"Magnus?" I said. "Magnus, talk to me."

Nothing. Then a rattle, sharp and metallic, like someone shaking a doorknob that had personally betrayed them.

"The door is locked," Magnus said. His voice was very calm. That was worse than shouting. When Magnus goes calm, buildings usually fall down shortly after.

"Locked how? You crush doorknobs for fun. I've seen the receipts."

Another rattle. Then a thud that made my speaker crackle. "It is not a normal lock. There is something in it. Silver, or worse. I cannot break it."

On my other phone, Barnabas was still whisper-streaming from the hallway. "Chat, update. My lord Leonard is walking away from Magnus's door. He is whistling. Villains whistling is never good, write that down."

"Barnabas, follow him," I hissed.

"Follow him? He has super hearing. I have braces that reflect light like a disco ball. I am not built for this."

"You said you were my inside man."

"I said it BEFORE I knew there would be following." But the camera moved anyway, bobbing along the hallway like a very nervous boat. Leonard strolled ahead, hands behind his back, the picture of a man enjoying an evening walk. Ten minutes ago he had been too drunk to stand. Now he moved like a ballroom dancer with a schedule.

"Magnus," I said into the first phone. "Leonard has the key. Barnabas saw him lock you in. He faked the whole drunk thing."

Silence. Long enough that I checked the call was still connected.

"Of course he did," Magnus said finally. "The serenade should have warned me. Leonard never sings unless he wants something."

Valdi leaned forward from the back seat. "Ma'am, would you like me to break down the gate? I once opened a jammed elevator with my forearms."

"True story," said Vroni.

"Nobody is breaking anything," I said. "We are thinking."

I was not thinking. I was staring through the windshield at the open gates and the dead fountain beyond them, where a stone gargoyle grinned at me like it knew something I didn't. The gates had opened on their own the moment we pulled up. Nobody opens a gate for you like that unless you're expected. Being expected by vampires is not a compliment.

"My lady," Magnus said. "Listen carefully. Do not enter. Turn the car around and drive."

"And leave you locked in a room? And leave Jake with white hair and someone else's name for me?"

"Marion." Not my lady. Marion. Three hundred years old and he saved my actual name for emergencies. "This was arranged. The apology, the feast, the room. If they wanted a blood sample, a courier could have collected it. They wanted you here."

The vials sat in my jacket pocket, warm from my own body heat. Mine and Jake's. The whole reason I'd driven into a dark forest at dawn like the first ten minutes of one of my own horror novels. I write those. I know exactly which character I was being right now.

"Barnabas," I whispered. "Where's Leonard going?"

The stream showed a staircase. Then red carpet. Then Barnabas breathing like he'd run a marathon, which, for the record, was from walking. "He's heading down. Toward the front doors. Chat says hide. Chat is smarter than me. Hiding now."

The camera dove behind a curtain. Through the gap, I watched Leonard pause at the doors, straighten his collar, and fix his hair in a dark window like a man arriving at his own party.

"Marion," Magnus said. "Drive. Now. Please."

I put my hand on the gearshift. I really did. My hand was there, my foot was ready, and my brain was screaming a very reasonable speech about survival.

Then the mansion's front doors swung open and light spilled down the steps and across the courtyard.

Valdi cracked his knuckles. Vroni did not blink. I'm not sure Vroni has ever blinked.

A tall figure came down the steps, unhurried, coat swirling, and walked straight into my headlights like they were a spotlight he'd ordered in advance.

Leonard spread his arms wide, smiled with every single tooth, and called out, "My poor little flower, at last. I have been simply dying to apologize."