another a prick (with poor impulse control when it came to his prick).

"Excuse me. My master is waiting," he muttered, and left.

"It's difficult to find good help these days," Sloane said. "Nobody wants to work. They just want to be turned."

Julian had a chub for the vamp lifestyle, that was certain, but he didn't strike me as the freeloader type. Especially after the rant he went on about Lily in the car, using almost those exact words himself. He was very clearly their entitled vampy-simp forty something year old whipping boy working for every drop of blood they promised to drain from him. But that was none of my business, was it?

I leaned back in my wicker chair. A palm leaf smacked me in the face. The small room at the back of the house was, technically, an all-glass sunroom. Adorned with tropical plants and wicker furniture that had cushions with exotic prints. Despite the sun being long since set, the glass remained covered by thick black out curtains. They did little to keep out the chill. Newspapers and ancient issues of Vamp Vogue were mod-podged over the ceiling as well to filter out the daylight. Nobody, it seemed, was really tending to the plants. Many were wilted and brittle.

Sloane snapped her fingers and in shuffled Caleb. Seems he'd gotten a second wind. He dropped to his knees at the foot of her rocking chair and thrusted his quivering arms forward, bowing his head and presenting his near translucent wrists. The tube in his veins flopped like a flaccid penis.

There was a stopper at the end of the tube. One that practically advertised stolen from your local community blood drive. Sloane popped it off with her thumb.

"Cheers."

She even sucked on it like it was—"Ahem, cheers," I said, raising my glass.

Ruby blood flushed through Caleb's tube as Sloane slurped him like a crazy straw. And the boy was feeling it. He moaned heavily, head thrown back, eyes closed in a blissful surrender as his body trembled.

Hot. But pathetic. Kinky? Yeah. Creepy? Oh, heck yeah. In a sexy and yet still somehow uncomfortable to watch kind way. And the slurping? Gross. The teal lipstick stain left on the plastic tube? Yum. Wonder what Greg was getting up to with Dmitri right then. Had the boys also ordered the bottle service?

I was all set to drown these thoughts in the wine, but when I ran a thumb over the glass a crystal a thorn pricked me through my glove. Ouch. You'd think I'd learned my lesson on how to handle these after grabbing the one in—oh mother of goblin shits. A gold stem, engraved with trailing ivy and thorny roses, crystal glass, with a red stone embedded in the stem. I found a pair of these babies in Lily's apartment.

I think.

"How many in that set?"

Sloane removed her lips from Caleb's tube with a wet pop. "Not enough that I wouldn't notice when one or two go for a stroll."

"Thanks for the heads up, but you're in luck. I don't feel like dealing with red wine stains in my purse tonight. If it was a white," I shrugged. "Then you might have been out a third."

Blood dribbled down Sloane's chin. She tongued a few droplets from the rim of her devoted servant's feeding tube before pushing him away. Caleb obediently kneeled, head down at her feet. With the cuff of her silk sleeve, Sloane wiped the blood trail from her chin, her dark eyes hooded and locked on to me.

"You know a lot about my inventory?"

"I know what the spirits want me to—"

"So you know why my club got so tightly ass fucked by a raid last night."

"I—" were we only at the club just last night? "Called the night early. But I can't imagine why such an upstanding establishment would warrant a social call from the Magistrate. It's not like there was anything illegal happening. Not that I witnessed."

Lie. Lie. Lie. Unlicensed bloodletting. Unregistered donors. Over maximum feeders per artery capacity limits. Not to mention the murdered staff. But I'm hoping Sloane sensed the vibe. I wasn't a snitch. Neither was Greg. We were together all night. Well, most of the night.

My eyes, instinctually, flicked to the doorway.

Sloane noticed. She dragged her wicker chair a smidge further to her right, knocking into a dozing Caleb, and blocking any shot I could've had at view of the hall... or of escape. "Your boy's busy."

Heck. This was a trap.

Britney blabbed.

She spilled to us about Lily.

Sloane wouldn't've liked that.

"Not since that place reopened under my management have we ever been so much as nudged with a noise complaint. Bitch, you roll the fuck up and everything goes to dog shit in my pillowcase not an hour later. Tell me why."

"Ain't nothing but a heartache," I whispered into my wine, buying time with a sip. I could've really used a cigarette. Fought the urge to bite at my nails through the gloves as Sloane leaned in close, fangs protruding over her glittery lips, resting her elbows on her knees. Muscle flexed beneath her silk. Dang her arms were toned... toned enough to toss a body onto a roof.

Damnit. Don't botch this, baby girl. Remember, you came in here, to this secluded room with a single entrance, to question the vampire about a missing barista. Brimstone burning in heck I am stupid.

In a distant part of the house, a creature wailed. Loud and agonizing. Could've been a poltergeist but judging from Sloane's eye twitch I'd guess it was Don Juan Dmitri. "Your husband's heartache, to be exact."

"My husband's heart is dust."

"He hired—"

"No, bitch, you do not work for some bumfuck private dickhead and who couldn't find his feet even if his shoelaces were tied together."

My gut tightened. That was uncalled for (and nonsensical). Greg's a good detective. Isn't he? He... uh. Well, he hasn't really found me out yet. Technically it was Phoebe who discovered I didn't have a Tourism & Entertainment license. He did make me break into Lily's apartment. Got us sort of kidnapped tonight, er, well, that might've been me, actually. There was that murder on the roof too. And he melted my brain...

Damn, girlfriend, what kind of horse did you back here?

Sloane scratched Caleb behind the ears and continued. "I'd sooner believe you were Magistrate. You're fucking useless enough."

I snorted.

"I strike you as a narc? Must've made a worse impression than I thought."

"It's the wolves then."

"I—what?"

The vamp balled her fists up tight, closing her fluttering eyelids. It looked almost if she was imagining herself strangling some unfortunate neck. Instinctively, I raised a hand to cover mine.

"Fine. She wants to be a sneaky bitch, sabotaging me and all I've been fucking working fucking for since I got fucking turned then you can give her a fucking message."

"Why does everybody think I work—"

"We're buying the building. Tell your alpha cunt that Dmitri is ready to sign as soon she finally gets serious as all fuck about our deal. The distractions have been removed—" A gust of wind rattled the glass walls. "— so she can either sign too or use the pen to go ass fuck herself."

Oh, come on. This was unicorn shit. I didn't work for no hairy werewolf pack, alright? I was a victim here! It was my big ass that's on the line if I couldn't pay my rent. One of those beasts killed my cat (sort of). I ground my already stinging thumb into a rose thorn.

Another pitiful yowl echoed throughout the house. It grated on my patience and nicotine craving.

"Yeah, he seems about as focused as a wizard taking the licensing exam." I grumbled. "Must be draining to share his devotion with his one true love. I can't for the death of me see what you see in him. Though my vision might just be bad."

Sloane clenched her jaw so hard it clicked. Was this a good sign? Was I riling her up enough to confess to a jealousy fueled double murder? Killing was still just as much a crime for vampires as it was for us breathing folk. Draining a meal to death, not so much, but breaking all of Britney's limbs like that? Tearing a hole out of Lily's side? How wasteful. The Magistrate would have a field day.

"I spy with my third little eye exactly what Lily saw in the old man. Lonely and loaded. A regular Saturday morning Looney Tune but at least generous in his gift giving." I took a gulp of wine and tried not to pay attention to the way my hand trembled. "Think I can get a refill over here? Jules, baby! You wouldn't believe the gossip that guy spewed. It's a wonder you all don't get scammed more often. Lucky you caught Lily before she made off the real estate savings."

Caleb peeked up through his shaggy hair at his mistress, sitting statuesque and eerily still, her gold earrings twinkling even in his low light. Witch tits.

"Unless it isn't luck," I sat up straighter, puffing out my chest like the hot idiot I am. "It just takes one to know one. Is that why Lily had to go? Dmitri showered her in your hard-earned affection," I raised my wine glass, "and golden trinket—"

The back of Sloane's hand struck my cheek before I could blink. Pixie dust! She flung me right off my chair, my hip slamming into the hard floor. I landed eye to eye with her stiletto. The wine goblet crashed and shattered onto the ground.

"You don't know shit," she said softly. "How dare you. I am honest businesswoman. I'm taking on the responsibility of a bloodline. Dmitri found me in the crowd, but I asked to be turned, not to be turned against for doing what needs to be done every time another naïve, pretty face has him feeling nostalgic and I fucking grind to keep this fucking bloodline fucking dignified so don't you fucking ever fucking call me a fucking crook. Fuck you."

For a moment, Sloane's boss bitch aura and glass cutting cheekbones collapsed. That contouring was good, but it betrayed her in this light, and I could make out the baby fat still in her cheeks. She was young when she died. Not much older than Lily.

From the ground, I also spotted the tattoo on her foot, probably etched before she turned, but I'm not sure how well vamps take to post-mortem ink. It was a blooming rose.

Huh.

"Lily wasn't the first girl Dmitri ever pulled that reincarnated wife gimmick on, was she?"

Sloane snapped her fingers. When Caleb didn't respond, she kicked him in the ribs. He coughed—I think she woke him—but obeyed when his mistress pointed for him to leave the sunroom. Once he was gone, Sloane sucked the drying blood off her sleeve.

"Neither the fuck was I," she said.