Yeah, I was pretty sure Provost’s ulterior motive was to drive us all crazy, to see who snapped first. I hoped there wouldn’t be any blood when it happened; Provost was probably hoping otherwise.

In keeping with the seminocturnal schedule, I went to bed a few hours before dawn. My bedroom light had been off only twenty minutes when someone knocked on my door, very softly. If I hadn’t been awake and twitchy already, I wouldn’t have heard it. I could have called for whoever it was to come in, but I wasn’t feeling that trusting and open. I padded to the door and opened it a crack.

Tina stood outside, pressed close, almost pushing her way in. “Can I talk to you?”

“Yeah, of course.” I let her in and glanced behind her, expecting to see one of the PAs and a camera, but she’d managed to ditch them. I quickly closed the door.

Tina paced. She was wringing her hands, looking around like she expected something to jump from the walls at her. I turned on the bedside lamp, which gave just enough light to chase away shadows.

“Sit down,” I said, settling on the edge of the bed with enough room for her. “Still shaken up?”

She sat, sighed, but remained tense, bracing her arms on the edge of the mattress. “What do you know about Grant? I mean really know about him?”

Whatever was going on here, Grant must have been at the center of it, the way people kept asking about him. Was I going to have to sit him down and ask what he was cooking up?

“He’s a magician,” I said. “Really a magician. Not just stage tricks. He makes things vanish, he opens doorways to… to other places. He knows things. Does things that I’ve never seen before. I can’t explain it, but I always thought he was one of the good guys.”

Tina’s expression turned confused. “That sounds so… epic.”

“Yeah. You’d see why I’d rather think of him as one of the good guys.”

“I’ve heard of people like that,” she said. “But so much of it is stories. Dr. Dee, Aleister Crowley. They’re so shrouded in mystery no one knows what to believe about them. Everything gets written off as tall tales, larger-than-life lies. But you’re saying Odysseus Grant is for real?”

“Yeah.”

She leaned forward. “He’s making Jeffrey and me nervous. Jeffrey says the guy doesn’t even have an aura.”

“Then you know more about what he is than I do.”

“Kitty, he’s your friend and you went through something together, I understand that. But that hypnotism, or whatever it was, freaked me out. It’s not that he was inside my head, it’s like he’s still there. Poking around my senses, looking through my eyes.” The expression in her gaze was wild.

I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t begin to understand what she was experiencing. What was strange: I didn’t question what she had told me. Odysseus Grant was capable of anything. “Why would he do that?” I said.

“That’s what I wanted to ask you. Maybe he doesn’t trust me to tell the truth.”

“Maybe I could talk to him. Hell, maybe you should talk to him—he’s not a mean guy.”

“I can’t do that!” She leaned forward, setting her head in her hands. “He scares me.”

Enough. This was getting out of control. “Tina, I believe you when you say something’s going on. But I also think this whole situation is designed to manipulate us, make us paranoid until someone loses it and one of us shape-shifts or starts sucking blood or speaking in tongues. So we just need to keep it together.”

Straightening, she took a deep breath. “Okay. Right. You’re right. I’m not going to freak out. But you will talk to Grant?”

“Yes. Tomorrow.”

She leaned over for a hug, and I complied. Poor Tina. She must have been even more sensitive to living in a house full of weirdos than I was. All that strange psychic energy, with her in the middle of it. At least Jeffrey understood what she was going through. Jeffrey—I smelled him on her hair. Just a little. As if she’d been leaning on his shoulder. Aw… I didn’t say anything, but I wanted to. Later.

I loved the idea that at least one good thing might come out of this show.

Chapter 8

I couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning for a couple of hours. Maybe if I got up, took a walk, and drank another glass of wine, I could relax.

Outside, the air had a predawn chill, making my breath fog. I loved mornings like this, especially waking up outside after a full moon, naked, curled up with Ben, my skin tingling at the combination of warm bodies and cool air. I could enjoy the world as it seemed to pause and take a breath before my crazy life started up again. Watch the sky get light, try to notice the moment it turned from night to gray dawn to palest blue, then watch the sun rise.

I went down the path to the edge of the meadow. A mist lay across the valley, drifting over the surface of the lake, clinging to the grass in the meadow, lacework fog waiting for the sun to burn it off. Atmospheric rather than obscuring. I felt better, even if I wouldn’t be getting any more sleep.

Back at the lodge, Dorian was standing at the end of the porch, leaning forward against the railing and gazing out over the clearing. I scuffed my feet up the path to make noise, so I wouldn’t startle him. He glanced at me slowly, like I’d woken him from a spell.

“Hi,” I said. “I wasn’t sure I was ever going to see you in daylight, without the escort.”

He chuckled but didn’t offer any additional commentary. He might have been the quietest guy I’d ever met.

I should have left him alone to enjoy the moment, but I might not have another chance to talk to him without the vampires. I kept my distance, watching him watch the world. The morning sun was still low in the sky, but it turned the valley golden, the light seeming to paint every tree, every blade of grass. The sky was bright blue, and a hawk was soaring over the meadow.

“It’s a nice morning,” I said, wincing at the awkward conversational gambit.

“Yeah,” he said. “I like to do this sometimes. Stay up to watch the sunrise.”

“When Anastasia lets you off the leash?”

His smile turned wry. “It isn’t like that. I don’t have to ask her permission.”

“And you can leave her whenever you want?”

“I wouldn’t want to.”