Blade Bound (Chicagoland Vampires 13) - Page 37

I nodded, tried to accept that. It was hard not to when looking up into those deeply green eyes. And I did have other things to worry about today. But it was hard. Hard not to think about the state of the world. Even if we were promising “for better or worse,” that didn’t mean I wanted “for worse” to become apocalyptically bad.

“We’ll protect the House,” Ethan said. “We’ll watch the video, discover how he avoided our security, and let your grandfather handle the rest of it.”

“You’re right,” I said. “You’re right. It’s our wedding night, and we can’t solve every problem for everyone.” Winston would have to find his own way. Maybe my grandfather’s office could help with that.

“We’re ready,” Luc said after a moment, looking up and around the room. Ethan and I walked to the sitting area, where leather chairs and couches surrounded a low table.

“We’ve pieced the vampire’s movements together from the various cameras,” Luc said, his face void of expression, clearly still upset about the security lapse. I could understand the feeling. “This is from four nights ago.”

He pressed a button and the video began, the screen filling with the shot of the House foyer. The camera was positioned in the middle of the space, angled down to catch the closed front door, bench of supplicants to the left, and desk to the right.

The front door opened, and our vampire walked in, the dark of night behind him. He moved to the front desk, signed in, took a seat on the bench beside four other vampires.

“He was a supplicant,” I said.

Luc nodded. “He signed in as Winston. Didn’t identify any last name or House, just ‘UNAFF,’ which I take to mean unaffiliated.”

The clock on the screen ticked along, half an hour, forty-five minutes, then a full hour, and still Winston waited. But if he was agitated—or experiencing the delusions—he didn’t show it. He looked bored and perturbed by the wait, but an hour on an uncomfortable bench would do that. And then I saw it.

“Zoom in on him,” I said. “On his right hand, if you can manage it.”

“Zooming,” Luc said, and the image grew closer. It was more pixelated, but the movement was clear.

“He’s hitting his leg with his fist,” I said, and drew my fingers together, demonstrated. “Not a tap, or a nervous habit. It’s irregular. And he’s putting some force behind it.”

“You’re thinking it’s a tic?” Ethan asked.

“This guy looks clean-shaven, reasonably put together, average appearance. And we know what he became. I’m wondering how much of it was in there before.”

He crossed his arms, then raised his right hand to his temple, knocked the side of his fist against his head. Just once, but once was enough.

Time passed, and the other four vampires left and were replaced, which presumably put Winston next in line for Ethan’s office. But then he looked at his wrist, and probably his watch, rose from the bench, and walked out the door.

“He didn’t sign out,” Malik said.

“No,” Luc agreed. “And he didn’t linger.” The video shifted to the House’s front lawn. The vampire walked down the sidewalk, disappeared through the gate. The video shifted again, and he continued down the street, disappeared into darkness.

“No further sight of him at the House this night,” Luc said, then glanced at Ethan. “Does he look familiar?”

“No. Not at all.”

Luc nodded. “But this is from two days ago.” The video shifted to the next segment, and the foyer appeared on the screen again.

The vampire walked in again. This time, he looked the way I’d seen him last night. Disheveled—in the same clothes he’d worn before, but in worse condition—his movements more erratic. His lips moved as if in silent conversation.

A different Novitiate was at the desk, so she wouldn’t have recognized him from the previous visit.

The vampire moved to the bench, took a seat. And the waiting began again.

He stayed seated but rubbed his temples vigorously, one foot tapping a quick and agitated tattoo. The vampire at the desk occasionally looked up but didn’t ask the man to leave or otherwise interact with him.

“We take all comers,” Ethan quietly said, gaze intent on the screen. “She wouldn’t have turned him away unless he was violent. As it was, he just seemed . . . nervous?”

“Afraid,” I agreed. “Or perhaps like he’s in pain, not that he’s planning to hurt anyone.” And he probably never had been. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, if his intent was to make the screaming stop.

“Still,” Malik said. “They could use more training at the front desk. I’ll make plans.”

Once again, time passed, and vampires who’d arrived before him left to talk to Ethan, then returned to the foyer and left the House.

Tags: Chloe Neill Chicagoland Vampires Vampires
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