I remembered the case now. Anita Barrington had been a witch that the werewolves used as a resource while investigating a portal alleged to have freed Jack the Ripper in Toronto. As usual, the truth was far more mundane. The guy it freed was a Victorian immortality quester—Matthew Hull. Anita Barrington was also an immortality quester, and had helped Elena find Hull. Until she had a final encounter with her mortality.

“Didn’t she die during that investigation?” I said.

“Being dead doesn’t necessarily stop anyone from causing trouble,” Lucas said. “As you well know.”

I lowered my voice to a mock-whisper. “Do you mean Cass? You know she hates being called dead. She’s in an altered state of parasitic existence.”

“All right,” Cassandra said. “You can stop feeling better now.”

“I was referring to your recent run-in with Leah, Savannah,” Lucas said. “But, if you read the file, you’ll notice that Anita Barrington’s death was only presumed. She was found to be missing from her shop and there were signs of a struggle and an inordinate amount of blood left behind.”

“Duh, obviously she’s still alive,” I said. “Don’t you ever watch mysteries?”

“I’d point out that real life rarely emulates the movies, but in this case, you may be right. While the walking dead and long-lost identical twins are intriguing possibilities, it’s more likely that Anita simply didn’t die, despite Matthew Hull’s claim that he killed her.”

“Okay, but what does that have to do with Cass—” I stopped as a memory pinged. “Anita Barrington was an immortality quester with an unhealthy interest in vampires. Matthew Hull was convinced he’d solved the immortality puzzle, and it had something to do with vampires. He tried to kill Zoe.”

Cassandra sniffed. “And the fact that he failed is proof of the man’s incompetence.”

“I like Zoe,” I said. “She’s fun.”

“Vampires are not supposed to be fun.”

I glanced at Lucas. “Could we call Zoe in on this? She knew Anita. I’m sure she’d come, and I’m sure Cassandra would be much happier if she stayed in Miami. I know I would be.”

“Keep that up and I’ll start to feel as if you don’t want me along.”

Sean met us at the airport in L.A. He must have been expecting Cassandra, because he didn’t look surprised. Then again, if Sean ever is surprised, he doesn’t show it. People question our grandfather’s decision to make Sean heir to the Nast Cabal. It’s true that Sean lacks the usual CEO qualities—the cutthroat ruthlessness of our father or the manipulative charm of Benicio Cortez. But he has a quiet genius for business and a basic decency that makes him the kind of leader people respect, like, and trust. Whether he’ll ever actually become CEO is doubtful, though, for the reason Cassandra brought up before we even left the terminal.

“So, have you come out yet?” she said to Sean as we headed for the exit.

I sighed. Lucas sighed. Sean only chuckled, and said, “The fact that I’m still working for the Cabal would suggest not.”

“You’re underestimating your value to them, as I’ve told you. And you’re overestimating the importance they’ll place on your sexual orientation.”

“No, I don’t believe I am,” he murmured.

“Then they are being ridiculously narrow-minded and old-fashioned. If they want you to produce sons for the business, science can solve that. If homosexuality makes them uncomfortable, they need to get over it. Do you know how many changes in mores and values I’ve seen over three centuries? I’ve adapted. So can they.”

“You know, Cass,” I said, “as much as I’m sure Sean loves having this conversation with you again, it’s really not something you need to bring up five seconds after saying hello.”

“But that wouldn’t be as much fun,” Sean said.

“It’s not about fun,” Cassandra said. “It’s about making an important observation that I don’t think can be made nearly often enough. Until he does something about it, I will continue to make it at every opportunity.”

“Don’t worry,” I said to Sean. “Her semi-immortality clause is expiring.”

“And you accuse me of making impolite observations?”

“Just leveling the playing field. You’ve been dying for years now, Cass. At this point, I figure I can safely bring it up because it’s obviously not happening soon. You’re too damned stubborn.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Yes, Sean was gay and yes, it was supposedly a secret. Cassandra only knew because she’d figured it out. She said it was obvious. It’s not . . . or he wouldn’t be able to hide it from a Cabal filled with people watching his every move.

Sean is a slender version of our dad—tall, blond, blue-eyed, and very good-looking. He used to wear his hair longer, tied back for work, but when he neared thirty, he decided he was past the ponytail stage and cut it off. He dresses well for work, but prefers casual wear. He’s quiet and even-tempered. He likes sports and live theater. He listens to new rock and old blues. If you really want to lay out every gay stereotype, I’m sure he fits some of them, but so would everyone else. Stuffing people into boxes is for those who have issues about their own box.

Cassandra figured out that Sean is gay because she pays attention. She’d noticed that he never checked out women on the street or talked about who he was dating, and she’d drawn her own conclusions from that. She’s a predator. She’s always paying attention, even when she pretends otherwise.

twenty-six

When we reached the car, Sean’s driver was there with two vehicles.

“That’s for you and Cassandra,” Sean said, pointing at an older model BMW. “Discreet enough in L.A. Lucas and I have a meeting with Granddad so I thought you two would want to head off on your own.”

“Just point us in the right direction,” I said. “I take it we’ll be dodging Nast security?”

He shook his head. “There is no official investigation to dodge. Launching one would suggest our grandfather has some doubts regarding who took the boy. He needs to hold off until Lucas denies Benicio’s involvement. Then he’ll launch one to prove it. Until then, he has simply secured the crime-scene.”