Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 49441 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49441 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
Including, it seemed, her.
The problem was, telling her might mean she would have second thoughts about the decision to help me.
And one slick little trick of the labyrinth was that the witch who was helping the vampire through… had to be willing.
That was why Roxanne had been the best choice for the mission. Her laziness would make her susceptible to accepting the money in exchange for just a week, at most, of her life.
Any other witch would demand details, would never agree until they knew all of the details. Even then, they might try to back out. Or escape.
It wouldn’t even be hard, not when we were traveling during the daylight hours. It wasn’t like I could give chase if the witch suddenly decided to throw open the door, and run out to safety.
The witches or wizards who had created the labyrinth many hundreds of years ago likely could not imagine an incentive big enough to make a witch willing to assist a vampire.
They couldn’t see a future where we would possibly be willing to work together. They couldn’t predict the way the world had changed, shifted, how age-old hatred between witches and vampires could cool to tepid indifference.
And they certainly couldn’t have counted on a witch like Roxy. One who was willing to trade her magic for money toward some unknown goal.
It was why I was glad that she didn’t insist on more conversation as we drove to the hotel. I didn’t want to spark too much curiosity, then frustration when she didn’t get the answers she wanted. Which might lead to her revoking her consent.
We pulled up to the hotel, a massive white stone building with an oversized carport out front that shaded the sun entirely until the sun was low on the horizon.
I didn’t tell the witch, but it was a hotel frequented by vampires. Partly because of the carport. Partly because of the thick, heavy drapes on the windows.
And, of course, the owners and staff who had no objections to undead patrons.
She might have been comfortable with me, but I had a feeling she wouldn’t feel the same about other vampires. Ones who had different feelings toward witches than I did. Ones who might not care if she tasted bad, who would bite her just to torture her.
And hotels weren’t like apartments or homes. They were public accommodations.
They wouldn’t need an invitation to enter a room.
“Is this the hotel that was in season two of The Scandalous Lives of Witchy Wives?” she asked as we waited for the doorman to open my door.
“I have no idea,” I told her as I slid out, waiting for her, then placing a hand at the small of her back to hurry her inside without using my speed.
Part of that was because it was always best to appear human whenever possible. The other part, the part I would never admit, though, was that the speed was becoming increasingly draining with each passing day.
I needed to preserve my energy as much as possible. That was why I was going to attempt to get some rest while we were in the hotel.
I needed to be sharp to try to help Roxy through the labyrinth.
What I lacked in actual magical skills, I made up for in knowledge and in decades of research. If she was lost or unfocused, I could guide her.
But to do that, I needed to be at my best as well.
We moved inside, making our way to the front desk as I eyed a trio of young vampires waiting for the elevator.
Sensing me too, they turned, eyeing me for a moment, then zeroing in on Roxanne.
“Are you growling again?” Roxy asked as the front desk clerk excused herself to answer the phone.
I didn’t realize until she mentioned it that I was.
No one else would have been able to hear it, save for the vampires with hearing nearly as acute as my own.
In response, they stiffened, chests puffing a bit before turning and making their way into the elevator.
“This place is fancy,” Roxy declared a few moments later as I let us into the suite with two queen beds, a bathroom bigger than Roxanne’s apartment, and windows that likely offered a wonderful view of the woods. If we were able to open them.
“Oooh, this has a real tub,” she said as she moved into the bathroom.
“As opposed to all of the fake tubs found in bathrooms?” I asked, getting a little lip twitch out of her.
“I mean, my bathroom has one of those shower-tub combos. Which means you can only submerge maybe half of your body. This one I could probably swim in,” she told me.
“Feel free to bathe. The driver will be back soon with a change of clothes for you. And better shoes,” I added, noticing how quick she was to slip out of the ones she had on each time she was able to.