She reached for the beetroot juice, desperately considering throwing it out the window, then stopped because the sudden absence of a bottle felt even more suspicious. She unlocked her phone instead, staring blankly at a browser history that was a tragic monument to her own spiraling anxiety: What to feed a vampire? Can vampires eat cheese? Is garlic cross-contamination real? How to greet ancient beings without sounding weird.
She closed the browser, locked the screen, and placed the phone face down on the counter like a shameful secret.
Outside her window, Inksea glittered brightly, the sea a sheet of hammered silver stretching beyond the glass towers. Somewhere down below, blending into the shadows of Crown Jewel Tower, two unmarked police cars had been idling since midnight. Sophie had spotted them when she drew the curtains. She hadn't asked Stan about them. She already knew whose fiercely protective paranoia had put them there.
