Kitty and the Dead Man's Hand (Kitty Norville 5)

“Yes I can. It’ll be funny.”

He gave me a raised eyebrow that suggested he disagreed.

I rolled my eyes. “I’ll try not to bang my head on the table.”

“I can’t wait ’til next week,” he said, shaking his head, still grinning.

I was starting to think Las Vegas was a bad idea. More like a train wreck than a publicity stunt. This time next week, we’d know for sure.

I couldn’t keep the Las Vegas trip secret. We had to do a lot of publicity if this was going to work. Generate a lot of interest. I should have been pleased that people were hearing about it. It meant the publicity machine was working. But there were a few people I wished weren’t paying quite so much attention.

While I was walking out of the KNOB building, not half an hour after the end of the show, my cell phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Kitty. It’s Rick.”

I groaned, because while I liked Rick, him calling meant trouble. Rick was the newly minted vampire Master of Denver. I was still getting used to the idea. Still trying to figure out if he was going to stay the nice, interesting guy he’d been before—even if he was a five-hundred-year-old vampire—or if he was going to get all pretentious and haughty. I’d just touched the surface of vampire politics. It was like any other politics, bitchy clique, or virulent board meeting. Vampires may have been immortal, but they were still human, and most of them still acted like it when it came to organizing themselves. But with vampires, the players involved could stretch their Machiavellian intrigue over centuries. The Long Game, they called it, predictably. On some levels it made them myopic. On others, it made them incomprehensible.

He chuckled. “It’s nothing serious, I promise.”

Which actually was helpful, since I’d basically agreed to help keep him as Denver’s Master should the need arise. The devil you know and all that. This call must have meant that Denver wasn’t under attack and he didn’t need my help.

“Sorry. I’m still a little twitchy, I guess.”

“I don’t blame you. I’m just calling to see if you can do me a favor.”

“If I can. If it’s reasonable.”

“I hear you’re going to Las Vegas next weekend.”

“You heard the show, did you?” I said.

“It’s a great idea. But why Las Vegas? Why not LA or New York?”

Why did I feel cornered by that question? Why did I start blushing? “Why not Las Vegas?”

“You’re going to elope, aren’t you? You and Ben.”

I turned flustered. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Congratulations, at any rate.”

“Thanks. So what’s this favor?”

“Can we meet somewhere?”

I had this suspicion that vampires, at least the old ones, had an aversion to technology. Rick claimed to have known Coronado. On that scale, the telephone was still a flashy newfangled device. They preferred talking in person. Also, talking in person meant they could use their weird vampiric influence, a kind of hypnotism that left their victims foggy-brained and helpless.

“Rick, I’m sorry, I don’t have time to go traipsing all over Denver. Can’t you just tell me?”

“How about I stop by your office tomorrow evening?”

He wasn’t going to let me say no. “Make it Monday evening. Don’t make me work on a weekend.”

“Right. I’ll see you then.” He hung up.

I drove home, annoyed. Eloping in Vegas was supposed to simplify matters, and here it was, turning into a circus. City hall was starting to look pretty good. My bad attitude went away, though, when I walked through the door and Ben greeted me with a kiss that lasted longer than I could hold my breath. I sank into his embrace.