“Sounds like a lovely relationship.” He kept his eyes closed and mentally begged her to shut up.
“Relationship is not a way I would describe it.”
I don’t want to know, he mouthed silently.
“It’s been years since I’ve seen him.”
“Good night, Tenzin.”
“Good night.” She reached through the hatch and squeezed his hand. The spark of amnis was unmistakable.
“Tenzin did you—”
“You need to rest.” Her voice was muffled by the steel compartment and the fog of sleep that was quickly descending.
“Tiny, I…”
The world around him turned feather soft.
He heard her whisper, “I would have you rest easy, my Benjamin.”
It was the last thing he heard before he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER FIVE
Despite Ben’s fears, the two-day drive to Kashgar was uneventful. Save for the near-constant griping of his travel companion, Ben almost found it relaxing.
“You are a terrible driver,” she muttered as he took another hairpin turn.
“I’m not. I’m actually a very good driver.” He was a good driver. He’d known how to drive a car since he was ten and though Gio had never allowed Beatrice to see them, he’d driven his uncle around long before he had a proper license.
He didn’t really enjoy freaking her out. But the upside of Tenzin being a curled ball in the seat beside him was that she wasn’t letting her curiosity get the better of her. This was a newer truck and vampire amnis would short out the dashboard if she tried to mess with it.
“You’re going to make the truck crash.”
He laughed. “You’re funny.”
“No, I’m not. I’m…”
“You’re what?” He chanced a glance over, only to see her sitting precariously in the seat, lifting herself in the air every time they went over a bump, clutching the small handle over the door. Her face was still and her teeth were clenched.
“You’re scared,” he said, shocked by the sudden realization. Tenzin wasn’t scared of anything. Not really. She was often cautious, but scared?
“Do you realize how utterly defenseless you are in this vehicle? It is not a van, it is a giant trap.”
“How many exits?” It was a game they often played. Tenzin asking him how many ways out of a room or random location. Ben quickly giving her all the available exits, with her usually adding one or two more.
Tenzin said nothing.
“Come on, Tiny. How many exits?”
“None!”
“Wrong. Kick out the front window. One. Break open the side doors. Two and Three. Moon roof.” He rapped on the overhead hatch. “Four. In this small a room, four exits is more than enough.”
Tenzin glanced speculatively at the moonroof. “It opens?”
He put a hand up and popped it open. It wasn’t automatic, but the plastic joints gave easily, allowing a quick suck of air into the cab. He could see Tenzin relax almost immediately.
“Four,” she said. “That is sufficient.”
“More than sufficient. After all,” he said, flicking his eyes toward the now-easy vampire, “you really only need one.”
“I wouldn’t leave you behind if we fell over a cliff,” she said, neck craning to look over the edge of the road through the mountains.
“That’s comforting.”
“Unless it was you who drove us over the cliff. Then you’d deserve it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Another city, another eerily quiet warehouse. Someday, Ben would write a book—probably a very short book—on how universal most cities were. Yes, they all had their quirks, but on the whole, he found them to be startlingly similar. Smells changed the most. This time, when they opened the door, the earthy smell of vegetables met their nose. Ben could see crates stacked on one wall of the warehouse Tenzin directed him toward. He’d pulled into the warehouse and barely stopped before Tenzin burst out of the vehicle, flying up to the rafters of the warehouse and perching there like a very large bird.
“Tenzin?”
“Just let me sit up here for a while.”
“Take your time.” He went to close the giant door of the warehouse. Light was sucked out of the room as the door rolled closed, but he could hear Tenzin fluttering in the rafters as she stretched her legs.
“You’re going to have to find lodgings,” she said. “There’s not enough time to start tonight. Cheng’s man said there is a motorbike in the warehouse somewhere.”
He stood, looking up at her and frowning. “So you want me to just run out and find a hotel—”
“Not a hotel. Anyone local will be watching hotels.” Her dark eyebrows furrowed together. “What do you call the place where the backpackers sleep?”
“A tent?”
“No, where they go when they’re not camping.”
“A hostel?”
“Yes.” She smiled. “Use one of those. There are probably several, and they are less likely to be watched. Find one near the old city.”
“But don’t you—”
“I’ll stay here,” she said. “Plenty of room to fly and the windows have been blacked out.”
“Are you sure?” He couldn’t see a thing in the warehouse. There was a small light over the door, but once he’d rolled down the door, the space had been plunged into darkness. He had no idea how he was going to find this motorbike Cheng’s man had mentioned if he couldn’t even—