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Amelia leaned forward a little as she drove, but the door was easy enough to see, and there were other cars parked there. It was about ten in the morning, and there was a touch of cool in the air, just below the surface warmth. It was an early breath of fall. After the hot, hot summer, it was just blissful. It would be cooler in Rhodes, Pam had said. She’d checked the temperatures for the coming week on the Internet and called me to tell me to pack a sweater. She’d sounded almost excited, which was a big deal for Pam. I’d been getting the impression that Pam was a wee bit restless, a bit tired of Shreveport and the bar. Maybe it was just me.

Amelia helped me unload the suitcases. Amelia had had to take a number of spells off the red Samsonite before she could hand it over to me. I hadn’t asked what would have happened if she’d forgotten. I pulled up the handle on the rolling bag and slung the carry-on bag across my shoulder. Amelia took the hanging bag and opened the door.

I’d never been in an airplane hangar before, but it was just like the ones in the movies: cavernous. There were a few small planes parked inside, but we proceeded as Pam had instructed to the large opening in the west wall. The Anubis Air jet was parked outside, and the coffins were being loaded onto the luggage belt by the uniformed Anubis employees. They all wore black relieved only by a stylized jackal’s head on the chest of the uniform, an affectation that I found irritating. They glanced at us casually, but no one challenged us or asked to see identification until we got to the steps leading up to the plane.

Bobby Burnham was standing at the foot of the steps with a clipboard. Of course, since it was daylight, it was obvious Bobby wasn’t a vamp, but he was nearly pale and stern enough to be one. I’d never met him before, but I knew who he was, and he certainly recognized me. I plucked that right from his brain. But his certainty didn’t stop him from checking my ID against his damn list, and he was giving Amelia the big glare, like she couldn’t turn him into a toad. (That was what Amelia was thinking.)

“He’d have to croak,” I murmured, and she smiled.

Bobby introduced himself, and when we nodded, he said, “Your name is on the list, Miss Stackhouse, but Miss Broadway’s isn’t. I’m afraid you’ll have to get your luggage up by yourself.” Bobby was loving the power.

Amelia was whispering something under her breath, and in a rush Bobby blurted, “I’ll carry the heavy bag up the stairs, Miss Stackhouse. Can you handle the other bag? If that’s not something you want to do, I’ll be back down in a minute and take them up for you.” The astonishment on his face was priceless, but I tried not to enjoy it too much. Amelia was playing a slightly mean trick.

“Thanks, I can manage,” I reassured him, and took the hanging bag from Amelia while he bumped up the stairs with the heavier piece of luggage.

“Amelia, you rascal,” I said, but not too angrily.

“Who’s the asshole?” she asked.

“Bobby Burnham. He’s Eric’s daytime guy.” All vamps of a certain rank had one. Bobby was a recent acquisition of Eric’s.

“What does he do? Dust the coffins?”

“No, he makes business arrangements, he goes to the bank, he picks up the dry cleaning, he deals with the state offices that are open only in the day, and so forth.”

“So he’s a gofer.”

“Well, yeah. But he’s an important gofer. He’s Eric’s gofer.”

Bobby was coming back down the steps now, still looking surprised that he’d been polite and helpful. “Don’t do anything else to him,” I said, knowing that she was considering it.

Amelia’s eyes flashed before she got the sense of what I was saying. “Yeah, petty of me,” she admitted. “I just hate power-mad jerks.”

“Who doesn’t? Listen, I’ll see you in a week. Thanks for bringing me to the plane.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She gave me a forlorn smile. “You have a good time, and don’t get killed or bitten or anything.”

Impulsively, I hugged her, and after a second’s surprise, she hugged me back.

“Take good care of Bob,” I said, and up the stairs I went.