Liu Yan pressed her white mink collar against her chin and let out a shrill, piercing laugh that echoed off the vaulted marble ceiling. She looked from Sister Clara’s patched wool habit to Lin Mo’s plain dark suit as if she had just walked into a circus.
“Lin Mo, are you completely out of your mind?” Liu Yan shrieked, pointing a crimson fingernail right at his nose. “You actually followed us all the way to Geneva just to play hero for a penniless old nun?”
Lin Mo didn’t even take his hands out of his pockets. He looked at Liu Yan’s murky gray-black halo hovering at two points out of a hundred, then glanced at the gaudy diamond bracelet clamped around her wrist.
Even the diamonds on that bracelet are low-grade synthetic spirit-glass, Lin Mo thought with deadpan amusement. She flew six thousand miles to hug a negative-seventy-eight vampire banker’s arm, and she still thinks she won the lottery.
“Follow you?” Lin Mo asked mildly. “Liu Yan, if I wanted to look at trash, I wouldn’t have needed to fly past the city dump in Jiangcheng.”
Liu Yan’s painted face twisted, and she tightened her grip on Baron Victor Julian von Lombard-Vane’s black cape. “Keep barking, you shameless liar! Do you have any idea whose bank you’re standing in right now?”
