“A gala?” Emilie’s smile was incandescent. “Really?”

“A summer gala to benefit Historic New York,” he said. “The sponsors of the surrealist exhibit, remember?”

“Of course I remember,” she said. “Ben, this is wonderful. Do you think someone who works there would know about Midnight Labyrinth? Know anything about Emil’s work?”

“They have to know something. They included the two other paintings in the exhibit, didn’t they?” He speared a raspberry and offered it to her. “I’m looking into a couple of other leads, but this might give us a much better idea of where we should be looking.”

“If nothing else, we might eliminate some possibilities, right? So we’re not wasting time?”

“Exactly.”

She leaned over and kissed him, letting her lips linger. They’d come to Gavin’s bar for a couple of reasons. One, Emilie had heard Ben mention his friend’s pub. And two, Ben wanted to stake his claim on her before the gala. He wasn’t a vampire, but he was well-known enough that most immortals would respect a human he marked as his own.

“So tell me.” She played with his collar. “Will you be in a tuxedo for this gala?”

“Of course.” His fingers slid from her shoulder down her back, lingering at the curve of her waist. “Will you be wearing a slinky dress?”

“Should I?”

“Definitely.” He ran his nose along the delicate shell of her ear. She smelled like roses that night. “A very small, very slinky dress.”

She laughed lightly. “Not too small, I think. We don’t want to scandalize the proper people.”

Or advertise his date. “Tenzin and Chloe will be coming along too. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not. Are they dating?”

Ben almost spit out his drink. “Tenzin and Chloe?”

“What?” She smiled. “Sorry, did I get that wrong?”

Ben laughed. “Chloe is my ex-girlfriend from high school. And Tenzin is… Tenzin. No, they’re not dating. But they are working with me to find Midnight Labyrinth. So Gavin was able to get them tickets too.” He glanced across the bar. “Speaking of Gavin, we should say hi.”

He nodded at the vampire who was holding court with two other immortals on the opposite side of the bar. One was an enforcer Ben recognized. He belonged to the O’Briens but didn’t look like he was working. The other was a dark-haired woman with ruby-red lips, wearing a black veil—an honest-to-goodness veil—and a vintage-looking dress.

Ben didn’t recognize her, but she moved a little too fast to be human. She was good, but he was guessing she’d been out of human company for a while. One of Gavin’s servers sidled next to her and leaned down, letting the vampire sniff his neck before he led her to one of the private rooms.

Gavin wandered over, looking Emilie up and down with an appreciative glance. “Benjamin,” he said, letting Scottish brogue flow. “Good to see you. This must be the lovely fashion designer I’ve heard too much about. Evelyn?”

“Emilie.” She held out her hand and Gavin took it in his.

“My apologies.” He bent over her hand before he released it. “It’s very nice to meet you, Emilie. I hope you’ve found my pub a friendly place.”

“It’s perfect,” she said. “The music makes it private, but it’s not too loud to talk.”

“You’ve learned my secret to keeping people drinking here.”

“I promise I won’t tell.”

Gavin’s eyes twinkled. “I like her.” He glanced at Ben from the corner of his eye. “Any news regarding the lead we spoke of?”

Ben shook his head.

“Very well. I have one other line I might tug, if you’d like me to.”

“That might be a good idea.” Ben played his hand along Emilie’s neck. He loved how smooth her skin was. She’d undercut her hair, and her trimmed nape felt like velvet. “I’ll call you later, shall I?”

“Do.”

“Can you join us?” Emilie asked. “Ben tells me you’re the one who found the tickets for us to the gala.”

“Found?” Gavin raised an eyebrow at Ben. “Oh yes. They tumbled into my lap.”

Ben asked, “Did you want me to share details?”

“That’s quite all right.”

Emilie asked, “Can we buy you a drink for being so generous?”

He smiled. “No, love. This hardworking publican has other guests to greet before he can turn in tonight.” Gavin held her eyes. “But I believe we’ll be sharing a table on Friday, so if you’ll save a dance for me, I’d consider my favor repaid.”

Emilie’s smile sparkled. “Of course. As many dances as you like.”

“Not as many as he’d like,” Ben said quickly. “I don’t share that well.”

“I’m afraid I have a few ladies waiting,” Gavin said with a wink in Emilie’s direction. “So I won’t be able to monopolize your evening.”

“Sounds good to me,” Ben said.

“Vecchio, do say hello to the lovely Chloe, will you?” Gavin asked, straightening a cuff. “I’m saving my first dance for her.”

Ben flipped him off as Gavin walked away with a smile.

Emilie looked between them, confused. “Is your friend interested in Chloe?”

“He knows it annoys me.”

“But why?” Emilie asked. “He seems lovely. He has nice manners. Does she like him?”

“She doesn’t know him,” Ben said. “Or… not the real him. Gavin is fine, but he’s got a few rough edges.”

“And you don’t?” Emilie gave him a reproachful smile. “How many of us know—really know—the person we fall for? That’s part of the fun, isn’t it? The mystery? The discovery? If you knew someone completely, I bet you’d lose interest.”

“Do you think so?” He slid a hand around her waist and tugged her closer. “Are you saying I’m a mystery?”

“Of course.” She leaned into him, running her fingers over his chest. “Aren’t I? If you’ve already figured me out, I’m not doing my job very well, am I?”

Ben’s hand slid down to cup her bottom. “I think there are still a few layers to tease me.”

“Oh?” She lifted her chin. “Tease away. I think you’re up for the challenge.”

* * *

She was in hell. A hell designed by the devil’s minion. This particular minion wore black glasses, black jeans, and bright purple hair spiked high on his head.

“I can’t work like this.” The minion pursed his lips. “Make her stop moving.”

Tenzin barely managed to contain a growl before Chloe slapped a hand over her mouth. “Tenzin, the faster you quit wiggling, the faster this will be over.”

She bared her fangs and let them scrape over Chloe’s hand. The human yelped and pulled her hand away.

“Don’t you dare,” Chloe hissed. “Stop being a brat.”

“He’s poked me with pins three times. This dress is too tight.”

“It is not, and Arthur poked you because you keep wiggling.”

“I’m wiggling because he keeps poking me with pins!”

The door swung open, and Tenzin turned toward it.

“Stop moving!” the devil’s minion yelled.

“Roast in hell!” Tenzin snapped. “Save me, Ben.”

Ben had been leafing through the mail, but he stopped, grabbed his phone, and held it up. She heard the telltale click of his camera before she could escape.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m sending that to Gio,” he said.

“Traitor!”

“Uh-huh.” He looked back at the mail. “Hey, Chloe. Who’s that?”

“Hey, yourself,” Chloe said. “Ben, this is Arthur, the miracle worker who’s making our dresses in three days. Arthur, this is Ben.”

“Arthur.” Ben walked over and offered a fist to Arthur. “Nice to have another guy around. I’m usually outnumbered.”

Arthur bumped Ben’s knuckles before he tugged Tenzin back to face him. “Stop. Moving. Or I will make you bleed.”

Ben said, “Chloe, you wanted me to look at something downstairs?”

“Plans for the bathroom. Give me a minute.”

The two humans went downstairs as Tenzin glared at her tormenter. Despite how annoying he was, she had to admire the human’s single-minded focus. She submitted to the manhandling so she could get the costume fitting finished.

“I usually make my own clothes,” she muttered.

“So Chloe said. What do you make? I’m assuming not formal wear.”

“Not from this century.”

“Formal wear is a very particular animal,” he muttered through the pins in his mouth. “Though I have to say, you have a couturier’s dream in this place. These fabrics are insane.” Arthur glanced at the bolts and stacks of fabric behind them. He’d been delighted when Chloe told him he could work with any of it he wanted. He’d chosen an amethyst brocade with a chrysanthemum pattern for Tenzin, but he was pinning pattern paper to her at the moment.

“I make practical things,” Tenzin said. “Fighting clothes.”

Arthur stood and cocked his head. “Really?”

Tenzin nodded. “I have one coat that has room for a dozen blades.”

Arthur’s mouth dropped open.

“And one pair of pants that conceals a saber in the folds. It’s very convenient.”

“Oh my God. Are you for real?”

“Yes. Entirely.”

Chloe swept into the room. “What’s going on?”

Arthur pointed to Tenzin. “She has a coat with room for a dozen blades.”

Chloe’s eyes went wide. “Arthur, I can explain—”

“Explain that your friend is a complete badass?” He started pinning again. “Holy shit, Chloe, now I want to see how many daggers I can fit up in this evening gown.”

“I will give you a bonus for each dagger you make a sheath for,” Tenzin said. “Five times that bonus amount if you can fit a saber.”

Chloe opened her mouth, but Arthur raised his hand before she could speak. Staring straight at Tenzin, he said, “This is some serious superhero shit, my friend. And I now consider it a personal challenge. I’m going to pretend I’m making this for cosplay and not ask any questions. How does that suit you?”

“Sounds to me like you’ve already earned your first bonus.” Tenzin smiled at Chloe as Arthur went back to work. “I approve of this tailor.”

“I’m so glad.”

“I just had the best idea.” Arthur went back to his sketch book on the table. “Tenzin, which arm do you hold a sword with?”

“Both. But I favor my right. And if you should share that information, it would not be to your benefit, young tailor.”

“Right. Like I’m going to be sharing all this on Instagram.” He started scribbling and wandered away as Tenzin stood stock-still on the platform Arthur had brought to work.

Chloe said, “Oh, now you’re being patient?”

“He’s going to add dagger sheaths to the dress. I can stand still for that.”

“Good to know your priorities are in order.”

“Dagger sheaths, Chloe. In an evening dress.”

“Good.” She sat on the couch and pulled out her phone.

“Are you still working?” Tenzin asked.

“Yeah.”

“Finish and go stretch. You didn’t stretch long enough after we practiced today. If you don’t stretch before bed, you’ll be stiff in the morning.”

“Sure thing, mom.” Chloe was still checking her phone. “That plumber still hasn’t emailed me back.”

“Why do we need a plumber?”

“I don’t mind sharing a bathroom. I do mind sharing a sink.”

Tenzin shuddered. “Ben leaves an awful mess when he shaves.”

“Doesn’t he?”

“He needs to grow his beard back.”

Chloe gasped. “He’d look great with a beard. He had a beard?”

“I’m not sure why he shaved it. It grows quickly.”

Ben walked back upstairs. “What grows quickly? What are you talking about?”

“Your beard,” Chloe and Tenzin said in unison.

Arthur looked up. “What’s that?”

Chloe patted her chin. “Beard, Arthur. Facial hair?”

“Oh.” Arthur pursed his mouth. “Yeah, you should definitely grow one. You’d have the dark, sexy bad-boy thing going on,” he said. “I mean, more than you already do now.”

Ben frowned. “You’re a tailor? Do you alter suits?”

“No. I’m a designer who’s going to put half a dozen daggers in an evening dress.” He held up a hand to Tenzin, who clapped it like she’d seen humans do. “I love this girl. If you need a tailor, call my friend Nelson. He’s ancient, but he’s the best.”

Ben cocked his head and looked at Tenzin draped in brown pattern paper. “You can put how many… You know, I don’t think I want to know. Chloe, is Arthur making your dress too?”

“Yes! Tenzin gave me some gorgeous grey silk,” Chloe said. “But Arthur will be making mine without daggers.”

Tenzin said, “I’d rethink that. It’s going to be more difficult to add them later when you’re more weapons proficient.”

The tailor’s eyes went wide, but he muttered “cosplay, cosplay” under his breath and went back to drawing.

* * *

Tenzin floated down from her loft hours after Arthur had gone home and Chloe finally turned in. Ben was working at the table by the bookshelves, newspaper clippings and auction catalogs scattered around him.

“Are these the things from Emilie’s grandmother?”

Ben nodded. “There’s some letters. Some news clippings. But nothing concrete. I did track down the Nazi officer who was in command of the village where Adele lived.”

“That was the artist’s sister?”

“Yes, Emilie’s great-grandmother.”

“And you tracked down the officer, but…”

“Nothing. He was arrested by the Allies. Put on trial. Died in a military prison. There are no reports of property recovered.”

“That just means there are no reports,” Tenzin said. “Not that there was no property.”

“If there were reports, where would they be?”

“France.” She shrugged. “Probably.”

“Who do we know in France?”

“That can look for us? No one. Terry’s friend killed Jean.”

“He killed Jean because Jean was dealing in Elixir.” Everyone who dealt in the illicit vampire drug was marked for death. Now that a cure had been found for both humans and vampires—though details on that cure were sketchy—the danger of Elixir had gone down and rounding up suppliers was the hot new trend in vampire politics. Cormac O’Brien had killed one of his own lieutenants when he found him colluding with an Elixir supplier in the Baltic.

“France.” Ben tapped his pen. “It’s fractured. There’s no central immortal government like England.”

“True. But doesn’t Gavin have a bar there?”

Ben nodded. “He has one in Paris and in Cannes.”

“So send him. He could ask around.”

“Are we sure we want him that involved?”

“Isn’t he involved already?” Tenzin asked. “Ask him after the gala. I was thinking you’d jump at the chance to put an ocean between him and Chloe.”

Ben’s face turned grim. “That is a good point.”

“I don’t know why you find him so objectionable. He’s your friend.”

“Yes, which means I know how he is with women. And Chloe is like my…”

“You can’t say sister. That would be wrong.”

“She’s my friend.” He dropped his voice. “One of my best friends. And she just got rid of the asshole. She needs someone nice.”

Speaking of the asshole, Ben was reminded that it was time to pay another visit to old Tom. He needed to break three ribs now that Tom’s knee would be mostly healed.

“It’s not your job to tend to Chloe’s wounds,” Tenzin said. “She’s a very smart girl. Though I wish she’d reconsider the dagger sheaths for her dress.”

“Focus, Tenzin.”

She propped her elbow on the desk. “Get Gavin to ask a few questions in France. If we’re being honest, the most likely scenario is that a thief or a vampire—or a vampire thief—”

“Which Gavin is. Or used to be.”

“Exactly. Chances are, a thief stole the painting and it’s hidden in some collection somewhere. Or Historic New York acquired it with the others, but they’re hesitant to loan it because of provenance.”

“Either way,” Ben said, “someone with criminal ties like Gavin would be able to find it faster.”

“Exactly. If nothing else, he could find the gossip.”

“We’d have to pay him.”

“No,” Tenzin said. “You’d have to pay him. This is your job, remember?”

“Fine.” He closed the auction catalog he wasn’t really reading. “Speaking of gossip, have you heard any lately? Local gossip, that is.”

Tenzin shrugged. “Who do I talk to?”

“Cormac O’Brien.”

“True.” Tenzin was oddly fascinated by the O’Brien clan’s leader. “We had a drink last week. I think I’m going to steal his pocket watch.”

“Why?”

“Because he likes it so much.” She frowned. “I know that’s probably not politically wise.”

“Maybe instead of stealing his pocket watch, you could steal some information.” Ben tried his most cajoling voice.

“Information is not as shiny as a pocket watch.”

“I know that. But there was a new vampire at Gavin’s. He had her nickname but nothing else.”

“What’s her nickname?”

“The Lady of Normandy.”

Tenzin rolled her eyes. “I hate it when vampires get pretentious like that. Just use your name. No one is impressed by titles anymore.”

“You’re full of shit, O Commander of the Altan Wind.”

“Whatever you say, Master of Iron in Lothian.”

Ben and Tenzin exchanged looks that turned into wry smiles.

“Fine,” he said. “I’d like to point out that mine is a ceremonial title given solely because I recovered that sword in Scotland, and I don’t lead with it.”

“I should hope not. I’ll try to discover who this very mysterious lady might be. Is there any particular reason why?”

He shook his head. “Just want to know who’s hanging out in my sandbox.”

“Speaking of your sandbox, have you tried calling Novia about the shipping information?”

Ben blinked. “Huh?”

“Novia O’Brien. One of the bigger kids in the sandbox. Have you tried calling her and working your Ben magic?”

“Why would she know about shipping at the Museum of Modern Art?”

“I’m assuming she does because she’s Cormac’s right hand in the city. It’s worth a try, don’t you think? If she doesn’t know, then she might know who would.”

He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. “This is why I keep you around. You’re brilliant.”

“You keep me around because I’m rich and everyone is afraid of me.”

“Hey.” He pulled out his mobile phone. “Your money has nothing to do with it. I have my own money. I keep you around for the fear.” Ben winked and Tenzin floated back up to her loft.

Novia’s number rang twice before she answered. “Give me a minute to call you back.”

“No problem.”

Since vampires couldn’t use most technology, they were reliant on voice-command systems like Nocht, which was what Cara ran on. Nocht was convenient. It could ring you in your car or your house. Some immortals even hired humans to carry around phones for them so they had the same access that humans did. What Nocht couldn’t do was give you privacy.

Ben’s phone rang a few moments later.

“In my office,” Novia said. “What’s up, my friend?”

He did his best to sound annoyed. Not a lot annoyed. Just a little annoyed. “Sorry, I have a boring business question. Can this night be over yet?”

She laughed. “I don’t know if I can help, but I’m all ears.”

“I figured you might know because you and Cormac are involved in arts fund-raising, right?”

“We’re already going to the gala on Friday, Ben. Sorry, but our table is full. Ennis invited a bunch of his humans. Wants to impress them.”

She sounded annoyed with her uncle, but not that sorry about missing a seat for Ben. He tried not to be offended.

“No, no,” he said. “I’m at Gavin’s table for this one.”

“Excellent. I’ll see you there.”

“But what I’m needing is a shipper. I have a very… private client. Nothing that could cause problems, mind you, but she needs to get some things to”—he desperately tried to think of a probable city in Europe—“Luxembourg.” That wasn’t great, but he hoped Novia wouldn’t ask too many questions.

“Luxembourg?”

“I don’t ask questions, Novia. I’m just the lackey this time. Doing a favor for my uncle. The items she wants to ship are rather large.”

“Shipping container large?”

“Crate large. But a sizable crate. Say… five tall by seven wide?”

“And how deep?”

“Shallow. The items are fairly flat. Perhaps two feet with internal packing.”

“I’m getting a clearer picture now.” Novia paused, and Ben heard her riffling papers. “I have a name for you, though I’m surprised you haven’t used them before in your line of work.”

“The kind of antiquities we recover are usually delivered in person. They’re also usually smaller than this.”

“Fair enough. DePaul and Sons. Let me give you a number. They’re not listed.”

“Thanks, Novia.”

“Fair warning. I have not used them. But I know the museum and other similar establishments have. They are known to be most discreet.”

Bingo. She rattled off the number and Ben jotted it down.

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“You’re the first human who’s told me that in a while.”

Ben tried not to wince. “Save the human a dance on Friday?”

“You think you can keep up with this girl, Vecchio?”

“I sure as hell want to try.”

Novia laughed. “I’ll see you in a few days. I know my father is hoping Tenzin will be there. What’s your best guess?”

“She will be.” He thought of the chaotic fitting that afternoon. “I think she even has a new dress for the occasion.”

God help us all.