His eye bulge. “What?”
“Let’s measure the bite. I guarantee the teeth won’t be the same distance apart. The bite will be different. Scent is a small thing to change … creating an identical copy would take time the witch didn’t have.”
I see Marcellus smirk in the background. “Trust me, I would’ve known if anyone had come close enough to steal something as essential as hair or bodily fluid.” Vamps were weird about those things. They were precious and personal.
“The morgue has it,” he says glumly. “We compelled it so they’d believe it was a drug overdose.”
“Guess we’ll all be taking a ride.” I’m not about to let any of them out of my sight until we exonerate Marcellus.
An hour later we’re leaving the meat locker in the basement of the local police department with a reluctant agreement that Marcellus didn’t commit the crime.
“We got lucky this time,” Cristobal states. “This cannot continue. We’re going to run out of ways to exonerate ourselves.”
“I know.” I rub my eyes. They feel like they’re full of coffee grounds. The witch is still at large, more powerful than ever, and we’ve just acquired ourselves an enemy.
Worst. Saturday. Ever.
***
I work the curl enhancing serum into my hair, dragging out the time. I arrived here sticky with sweat, frustrated by the witch eluding us, and exhausted from the wringer the girls put me though. They aren’t fans of my secrecy.
Peering in the mirror, I realize I’ve lost weight since coming home. My collarbone is protruding, and dark circles are forming under my eyes. I’m feeling the pressure. I’m like a wishbone being pulled at from both sides. I have to be there to whip my family into shape with Tante Odette fighting me every step of the way. Meanwhile, I’m trying to bond with the Court, earn respect, and hunt down a homicidal Youngling and the witch controlling them. A person can only stretch so far.
I shove the thoughts away. I’m running on fumes. We stumbled into the house around three o’clock, and I’m already back up after six hours of sleep. Now I have to go play nice and present my findings.
“You’re tired.”
I glance over at Cristobal and smile. “Yeah, it happens to us humans. Remember?”
“Let me help you.”
“If by help you mean give me some of your blood, no thanks. It’s not like an energy drink.”
He holds out his wrist. “It could be.”
“It’ll strengthen the bond we’ve yet to fully deal with, and I’m not into casual blood exchange.”
He growls. “You’re always so stubborn. How can I take care of you when you fight me at every turn?”
“You want to take care of me your way. You have to do it my way.”
“I thought relationships were about compromise.”
“There are always nonnegotiables.” I fluff my hair and roll my shoulders. I’m dressed in a pair of black pajama pants and a matching tank top with a black cat with green eyes. This is as good as its going to get at ten in the morning on my day off. “Did you get everyone together?”
“They’re waiting for you.”
“Joy of joys.”
His lips twitch upward.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I turn my body to face him.
He places his hands on my hips. “Your discomfort? No. But your integration into the core group of people I hold dear, yes.”
“Silver-tongued devil.” It’s impossible to stay angry with a man who wields words like a poet from days long gone.
“Perhaps. Are you ready?” He offers his hand.