Guilty Pleasures   ::   Гамильтон Лорел

“Remember the houseyou nearly roasted down around us?”

“About two years ago. We killed six vampires, and two human servants.”

I walked past him and flopped onto the couch. “We missed one.”

“No, we didn't.” His voice was very precise. Edward at his most dangerous.

I looked at the carefully cut back of his head. “Trust me on this one, Edward. He damn near killed me tonight.” Which was a partial truth, also known as a lie. If the vampires didn't want me to tell the police, they certainly didn't want Death to know. Edward was a whole lot more dangerous to them than the police.

“What one?”

“The one who nearly tore me to pieces. He calls himself Valentine. He's still wearing the acid scars I gave him.”

“Holy Water?”

“Yeah.”

Edward came to sit beside me on the couch. He kept to one end, a careful distance. “Tell me.” His eyes were intense on my face.

I looked away. “There isn't much left to tell.”

“You're lying, Anita. Why?”

I stared at him, anger coming in a rush. I hate to be caught in a lie. “There have been some vampires murdered down along the river. How long have you been in town, Edward?”

He smiled then, though at what I wasn't sure. “Not long. I heard a rumor that you got to meet the city's head vampire tonight.”

I couldn't stop it. My mouth fell open; the surprise was too much to hide. “How the hell do you know that?”

He gave a graceful shrug. “I have my sources.”

“No vampire would talk to you, not willingly.”

Again that shrug that said everything and nothing at all.

“What have you done tonight, Edward?”

“What have you done tonight, Anita?”

Touchy, Mexican standoff, whatever. “Why have you come to me then? What do you want?”

“I want the location of the master vampire. The daytime resting place.”

I had recovered enough so that my face was bland, no surprise here. “How would I know that?”

“Do you know?”

“No.” I stood up. “I'm tired, and I want to go to bed. If there's nothing else?”

He stood, too, still smiling, like he knew I had lied. “I'll be in touch. If you do happen to run across the information I need … “ He let the sentence trail off and started for the door.

“Edward.”

He half-turned to me.

“Do you have a sawed-off shotgun?”

His eyebrows went up again. “I could get one for you.”

“I'd pay.”

“No, a gift.