As she walked up to the front door, though, her doubts disappeared. There were black roses everywhere.
There was an arch-shaped stained-glass window above the double doors, showing a black rose that had the same intricately knotted stem as the one on Hannah's ring. The same design had been worked into the crowns over the windows. It was used like a family crest or seal.
Just seeing all those roses made Hannah's heart beat faster.
Okay, then. Ring the doorbell, she told herself. And stop feeling like some Cinderella who's come to see what's keeping the prince.
She pushed the doorbell button, then held her breath as chimes echoed distantly.
Please. Please answer....
She heard footsteps approaching and her heart really started to pound.
I can't believe it's all been this easy....
But when the door opened, it wasn't Thierry. It was a college-age guy with a suit, brown hair pulled back into a short ponytail, and dark glasses. He looked vaguely like a young CIA agent, Hannah thought wildly.
He and Hannah stared at each other.
"Uh, I'm here to ... I'm looking for Thierry Des-couedres," Hannah said finally, trying to sound confident.
The CIA guy didn't change expression. When he spoke, it wasn't unkindly, but Hannah's heart plummeted.
"He's not here. Try again in a few days. And it's better to call one of his secretaries before showing up."
He started to shut the door.
A wave of desperation broke over Hannah. "Wait!" she said, and she actually stuck her foot in the doorway. She was amazed at herself.
The CIA guy looked down at her foot, then up at her face. "Yes?"
Oh, God, he thinks I'm a nuisance visitor. Hannah suddenly had a vision of swarms of petitioners lined up at Thierry's house, all wanting him to do something for them. Like supplicants waiting for an audience with the king.
And I must look like riffraff, she thought. She was wearing Levis and a shirt that was sweaty and wrinkled after tramping around the Strip all day. Her boots were dusty. Her hair was limp and disheveled, straggling over her face.
"Yes?" the CIA guy said again, politely urgent. .
"I ... nothing." Hannah felt tears spring to her eyes and was furious with herself. She hid them by bending down to pick up her duffel bag, which by now felt as if it were loaded with rocks.
She had never been so tired. Her mouth was dry and cottony and her muscles were starting to cramp.
She had no idea where to find a safe place to sleep.
But it wasn't the CIA guy's problem.
"Thank you," Hannah said. She took a deep breath and started to turn away.
It was the deep breath that did it. Someone was crossing the grand entrance hall behind the CIA guy and the breath delayed Hannah long enough that they saw each other.
"Nilsson, wait!" the someone yelled and came bounding over to the door.
It was a girl, thin and tanned, with odd silvery-brown hair and dark amber eyes. She had several yellowing bruises on her face.
But it was her expression that startled Hannah. Her amber eyes were wide and sparkling in what looked like recognition, her mouth was open in astonishment and excitement. She was waving her arms.
"That's her!" she yelled at the CIA guy, pointing to Hannah. "It's her! It's her." When he stared at her, she hit him in the shoulder. "Her!"
They both turned to stare at Hannah. The CIA guy had an expression now. He looked stunned.
Hannah stared back at them, bewildered.
Then, seeming dazed, the CIA guy very slowly opened the door. "My name is Nilsson, miss," he said. "Please come inside."
Stupid me, Hannah thought. Almost as an afterthought, she pushed straggling hair off her left cheek, away from her birthmark. I should have told them who I was. But how could I know they would understand?
Nilsson was talking again as he gently took her bag. "I'm very sorry, miss-I didn't realize ... I hope you
won't hold this-"
"Nobody knew you were coming," the girl broke in with refreshing bluntness. "And the worst thing is that Thierry's gone off somewhere. I don't think anybody knows where or when he'll be back. But meanwhile you'd better stay put. I don't want to think about what he'd do to us if we lost you." She smiled at Hannah and added, "I'm Lupe Acevedo."
"Hannah Snow."
"I know." The girl winked. "We met before, but I couldn't exactly introduce myself. Don't you
remember?"
Hannah started to shake her head-and then she blinked. Blinked again. That silvery-brown coloring...
those amber eyes...
"Yeah," Lupe said, looking hugely delighted. "That was me. That's how I got these bruises. The other wolf got it worse, though. I ripped him a new-"
"Would you like something to drink?" Nilsson interrupted hastily. "Or to eat? Why don't you come in and sit down?"
Hannah's mind was reeling. That girl is a werewolf, she thought. A werewolf. The last time I saw her she had big ears and a bushy tail. Werewolves are real.
And this one protected me.
She said dizzily, "I ... thank you. I mean, you saved my life, didn't you?"
Lupe shrugged. "Part of the job. Want a Coke?"
Hannah blinked, then laughed. "I'd kill for one."
"I'll take care of it," Nilsson said. "I'll take care of everything. Lupe, why don't you show her upstairs?"
He hurried off and opened a cellular phone. A moment later several other guys dressed like him came running. The strange thing was that they were all very young-all in their late teens. Hannah caught snatches of frantic-sounding conversation.
"Well, try that number-"
"What about leaving a message with-"