“Oh. Right. Well, I guess I did have him then,” Jane stammers. Yes! “Her you mean.” I smile smugly. “Professor Davis is a woman.”
“Of course.” She’s now searching the room, desperate for Magnus to come back. But it looks like her blood mate got stuck talking to one of his constituents. Sorry, Jane. “I knew that.”
Sure she did. “Great. So then maybe you can enlighten me. I’ve always wondered what Dominus illuminatio mea means. Can you explain its significance in a hundred words or less?”
Now she’s looking truly scared. “Dominos . . . illuminati . . . what?”
“You know, Oxford’s motto,” I say, in my best patronizing voice. “It’s on, like, all their stuff. You must have seen it while you were, you know, attending the school?”
“Oh right.” She recovers. “Of course I’ve seen it. I just didn’t take any . . . French classes . . .”
“You mean Latin classes?” I ask, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “The school motto is in Latin.”
“Or Latin,” she hastens to correct. “I concentrated my studies more on the European countries. Like Italy and stuff. Not . . . Latin countries. Hell, I don’t even like tacos.”
Oh geez. She’s dug herself in so deep with her lies now she’s probably about to hit China. But before I can point out the three thousand geographical mistakes this supposed master of international relations has just made in one breath, Magnus returns, carrying her steamed blood cappuccino. Saved by the vamp. Magnus hands the drink to Jane, then takes his seat. “Have you two been getting acquainted?” he asks hopefully.
“Oh yes,” I say, shooting Jane a smug smile. “I’m learning so much about her.”
Jane hastily rises from her seat, knocking over her drink in the process. I jump back so none of the bloody coffee gets on my outfit. “Sorry,” she mumbles, looking completely flustered. “I actually have . . . an appointment . . . that I forgot about. I need to get . . . there. So I’ll see you tomorrow.” And with that, she makes her escape.
Yes! She totally fell for my trap! I couldn’t ask for a better outcome to my investigation. Just call me Nancy Drew. Or at least Veronica Mars. I turn to Magnus. “So, I’ve done some research,” I inform him proudly. “And it’s clear that Jane is not who she says she is.”
Magnus stares at me. “What?”
“Well, she didn’t go to Oxford for one thing. I can tell you that.”
“Sunny, what are you talking about?” my boyfriend demands in a voice that seems to indicate he’s more annoyed at me than proud of my excellent detective work. What’s up with that? “Of course she went to Oxford.”
I feel bad having to tell him the truth. But it’s for his own good and will save us all from much frustration later. “But she didn’t, actually. I asked her some questions about the school and she was completely clueless. Hell, the girl didn’t even know about this famous teacher I Googled.”
“Sunny, Oxford is a huge school. Maybe she didn’t have that professor.”
“No, you don’t understand—”
But Magnus cuts me off. “I think I do,” he says, looking at me with pity.
“Sunny, I think you’re feeling a bit jealous of Jane. Which is perfectly understandable, given the circumstances. But please, I beg you, let’s not make this situation even more difficult than it already is, okay?”
I stare at him, speechless. I can’t believe it. He’s not even going to listen to me. He’s going to go ahead and make her his blood mate no matter what I say. Second in command of the Blood Coven. And who knows what kind of nefarious things she’ll do once she’s placed in the position of power. She’ll be just like Lucifent’s blood mate, trying to take over. And then Magnus will be forced to kill her, which will get Slayer Inc. on his ass. And then they’ll commission Rayne to slay him and my own twin sister will basically be forced to murder my boyfriend.
I can’t let this happen. I have to get him to believe me about Jane. But it’s clear I need more evidence. Irrefutable proof that this Jane girl is a big fat fake.
“When are you going to do the blood mate thing with her?” I ask, needing to know how much time I have to make my case.
He relaxes visibly, probably assuming I’ve given in. Which means he obviously doesn’t know me very well. “On Friday night,” he explains. “When we’re in Vegas for the consortium. The Blood Coven will host a traditional biting ceremony at midnight, where I will make Jane a vampire in front of all the other coven masters who will be in town for the meetings.”
In other words, just like a freaking wedding.
“It’ll actually be really good PR for the coven,” Magnus adds, as if I care about something like that. “After all, we’ve had a tough year. First the screwup with me biting you by mistake last spring, then Maverick’s attempted takeover, which permanently weakened a good many of our members. Not to mention Jareth—the coven general himself!—daring to bring a slayer into another coven’s lair without even telling them who she was. All I can say is thank God your sister didn’t stake anyone while she was there. It would have been devastating for our reputation.”
I can see his point, but that still doesn’t change anything. “Can I come?” I ask.
“I’ve never been to Vegas.”