Viviane's behavior started to make more sense. I'd spent more time with her since I got here than anyone else, so I'd had a front row seat.

Since we'd arrived, she'd been on a rollercoaster of emotion and action in front of me, so no telling what she was up to when I wasn't around. It was erratic yet purposeful.

How long had she been dealing with this?

Maybe not more than a month based on the perishables in the fridge, and the still evident trash. She obviously hadn't planned on letting us come here.

I started shamelessly rummaging through the rest of the trash can. Score! I found some cards and letters. Some had dried, red tears spattered on them. They all expressed love or complimented her talent and beauty. One said, "Tell me the penguin joke again." Penguin joke? Seriously? Damn, now I wanted to hear the penguin joke.

Each one was signed "Love, Charlie."

Charlie. He was a man who captured her heart, and now it was over.

If she was anything like Eric, she had resisted it, resisted having feelings, but when she gave in, she was all in. I guess the big question was: Did they break up or was he dead?

I started pulling open her desk drawers. I know shouldn't have done it, but I thought it was fair game a bit after all the places she'd inserted herself into my life. Even the playing field so to speak.

In the top left drawer, I found notepads and pens, all unused. The drawer below had hanging files. They were all labeled with words that looked like taxes and bills so I left it. The right drawer was more intriguing. It was an inkwell, writing plume and a beautiful embossed leather journal.

Did Viviane write her life down? Vampires had perfect memories, so it would be unnecessary. I slipped the denim blue cover out and ran my hands over the intricate pattern of Van Gogh's Starry, Starry Night. The leather felt so right, so delicious in my hands. I instantly wanted to know where I could get my own.

I flipped open the cover just to see if there was a brand or something. Nothing, so I tried the back. Oberon Designs. I wanted to look the company up later and find out more.

I realized suddenly that I had opened her journal. Mind you, I hadn't read anything except the brand, but I had opened it. I noticed a bookmark, so I turned to the page. Maybe she was just writing show ideas or a today in history thing.

Nope. It was dated last night.

I lost her. I freaking lost her because I can't keep my mouth shut. But I thought he'd told her that much. I told him he needed to tell her more than he did.

Then he found her at the Palms. I hope she comes back. I hate to think what she will do when she hears the rest. I do not wish him to suffer as I do.

Whoa. On top of being so, so, well, so Viviane, and by default, different than other vampires, she kept a fricking diary, and she used a quill to pen it. And she wrote about me.

I stuck the bookmark back in and started flipping backward through the pages. The next entry was about her excitement for the show and the big reveal. The last line was: I just wish he were coming. The next was in a language I didn't know, but it seemed to be written in a hurry.

Dated a week before I arrived in Vegas was a bizarre entry.

My maker is coming here. I wish he weren't. I am in no mood for the plan and now I have to move everything around. Asinine, paranoid monarch.

He will know something is wrong with me if he does not already know. I'm in no mood to play games, but I will. I must. I do not want to discuss Charlie with him. I do not wish to receive his smug advice on this matter.

A lie. I never tell him lies. I will evade if he asks about him. That is what he taught me.

I think my little gangster is ready for a return to the limelight.

She only decided last week to bring Tupac out tonight? She must have had that simmering for quite some time. And she wanted to have a secret from Eric – I guessed she meant Charlie and whatever happened with him.

I still felt really guilty about reading this, but I was all in now because she'd know I'd been in here. I might as well learn something useful.

I flipped back through, scanning for interesting things. Some were just about the show or the magazine article.

Then I spotted a one-line entry dated six weeks ago.

I told Charlie about my maker, and he left.

That was it, nothing else. Ouch, that was a harsh reaction. Was it any harsher than how I had reacted?

I had laughed and said he never felt guilty about anything. But the tear and the plea for me to not let her be right was proof. What he had said next echoed through my head.

"She told me you would not understand, not forgive me."

Viviane had warned him. It wasn't because she didn't want me to know – well, that could have factored in – she didn't want him to suffer like she was since Charlie walked out on her.

Did she tell Eric why? Or did she just beg him not to do it? Does Eric even know about Charlie at all? Surely he did if they had no secrets and she didn't want his advice.

I kept flipping, scanning for dates and names. I found an entry here and there about places she'd gone with Charlie and routines she was working on, but some entries appeared in languages I couldn't begin to decipher. Those always seemed to be hastily written.

Then I hit the jackpot. The word Tahoe jumped off the page.

Shreveport was intriguing. Eric's wife is amusing and feisty. They are a good match. I enjoyed besting him with the Tahoe. The look on his face could get me through many a boring meeting with a smile on my face. It's hard to pull one on the Viking, but I managed. She did need it, and the prince will be pleased I actually paid attention to his favor.

Pam was as lovely as I knew she'd look as a vampire, but she more amusing and adept than I could have imagined. She is suited to this life of ours. She was an excellent selection.

I sang with Bubba like old times. It was lovely. I hope that I might bring Charlie along next time; he would love it. And the cliché that is Eric's bar will amuse him.

The prince asked her for a favor? About me? Did she mean Niall? Because he was the only prince I knew that would care about me.

And this bit about Pam. I guess she meant from how Eric described her. But it almost seemed like she meant she'd seen Pam before she was turned. I thought back to the poster upstairs. Maybe she'd seen Pam in London. I'd have to ask Pam the years again before I could really figure anything out.

I looked at the first page in this volume. It listed the volume number. – 1268 – and the date she started it on. It was right about the time of my torture. I flipped to the first entry.

Today the pain subsided. I can only hope that he is fully released. I had to cancel rehearsal because I could not focus.

My spy told me what happened. I cannot sit back and allow this to continue. He is too good, too strong, too smart to be ruled be imbeciles.

So she had felt what happened to Eric all the way here. Interesting. Yet she didn't come. Vampire politics at its finest.

The silence broke, and I jumped like I had been caught.