Diavan grabbed a toolbox and a canvas grocery bag with the remainder of Zaqose’s merchandise from the back of the van. His bed and belongings were covered in unsold yard art, but I’d helped him move quite a few pieces. He’d been flummoxed by my method of pricing objects based on what I guessed people could pay, but it had evened out by the end of the day, and I hadn’t shorted him.
Dusk was settling as we strolled past the house—fortunately, neither the real-estate agent nor any HOA patrollers were around to stop us—and to the vampire’s dominion. I eyed the broken door warily, but Diavan went around to the back, where there was a secret entrance to what had once been a root cellar. He nudged a root in the grass to open it, then clomped down wide earthen stairs, ducking low to keep from hit
