He caught a flash of reflection in the glass. A darting glance. A fanged smile. By the time he’d turned around, she was gone.
Ben made his way back to the hotel when the sun began tilting toward the horizon. There was a rush of cold air at the doorway to the mall, then the long lit walk past the storefronts. Cartier. Louis Vuitton. Hugo Boss. The juxtaposition of luxury and history was jarring to the senses. He ducked his head when he saw another phone camera pointed in his direction and kept it down until he’d entered the hotel and made his way to the elevators.
Quiet.
Ben took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The elevator sped to the fifteenth floor without stopping, the dinging doors more welcome than any familiar voice. A few more steps and he was in the generic surroundings of a Western chain hotel thousands of miles from home. Door locked. Chain set. Portable electronic alarm attached to the door.
Quiet.
Ben was used to quiet. He often came home to a house where no one was home or no one was awake. It was soothing.
He plugged his phone into his laptop and quickly downloaded the photos he’d taken at the museum, then erased them from the phone. On the off chance it was hacked, no thief would be able to track his movements by his photo history. He logged in to the virtual private network he used when he was traveling, checked his email and the secure remote dropbox that Gio and Beatrice had set up, then he reset his passwords for the week and turned the computer off.
The security measures were automatic, a routine that had been drilled into Ben as soon as he learned how to work a keyboard. His aunt had more than a passing ability with computers, and she’d taught Ben if it could be hacked, it probably would be. But that was more of a human threat.
Vampires, on the whole, distrusted technology. Often, the most important messages or communications still made their way by personal courier. Couriers were as well trained as assassins and just as expensive. Immortals were paranoid about security and often sired children or kept humans whose sole purpose was transporting information discreetly. Beatrice’s grandfather had a human constantly at his side, loyal to a fault and ready to transport any letter the old vampire might write. Ben knew at least one of Giovanni’s regular correspondents who still used wax-sealed scrolls.
There was something to be said for old school.
He checked his watch and decided to fit in another hour or two of sleep. Ben pulled off his shirt and, glancing toward the sunny window, cracked it open before he went to lie down. Within minutes, he was dreaming.
He woke when the bed shifted slightly.
Ben kept his eyes closed and took a deep breath.
Dust. Honey. Cardamom.
“Hey, Tenzin.”
She scooted farther over on the bed and he shifted to make room.
“No, really,” he muttered, keeping his eyes shut. “Make yourself at home.”
“I told you these beds would be comfortable.”
“I wouldn’t call this comfortable.”
“Comfortable for China then. You’re so American.”
“You’re so intrusive.”
“You left the window open.”
“I’m on the fifteenth floor.”
She just laughed.
“You realize you have boundary issues, right, Tiny?”
“Boundary issues?” She bumped her shoulder into the space between his bare shoulders. “Are you being modest again?”
“Maybe.”
“Funny boy. It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked.”
He had seen her naked. It had been a defining moment of his adolescence before Giovanni walked out to the pool and lectured Tenzin on modern standards of decency around seventeen-year-old boys. He’d held a grudge against his uncle for weeks.
Ben rubbed his eyes and rolled over. “Hi.”
“Hello. How did you like the museum?”
She was wearing her hair in braids that were oddly reminiscent of the mummy he’d seen earlier. He decided not to tell her that. He liked her hair in braids. Tenzin’s hair was past her shoulders and thicker than any woman’s hair he’d ever seen. Like a black cloud flying behind her when she wore it loose. She often wore it in braids, a habit Giovanni said she’d picked up in Tibet. Sometimes she tied the ends with brightly colored string that flashed and fluttered when she was in the air. He reached out and tugged on the end of one.
“I liked the museum. It was interesting. How did you get in there?”
“A guard let me in last night. There are some very comfortable yurts in one of the exhibits.”
“He let you in? You mean you used amnis on the night guard so he would let you in.”
“Same same.”
“Not really.”
Tenzin sat up and folded her legs on the bed as he scooted up to sit against the headboard. He reached for his T-shirt and tugged it on. Ben pulled up his legs and crossed his arms on his knees, settling his chin there as he yawned.
“How old are you?” he asked.
“Old enough to know better and still not care.”
He smiled. “No, really.”
She cocked her head. “The mummies?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Older. Older than the mummies there.”
He mouthed, Wow.
“Ancient.” She drifted into the air and did a slow roll. “I am an old, old woman.”
He loved the way she flew. It wasn’t like a bird. Tenzin moved through air as a fish did in water. Second nature. She looked out of place on the ground.
“All right, Bird Girl.” He tugged on the end of the loose pants she wore. “Tell me what we’re doing here?”