Greywalker - Kat Richardson [92]
“Then you know where is my furniture?” he asked. His voice rose with excitement.
“I might.”
“Tell me.” His voiced pushed on me, resonating in my chest and head. I pushed back against it. I’d been pushed on a lot lately, and I wasn’t in the mood for it. I dug in my mental heels and resisted his demand for all I was worth.
“I want to be certain. It could turn out to be just another link and I don’t want to get your hopes up for nothing.”
He scowled and I shivered. “When will you know?”
I poked my computer, which showed me a picture of rolling static.
“I’ll be blunt, Mr. Sergeyev. I can’t do anything about your case until Tuesday. The party involved won’t be available any earlier. Then I still have to confirm that it is the organ you want and see if the owner is even willing to negotiate on it. They might not be.”
He seemed surprised. “They would not?”
“I don’t know yet. Let me find out a little more, then we can discuss it. I’ll do what I can. Trust me—I’ll call you when I have something more to tell you.”
“Ah, well. So be it.” There was that push again, but I could taste anger and annoyance in it this time. “I expect hearing from you Tuesday evening.” He rose to his feet like a piece of spring steel unbending.
I got up, beat him to the door, and opened it for him. He went out with a cold little nod to me. In the dim light of the hallway, he seemed bigger. The darkness swallowed him up as he descended the stairs. The bang on the back of my skull seemed to have rattled something loose in my head and I felt a little stupid. I went back to my chair behind the desk and stared at the computer screen.
The screen prompt asked if I wanted to view recorded video. I clicked on YES. I saw the room on the screen, the desk, myself at the desk, the empty chair on the other side. Maybe the last fifteen minutes had not been saved? I didn’t like it. I’d have to call Quinton, but I had a feeling he wouldn’t make me feel any better.
My head hurt, but the butterflies in my insides calmed. I wondered if I was just hungry. I trotted out for a bite. It was a little chilly and the evening breeze was kicking up, but I decided to sit outside for a few minutes while I ate, hoping to clear my head a bit. But I just got cold and wolfed my food, which made my stomach ache, and I wished I’d worn the jeans after all, instead of the skirt.
Cameron drifted into my office a few minutes before nine thirty. I noticed he didn’t exude the halo and draining Grey effects of Carlos and Alice. Odd.
“How’s it going?” I asked as he sat down.
“It’s OK. Sarah and I worked out a sleeping arrangement at her house, but it’s only temporary. I’m going to have to find something of my own before her boyfriend gets back.”
“Any idea when that will be?”
He shrugged. “Not sure. Could be as early as June.”
I gave him a faint, false smile. “We’ll just have to work fast then. I told you I talked to Alice last night, right?”
“Yeah. How’d it go?”
“Scary. She thinks I should kill Edward, or incite the other vampires of Seattle to do it.”
“Umm . . . you’re not really thinking about it, are you?”
“No. But it did give me an idea. Alice mentioned that vampires have a pack mentality and they will attack their leader if they sense that he’s sick or weak. That’s what Alice wants so she can step into the breach once Edward is down.”
“Oh, man . . . I thought she was my friend! That scheming—”
I interrupted. “Don’t get too hot under the collar. A coup is fine for Alice, but for you to get anything out of this, Edward has to stay in charge. We can’t trust Alice to do anything for you, but Edward has more to lose. So I’m going to stir up trouble, but not enough