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I watch as Andi hesitates. It is obvious that she doesn’t want to go with me, but she also does want to go to rehearsal. Her reluctance to go with me would almost offend me if it didn’t amuse me so much. I wonder, for a moment, if she’s going to decide against going with me and risk my wrath and that of her theater manager, but then she steps through the door.

“Okay,” she says resignedly, “just let me lock up.” Andi turns to shut the door. She slowly locks all the deadbolts in the door, each with a different key. That rouses my curiosity.

“Why are there so many locks?” I ask as we start ascending her steps up to ground level.

She bites her lip. “A week after I broke up with Colton, I came home from rehearsal to find him in my apartment. All the doors and windows were locked, but he was just sitting on my couch, waiting for me to come home. We got into a huge fight, and he almost hit me again. He punched a bunch of holes in the walls and shouted at me that it was all my fault, that I made him crazy. I ran away to my neighbor’s, who let me in. We called the cops and told them what happened. But when they came to assess the damage, they told me they couldn’t interfere in a personal matter and told me just to change the locks. I did, but a week later, a huge vase of roses was in my apartment, with a note apologizing. And then the week after, more holes were punched in the walls, including a knife stabbed in the headboard of my bed. Like he was just trying to prove I couldn’t keep him out. Again, the cops did nothing but take a report. So I moved. That worked for a while, but eventually he found me again, broke into my apartment again, and left more roses. I didn’t wait for him to do it again and moved, but he found me. So now I'm here, and when I moved in, my only request to Madame Pearl was to add more locks. I know now that they won't keep him out, but just having them makes me feel a little safer. At least, they will until he finds me again.”

“He can try,” I say evenly, though I am furious at her tale. She has suffered so much. But why? Why has Colton Haynes lost his mind about this woman? I continue, “But Madame Pearl is a powerful witch, and she doesn’t like people poking their noses into her business. The cloaking around her shop is legendary. It’s likely that even with the curse on you, he couldn’t find you here. It’s one of the safest places in the city.” Even if the basement apartment is a hovel, I silently add.

Andi slowly nods. “Last time he ‘ran into me’ was pretty far from the shop. Maybe he couldn’t detect me until I was farther away?”

“Likely,” I agree. We get to my SUV, and I open the door for her. She climbs in, and I follow, closing the door behind us. Inside, I give a little sigh of relief. It’s a bright, sunny day outside, hard to navigate as a vampire, but all the windows of my SUV are tinted, so it’s dark and comfortable. My driver, Sebastian, is in the front seat.

“La Couronne Bleu, Sebastian,” I say, relaxing into my seat. My eyes find and rest on the woman at my side. She’s looking at me already, a question in her eyes.

“What?” I query.

“So, you can go out in the sun?” she asks. “That’s one of the incorrect legends about you?”

I chuckle. “Trying to figure out how to kill me, ma souris? How bloodthirsty of you.”

To my amusement, she looks alarmed, like she did when I teased her about not wanting me here. “No! I don’t want that. I was just wondering, and you look more comfortable in here, and it’s so dark that I—”

“Peace, Andi,” I say. “I am jesting with you. I know that you are merely curious.”

I sigh and lean back in my seat. “Vampires are weakened by sunlight, it is true. The older you get, the weaker the sunlight makes you, until staying in it too long will turn you to ash. But we are not without protections that allow even one such as myself out during the day.”

“Magic?” she asks innocently.

I chuckle again. “Sunscreen. Magic doesn’t work on vampires, remember? It’s a potent formula that my own scientists have developed. Stronger than SPF 100 and completely waterproof. Not that I can sweat it away, but with humidity and rain and other unexpected accidents, it is better to be safe than sorry.”

Andi nods again. “How long did that take to make?”

“Many centuries.”

She cocks her head. “So you could only go out at night for centuries?”

She sounds sympathetic. I shake my head. “Do not pity a vampire, Andi. We do not deserve it, I assure you. Night is not a hardship for a vampire. Our eyesight is stronger than a mortal’s, and we see everything. The stars, to a vampire, are not just pinpricks of light. They are like glittering gems that can be seen even through the strongest light pollution. The moon is as bright as the sun. Darkness is our friend, not our enemy. But it is convenient to be able to walk about during the day. It has made my organization even more widespread than it was in the old days, and we are no longer vulnerable to daytime attacks. But the sun is still unpleasant to walk beneath, and I prefer the indoors.”

Andi still looks at me with sympathetic eyes. It’s a strange thing to be pitied by someone who is essentially just prey, but that novelty is at least amusing. “Well,” she says, “at least I’m most active at night. There’s an eleven o’clock rehearsal, but that only goes for a couple hours. Then I sleep, and the first show starts at nine and the second at midnight. So you won’t have to worry about going around during the day most days.”

“What about your days off?” I ask curiously.

“Honestly? I don’t even know what to do with myself anymore on my days off. I get rotating Wednesdays and Thursdays off, but lately I just stay home or try to brave the grocery store.”

Well, that won’t do. Andi is young. There’s a spark about her that hasn’t been extinguished, even with her recent tribulations. She should be out shopping, meeting friends, flirting with men who buy her absurdly priced drinks. I don’t like that last thought as much and resist the urge to scowl.

“Well, when is your day off this week?”

“Wednesday,” she replies.

“We’ll go somewhere interesting, now that you don’t have to worry about your ex or his cronies. What do you like to do?”

She looks stunned, like she doesn't believe I’m making such an offer. I’m a little surprised as well, but the idea of taking Andi somewhere where she can relax appeals to me.

“Umm . . .” she says hesitantly. “I actually like museums and art galleries. Or anywhere with live music.”

“You have an artistic soul,” I observe.