Immortals After Dark 12 - Lothaire

languages, but you have difficulty centering your thoughts enough to write anything at length. You’re obsessive-compulsive with your possessions, which leads me to think that very little of your life outside of these walls is how you want it to be. You had no friends growing up and that hasn’t changed since. You’re narcissistic—but I knew that upon first looking at you.”
    He tilted his head, grudgingly impressed, though his tone was anything but. “First of all, I’m not narcissistic.” When she opened her lips to argue, he said, “I know Narkissos of Thespiae—while we might share traits, I came first, so he’s Lothairistic, not the other way around. Furthermore,I speak and write eight languages. As for my obsession with order, that’s obvious from my closet. Insomniac is easy enough to guess. The sheets are twisted.”
    “And the metronome. You use it to relax you.”
    Observant human. “My supposed friendless state?” She had him dead to rights there, other than his young halfling admirer.
    Then Lothaire frowned. No, he’d once had a boon companion. Until I was betrayed.
    “I knew by the puzzles,” Elizabeth said. “They’re a solitary recreation. A couple look very old, so I’d guess you’ve been interested in them for some time, probably since you were a boy.”
    Again, how unexpected. She was actually entertaining him.
    “Look, Lothaire, this won’t happen again. I’ll just go back to my room—”
    “Sit.” He pointed to a settee beside his desk. After a hesitation, she perched on the very edge of the cushion, with her back ramrod straight.
    “Relax, mortal.”
    “How can I when I have no idea what you’re going to do?” Her gaze flitted over the side of his face.
    He reached up, daubing at the slashes he’d forgotten. Fucking wraith. “I’m going to attempt to wind down from this day and night.”
    Still Elizabeth held herself stiffly, though she was exhausted. Smudges colored the skin under her eyes.
    “How did you learn to pick locks?”
    “On the weekends, my father worked as a handyman who did lock-smithing on the side.”
    “Before he died in the mine? All that work and you were still mired in poverty?”
    She lifted her chin, her eyes flashing.
    So proud. So little reason to be. “Did you enjoy searching my home?”
    “How long were you watching me?” she demanded.
    “How long do you think?”
    “Do you ever answer a question straightforward-like?”
    He made a habit of oblique replies. His inability to lie had made him skilled at misdirection. He didn’t often get called on it, though. “And you? You’re nearly as bad as I am.”
    “Fine. Yes, I enjoyed snooping around your apartment. I got to see things I never had before. I’ll probably dream of that chandelier tonight.” She bit her bottom lip. “Right after I get done dreaming of those jewels.”
    He’d surprised himself by showing them to Elizabeth, by wanting to see her reaction. Or perhaps he’d merely wanted any reaction whatsoever, any response to his gift.
    Saroya’s had been . . . lacking.
    “You truly think that’s what you’ll dream of?” he asked. “It’s more likely that you’ll relive the events of the past twenty-four hours.” He didn’t think she’d fully comprehended all that had happened to her. Her mind had been too busy futilely planning an escape—or suicide.
    But once she truly accepted that she was doomed . . . ? Everything she’d endured would catch up with her.
    All miseries catch up eventually.
    Would he experience Elizabeth’s near death in dreams? He’d taken enough of her blood earlier.
    “I’m not allowing myself to reflect about today,” she said.
    “Simple as that—your mind does as your will commands? Mind over mind?”
    She shrugged. “Something like that, yes.”
    He leaned forward in his seat. “So tonight, I have learned that you are unjustifiably proud. You believe yourself strong of will and keen of mind—”
    “I’m not un keen or weak-willed.”
    “—and you like to analyze things. I wonder what you would make of this?” He traced to his safe, retrieving his weighty ledger book.
    Never had he shown another person his accountings. But Elizabeth would soon be dead, and now he was curious to see what she’d say.
    He sat at his desk once more, opening the tome. “Come. View my ledger.”
    She hesitantly rose, then stood beside him. “I’ve never seen an account book like this.”
    It contained only two columns: Indebted and