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“No. I didn’t know either of them. I’m just running stardust.”
His eyes return to me. “You see, Lara, we both know you can do far more than sell stardust at parties. Maybe it’s time you realize that too.”
I give him a cold look. “I don’t pick sides. I walk my own path.”
“As much as you like to pretend otherwise, you don’t want to see this city burn. And war is never good for business.”
Maybe he’s right about that, but I’m not giving him the satisfaction.
“What do you want from me, Kosta?”
“Help me find Julian.”
“How?”
“You move through the city. People talk around you. Maybe you’ll hear something.”
“I wouldn’t count on it.” I start heading toward the door.
“It’s funny,” Kosta says behind me. “You and Julian seem similar.”
I scoff and turn back. “In what way?”
“Both forced addicts. Both from good homes with broken worldviews. Both sacrificing themselves for other people.”
“I’m not sacrificing myself for anyone,” I snap.
Kosta watches me like he knows something I don’t.
“Will you help me find him?”
Why is it always the good ones who disappear while the scumbags stay forever.
On the way home, the city looks washed out under daylight, all glass and concrete without the night’s neon flame. Sava turns into my street, but before he reaches my building, I notice the black Maybach parked near the entrance.
“Vampires?” I ask. “Lex?”
Sava studies it once and shakes his head.
“Drive.”
He doesn’t question me. He just passes the building and keeps going.
In the side mirror, the Maybach pulls out behind us.
Of course it does.
Sava accelerates. The streets are surprisingly empty, and the BMW cuts through traffic with controlled speed, but the Maybach stays behind us. Sava takes a sharp turn toward the Southside. Necromancer territory. Nobody sane starts trouble there. The Maybach follows anyway.
We’re about to cross into the district when another black Mercedes slides out from a side street and blocks the road.
Sava brakes hard. My seat belt snaps against my chest. Well, there goes my escape.
A thin man approaches my door. Not a supernatural, a human, technically, but not free. One of those pale servants who belong to old bloodsuckers, daylight-safe and hollow-eyed. He taps politely on my window. I lower it just enough.
“Miss Voss,” he says. “Can we talk for a moment?”
Last thing on my pleasure list today. I exhale, get out, and walk toward the black Maybach with windows tinted so dark they look painted. Daylight transport for vampires. How elegant.
