“Short version: everything.”
“And the long version?”
“I’m too hungover for the long version.”
“Gimme the CliffsNotes, then.”
I pried myself off the dresser and started sorting through a drawer. “Let’s just say, it looks like my luck runs in the family.”
“Ouch.”
I went back into the bathroom to change, and this time, Billy left me alone. I pulled on an old pair of khaki shorts and tried a couple of different shirts, finally settling on one with orange and white stripes. It was soft, thin cotton with a mock turtleneck and no sleeves. It had been part of my work wardrobe, worn under a jacket to keep me from dying of heatstroke in the Atlanta summers, and it looked a little dressy for the shorts. But it was better than announcing my evening’s activities to everybody I met.
Only now that I was dressed, I found that I didn’t really feel like meeting anybody. I kind of felt like going back to bed. I walked into the bedroom, yawning. “What time is it?”
Billy looked up from his card game. “Four a.m.”
I sighed in relief and fell face-first onto the bed. Jonas was coming at one for our lesson, and I had nothing to do until then. And nothing sounded pretty damn good right now.
“Move over,” I told Billy, because he was hogging the bed as usual. He gave me maybe another two inches of space, also as usual. I turned onto my side, since it was easier than arguing.
The room was dark but the bed was spotted by watery blue-white rectangles, the light shadows from Billy’s cards. They moved across the duvet as he played, silent, intent. For about half a minute.
“You can call him what you want, but he’s still a monster,” Billy said, because of course this wasn’t over. “They all are.”
“I don’t know why you hate vamps so much,” I said sleepily. “What’d they ever do to you?”
“They’re creepy.”
“They are not.”
“Like hell.”
I didn’t point out the irony of this coming from a guy who would send most people screaming in terror if they could see him, because the door cracked open. A thin sliver of slightly less dark leaked in from the hallway and fell over the bed. It highlighted dust particles dancing in the air and a massive head poking around the doorjamb.
“Hey,” Marco said softly, like he thought I might already be asleep.
“Hey, yourself.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“You have fun?”
“Yeah.”
“Thought so.” I couldn’t see his expression, but his voice was smug.
It would have been weird coming from a human, but vamps got a lot of their self-worth from their masters. Anytime Mircea did something well—negotiated a treaty, got recognition from the Senate, banged the Pythia—their egos all got a boost. In a real sense, when you dated a master vamp, you dated his entire family. All of whom thereafter took a proprietary interest in your business.
It was something I tried hard not to think about.
“You hungry?” Marco asked. “We got pizza.”
Actually, I thought one more bite of anything, and I might just pop. “I’m good.”
“Beer?”