“There’s another resort lodge even closer than that,” Lee said. “Thirty miles, maybe. I can check the map.”
“That may be our best option,” Grant said.
I couldn’t explain what had happened—what was happening—but we were coming up with plans, and that was good. That made me feel better. This was a good, sensible, talented group of people to be stuck with.
But there was still something making me nervous. I looked at Grant. “We should go around and look for those remote cameras and shut them down. Put electrical tape or duct tape over the lenses if we can’t turn them off. I don’t want anyone salvaging footage for any shows out of this.”
“Or spying on us?” Grant said.
“I didn’t want to say it,” I said.
Conrad was pale, breathing too quickly, on the edge of panic. “But if the power’s out—”
“Batteries,” Jerome said. “They could still be filming.”
“We’ll do that,” Tina said, taking Ariel’s hand and urging her to her feet. “I’ll bet there’s duct tape in the kitchen or toolshed.”
Jerome and Grant paired off to check the generator, Tina and Ariel searched the kitchen for tape, and I kept wracking my brains, wondering what we were missing.
Jeffrey said, softly, “Someone should tell Anastasia and Gemma what happened to Dorian. They should know.”
Well. That was one of the things I’d forgotten. Or didn’t want to think about. I didn’t understand the bond the three of them shared, but I knew it was strong. I knew they’d be hurt. Devastated. I couldn’t guess how they’d react.
“Isn’t it a bad idea, disturbing vampires while they’re sleeping?” Ariel said.
“And how disturbed do you think they’ll be when they realize we’ve gone all day without telling them what happened?” I said.
“I don’t want to do it,” Tina said softly. A couple of the others—Lee, Conrad—looked away, in silent agreement.
“I’ll do it,” I said and went toward the stairs.
I didn’t want to. I didn’t like the idea of walking into the vampires’ secret lair with this news more than anyone else did. But if it had been me, I’d want someone to tell me right away. Not that I knew how I was going to do it.
I opened the door. The stairwell was pitch-dark. My eyes adjusted quickly; enough light bled from the upstairs to let me see, a little. I should have brought a flashlight. Keeping my hand on the wall, I inched my way down, until I felt the stairwell give way to open room.
The room looked like all the other bedrooms, a typical hotel setup with a king-sized bed, a bureau, a desk, a couple of armchairs, and a bathroom. A couple of suitcases stood by the closet. Fully dressed, Anastasia sat at the edge of the bed, facing me. She was ghostly pale, her skin grayish, lips thin, eyes half-lidded. She looked like a wax figure. Like a corpse.
“Something’s happened,” Anastasia said.
I swallowed. My eyes teared up again. “It’s Dorian.”
She bowed her head and nodded. “I could tell. Something woke me—I could just tell.”
“He fell when the porch railing gave way. It looks like… Odysseus thinks it was rigged. Anastasia, I’m so sorry.”
She sat very still. After a long pause, she said, “Stupid, fragile mortals.” A trembling hand wiped her cheek, though nothing was there. She took a deep breath, which was odd, because vampires didn’t need to breathe. They only drew air to speak. But she seemed to need to gather herself. The breath seemed to help her straighten and regain control.
She looked over her shoulder to Gemma, who was asleep, a still, waxen figure under the covers.
“Are you going to wake her up?” I asked.
“No,” Anastasia said. “Let her have a few more hours of peace. She’ll find out soon enough. The railing—you said it was rigged?”
“The power’s gone out, Provost has vanished, and—and part of the crew’s been murdered. The airplane’s sabotaged. We’re isolated here. Worst-case scenario—”
“Conspiracy,” she said. “Someone wishing to get at me would do very well to strike at Dorian. I always kept him close because of that. Do you understand?”
We could all probably agree that some conspiracy was afoot. But it was amazing how different such a conspiracy could look depending on your perspective.