"No," she struggled to shake her head.
"Good. Lissa, get us back to the room quickly," Gavin ordered. I got the three of us back to our hotel room as fast as I could haul mist in that direction.
Gavin threw the woman forcefully to the floor when we arrived and then stalked toward the squirrel's cage. "Richter!" Gavin thundered. "Turn to vampire and face me now!" I sure as hell hoped nobody was out in the hallway listening.
The squirrel cage blew apart when the vampire materialized and René crouched, claws extended, ready to help Gavin fight the rogue if needed. I had no idea who Richter was, but René and Gavin did. Honestly, he was cuter as a squirrel. As a vampire, he wouldn't trigger anybody's radar, with light brown hair and dark blue eyes. The girl was now crawling across the floor, trying to get away from everybody. I watched her. She shouldn't have pulled the knife. I was beside her and had that thing jerked out of her hand and her body flung into a wall so fast she didn't know what hit her.
"Do not move," I snarled at the girl, placing the same compulsion for the second time that day. Richter, his eyes going red and fangs and claws popping out, was facing off against Gavin and René. Tell him not to shapeshift, I sent to Gavin. At least Gavin had enough sense left to do that instead of ignoring me.
"You will not shapeshift," Gavin laid compulsion. Richter was about a thousand years old, as near as I could gauge it. More than young enough for Gavin to destroy his brain with the compulsion he had. Richter was also not one of Saxom's—or Xenides' get, for that matter. Not in the family, so to speak. I figured he was a mercenary or something, and in it for the money. I also figured Rahim had plenty of that backing him up.
"I wish to be taken to the Council," Richter hissed. Gavin hadn't told him he couldn't speak and Richter was doing what he could to prolong his life. Roff, still huddled in a corner as far away as he could get, watched the whole thing, his eyes wide with shock.
"Sorry," Gavin hissed right back. "The Assassins and Enforcers have orders to terminate you on sight." Richter didn't have time to blink—Gavin blurred as he flung out a hand and Richter's head smacked against the wall and then bounced across the floor, leaving a trail of ash behind it. The girl shrieked.
Lissa! I was getting mindspeech from Tony. We have problems! Oh, lord.
"Tony's calling for help," I yelled.
"Stay with that one," Gavin ordered René, pointing toward the girl. René barely had time to nod before Gavin and I were mist. There was chaos in the ballroom and three snipers were shooting into the crowd. People were running toward the exits and getting knocked down and trampled by those faster and more frightened. How the hell had the snipers gotten in to begin with? I didn't have much time to ponder that question. I went after the shooters, scaring the daylights out of all three as I picked them up, turning them to mist with me.
Bill, get your guys to the back, I'll drop them there, I sent. Tony was included in that sending as I headed toward the loading dock for the second time that day. Bill somehow commandeered six agents amid all the turmoil inside the ballroom and they showed up in the alley behind the hotel in minutes.
Dropping now, I sent and Bill shouted at his agents. Three snipers were tossed onto the loading dock, guns and all. The bullets aimed at the snipers flew right through Gavin and me as harmless mist before becoming solid again, once their momentum carried them past us. The snipers, however, weren't so lucky. Two died right then and the third was hauled off in an ambulance. I set Gavin down in a shadowy corner and Bill had to call his agents off us; their rifles were trained on us as we walked into the artificial brightness covering the loading dock.
"Is that everything?" I asked hopefully. I was tired and hungry, too. I hadn't eaten, yet—there hadn't been any time.
"For now," Bill sighed.
"We, uh, have another shooter upstairs," I said quietly. Bill's agents were talking with the medical examiner's employees; they were there to pick up the bodies.
"Let's go," Bill muttered. "Secure the scene," he yelled at the agents over his shoulder.
"Yes, sir," came the reply. Tony was there to meet us as we walked through the hotel's back door; he'd been keeping the VP safe during the shooting, it appeared. Yeah, the second most powerful man in the U.S. had recognized Tony, all right; he stood right beside the former Director of the Joint NSA/Homeland Security Department with absolutely no qualms. I sure as hell hoped he knew how to keep a secret.
Bill assigned two agents to the VP, who led him away. Tony fell in step with us, and we all rode up the elevator together. Bill pulled his gun out as we walked inside our hotel room, stepping around two piles of ash that used to be Richter and Richter's head. Bill stopped and stared at the girl, who was still plastered against the wall.
"Seraphim," Bill muttered. Tony nodded his head. That name didn't mean anything to me, but then Richter's hadn't, either. Bill pulled his cell out and dialed a number. "Send three agents up to the sixth floor," he barked. René, who'd stayed behind to watch the girl, moved aside to give Bill room. Roff walked out of the bathroom, looking pale.
"Are you all right?" I asked him.
"Yes. I felt ill for a bit but I am fine, now," Roff nodded, coming to stand beside me. I put an arm around his waist and hugged him—he looked like he needed it. Bill's agents came and hauled Seraphim away in handcuffs. Gavin snorted at her name.
"People think it means a beautiful angel," he remarked. "References say it means burning ones, or fiery serpents."
"Either way, she can cool her heels in the pokey," I muttered. "Is there anything to eat? I'm starved." Roff stared at me for a moment before dragging me into the bathroom and closing the door. Roff and I were both happy when we came out again.
"Lissa, I wish to speak with you. Alone." Gavin put emphasis on alone. The lecture was coming. Gavin was pissed and he was going to let me have it. And I was exhausted, too. At least he'd slept.
Winkler made his way into the room; he'd been downstairs sorting everything out in the ballroom. He was in one piece and unhurt, looked like. Gavin grabbed my arm and hauled me out of the room. "Turn to mist and get us to the roof," he growled in my ear. I sure hoped he wasn't in a yelling mood; I didn't think downtown Chicago was ready for loud cursing in multiple languages. Poor Bill might have a real job on his hands keeping that out of the media.
News trucks and reporters with camera crews were crawling all over the street below us and sirens were wailing up and down Michigan Avenue when Gavin and I landed on the roof. The hotel had yellow tape pulled across the front and ambulances waited outside. Gavin ignored the entire scene as we sat down on the roof of our hotel.
"Lissa, do not ever leave me like that again," he grumbled before his mouth was on mine and his arms were crushing me against him just as tightly as he dared. After a while, he was satisfied just to hold me in his lap as we watched ambulances and police cars come and go below us. It wasn't long before my vision blurred and I fell asleep, though the night was still young.
* * *
"Is she all right?" Winkler asked. He'd waited inside Gavin and Lissa's room, as had Tony, René and Roff, and watched in concern as Gavin carried Lissa in. Bill had already asked someone to come and clear away the mess on the carpet. The housekeeping staff had come and vacuumed up Richter's ash, thinking it was dirt. Bill was Director of the Joint NSA/Homeland Security office; they weren't about to argue with him about piles of dirt on the carpet. Bill had then gone downstairs to see to things there.
"She's asleep," Gavin whispered.