“For ‘human wrangling.’ The madam’s idea.” He didn’t sound enthused to be supporting me.

From an inside jacket pocket, he produced a map. “You’ll find the most efficient route to Death Valley is highlighted.”

“Why is she helping me, when she wouldn’t bother giving me a straight answer before?” I took my bag, heavy with its new cargo, and tucked the map into my jeans pocket. As I trudged wearily to the door, grateful to be out of this place, the butler’s voice stopped me.

“Perhaps she does not think you’ll succeed. Did it occur to you she might be helping you to your death?” His imperious tone was beginning to get on my nerves. “But I believe it is more a case of ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend.’”

I didn’t turn to face him, and resumed walking, pausing only to open the door. “I won’t fail. This is a cakewalk compared to what I’ve been through.”

“The madam also wishes you to know that if she sees you again, she will kill you on sight.”

I stepped out into the cool Nevada evening. The stars seemed to shine brighter here, and hung so close I almost felt I could touch them. The sight grounded me in the gravity and reality of what lay ahead of me.

I had most of the puzzle pieces. Now it was just a matter of fitting them together.

“She won’t see me again.” I took a deep breath of the fresh desert air. “But tell her I said ditto.”

When I left, I didn’t look back. I think I expected to see the place had been a mirage, evaporated into heat waves in the air.

The vampires sent to fix the door woke them. Cyrus held Mouse, who clung to him in mortal terror as the two creatures respectfully retrieved the broken door and carried it up the stairs. They apologized in advance for the noise they would make.

Cyrus expected them to bow and scrape as they exited, such was their cautious demeanor. Angie had most likely put the fear of God—or, more aptly, the fear of Angie—into them.

“They’re gone,” he whispered to Mouse when the vampires had trudged noisily up the stairs. “You don’t have to fear them.”

It felt like a lie the moment he said it. Hadn’t he proved himself useless in protecting her?

If she connected his words with his shameful failure before, she didn’t give it away. She let go of him by increments, easing into her space on the narrow bed. They lay in the quiet darkness for a while, listening to the low voices of the vampires working at the top of the stairs. Occasionally, a mechanical whirring or rhythmic pounding shattered the calm, but Cyrus was so tired he could have slept through it.