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“That’s not the point,” she said airily. “Vampires deserve fair compensation. Don’t get me started on women’s rights.”
“Women’s rights have come a long way since you were born in the eighteenth century.”
“What do you need a potion master for?”
“Not just any potion master. I need Belinda Brite.”
“Dom. No.”
“She’s the best. The most precise I’ve ever come across.”
“You know she’s got her quirks.”
“And I’ve got mine. Get Belinda here—I don’t care what it takes.”
Vix hung up the phone. Despite her lack of concrete response, I knew she’d do what I asked of her. I paid her too well for her not to.
Unfortunately, it took two days for Belinda to make her way to my penthouse. Apparently she’d been on some expedition to retrieve a certain spice from Argentina for her exotic collection of rare herbs that she used in her fantastical potions.
In those two days, all had been relatively quiet on the home front. No news from my brother. No news from the reporter, obviously, since Briggs was still technically recovering in guarded captivity. Vix assured me that even once he was released, he wouldn’t be spewing more nonsense about Trixie. He wouldn’t even remember her.
Speaking of Trixie, she’d been quiet too. I wondered if she’d taken what I’d said to heart about a thank you letter and was biding her time, waiting for me to make my move in our new little war.
She could even be preparing a defense. Or a counterattack. Or maybe packing up her place so she could get a move on when her apartment was swept out from beneath her after fifty-something more days.
On the other hand, Lucas Paul the Third and Levian had hit the campaign trail hard. Their faces were everywhere, spouting the reasons people should vote for them. I’d stuck with Trixie’s style of saying no comment to anyone who asked.
Already, the hubbub had died down. It was pretty clear that there were only two real candidates in the running at this point, and the interest in me and Trixie was quickly waning.
The light rap on my door came on a bright morning while I was mid-sip of coffee that my housekeeper had left warming for me. Not because I needed the caffeine, but because I was bored and stressed and looking for something to do with my hands.
Belinda Brite entered my apartment in a flurry of sparkles and pixie dust, literally, seeing as that was her preferred method of travel despite its incredible unreliability. Only a potions master as confident as Belinda would risk leaving half her body behind to travel via pixie dust “just because it glittered”.
Belinda had purple tips at the end of her hair that sort of matched the hot pink velour tracksuit she was wearing. She didn’t look much older than Trixie, but because of her complex heritage—part pixie, part elf, part fairy—she was actually just a few decades younger than my three centuries.
“Alas, we meet again.” Belinda stopped moving, and the cloud of pink smoke behind her started to settle into a fine powder on the floor.
My housekeeper would have some questions.
“This better be good,” Belinda said. “You interrupted my tour of South America to come back to The Hollow.”
“I’m paying you handsomely.”
“You’ve got to stop using money as leverage for every relationship in your life.” Belinda peered through rainbow-colored frames at me. “It’s not going to get you very far in your personal relationships.”
“What the hell are you, part genie too?”
Belinda shrugged. “I’ve been around a long time, known you a long time, Dom. I’m not killing anyone for you. No matter the price.”
“That’s what you think of me, Bel?”
She put one hand on her hip and puffed her hip out to the side. “Like I said, I know you.”
“Actually, I don’t need anyone, um, un-alived,” I said, scratching at my hair. “I need a sort of complicated prank.”
Belinda’s pink-lined lips parted at me. “You called me up here for a prank?”
“I am paying you—”
