The Vampire's Secret

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The Vampire's Secret Savannah Vampire Book 2

Raven Hart

Contents Title Page Dedication Epigraph Acknowledgments Letter from William, a Vampire Letter from Jack, a Vampire

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Letter from Eleanor, a Vampire Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen

Preview of The Vampire’s Kiss Praise for The Vampire’s Seduction Also by Raven Hart Copyright

This book is dedicated to the memory of Virginia Renfro Ellis, a gifted writer and visual artist, and a dear friend and mentor to many. Gin, you are loved and missed and continue to live on through your books and photos, which have brought enjoyment to so many people. See you on the other side.

Absence is to love what wind is to fire; it extinguishes the small, it enkindles the great. —COMTE DEBUSSY-RABUTIN

Acknowledgments I’d like to thank everyone who helped with this book, especially my editor, Chris Schluep, and everyone at Ballantine, and my agent, Claudia Cross. Thanks to everyone in Georgia Romance Writers and my friends in Southern Magic for their encouragement and support. Thanks also to Donna Sterling, Jennifer LaBrecque, Berta Platas, and Rita Herron for the cheerleading, brainstorming, and occasional, much-needed kicks in the behind. Special thanks to Richard Tuft for the draft reading, future location scouting, and other input. I couldn’t have done it without you guys. Thanks, too, to my mom and dad for their unwavering support.

Letter from William, a Vampire My name is William Cuyler Thorne, lately of Savannah. Once, a very, very long time ago, I was a husband…a father. A mortal who lived and loved without thought of the evil creatures abroad in the world. Now I am one of those evil beings. A blood drinker. A vampire. Just recently, after these many centuries, I’ve been required to make good on my life’s promise of revenge. “Put up or shut up,” as my offspring Jack would say. Presented with the opportunity to kill my villainous sire, Reedrek, once and for all and to end my immortal existence in the bargain, I embraced the chance. In our world, however, just as in the mortal version, things don’t always go as planned. In my dash to annihilation I approached the finish line only to be pulled back to the unliving by Jack ’s inscrutable logic. He needed me. Now I have discovered a name in an ancient book. A name etched into my overfull memory like a ragged scar. A name that will forever conjure love in my unbeating heart, existing next to the hatred there for the monster who took her from me. The book is a genealogy of Strigori—of vampires. The entry is Diana, England, 1528. My wife’s image—Diana’s lovely face—fills my thoughts and for a moment I feel the tiniest hope that I might find her again. I’ve set Olivia to the task of tracking this undead Diana. Yet the thought of Reedrek making my guiltless love into a bereft creature like me twists my gut. He would have had to mate with her to complete the transformation. The very possibility brings a surge of nausea to my otherwise cast-iron constitution. I would have torn her tormentor limb from limb before allowing him to ravage her soul. It had been hard enough to watch him kill her. It could not be so. By God, Reedrek couldn’t have so complete a victory over me and mine. Of course, if it were true, God had nothing whatsoever to do with it.

Letter from Jack, a Vampire My name is Jack McShane and I’m a master mechanic, a ladies’ man, a NASCAR fan, and a vampire—not necessarily in that order. Show me a car and I can fix it. Show me a woman, and I can seduce her. Show me a creature, human or not, that threatens my existence or the safety of my loved ones, and I will make sure it never leaves Savannah in one piece, at least not without that piece being chewed up and spit out. Literally. They say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, but this dog’s been kicking since the War Between the States and I’ve learned more about myself and my kind in the last few weeks than in all the time since I was made immortal. For example, all vampires are not created equal. Not all are peace-loving types like me and my sire, William Thorne. Mind you, I’d seen—and killed—my share of roving rogue vampires here and there, just to keep the peace. But I’d no idea there were whole packs of evil ones in Europe, and that some of them would be coming for us one day. But it all came out in the wash, as they say, and my sire no longer tries to keep me in the dark about such matters to protect me. He can’t afford to. He needs me armed with the truth and ready to fight at his side if need be. On the personal side, my love life was just getting interesting before all hell broke loose. I was smitten by a Mexican American beauty with eyes as black as onyx, hair like a skein of fine black silk, and a face that came to me in my dreams. I was on my way to cooking up something with her when I was given a task that would halfway break my heart. I tried to make a woman vampire and she died in the process, died “in the act,” as they say. That event shattered me, not just for the loss of the young lady involved but because of what it could mean for me and my Latin lovely, Connie. See, she doesn’t know it, but Connie’s special. Really special. Like, not-so-human special. How do I know? I can feel it. I can feel her power from across a room, and when I’m holding her in my arms I can feel the vibrations of it. She thrums with the power of goodness and light. I don’t know where her power comes from, but it’s from a better and more wholesome place than the dark and unholy pit from which my own power slithers. And since Connie isn’t human, I don’t know what would happen if or when we did the deed. I don’t know if I’m more afraid that she would be harmed like the woman I tried to make into a vampire, or if I just can ’t stand the thought of the evil of my own nature tarnishing her. But I want her. Make no mistake about that. I want her with every undead cell in my body. So I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t. In any case, I’m damned. But you knew that much already.

One

Savannah, Georgia January 2007

William Eleanor whimpered from pleasure—not pain—as I tore away the leather laces of her corset. The smooth black material was warm from her skin. I unlaced the front and watched as the tight leather opened before me like a ripe pomegranate, spilling her breasts into my nimble hands. Any other night I would have suckled them, rolling the nipples with my tongue and nipping with my unnaturally sharp teeth. I would have followed the sinuous curve of the snake tattoo from breasts to belly with my thirsty mouth, then quenched my lust between her thighs. But on this night, rather than the sweet nectar of sex, I would be sucking blood. All her blood. Tonight Eleanor would become a vampire, or die in the trying. Ghostly voices whispered around us, alternately urging me on and begging me to stop. I could not stop. I ’d given my word. Humans thought little enough of honor. The ability to follow through on promises or threats meant more to a vampire. At least it did to me. Broken promises had a tenacious way of following one around. Centuries ago, I was educated by my treacherous sire in the art of swearing without the intention or the means to follow through. Of course, becoming a blood drinker left little I could not do. Except perhaps defend the ones I loved. Diana, my heart. If there had been some way to save you… I’d set a task for Olivia, Alger’s precocious offspring, to further investigate the woman—the vampire—listed in her ancient book. Olivia had sworn on her honor she would not fail. She had not failed. Not the one you seek…I swear it. So I’d put away the horror and the hope that somehow, as Reedrek had claimed, my wife still lived, in a manner of speaking, as one of the undead. As one of us. Olivia’s pronouncement sent me back into reality. Lovely Diana died centuries ago and I had avenged her death. It was time to stop thinking about her and concentrate on Eleanor. And just now…Eleanor needed saving from me, although she thought not. In this vampire -making business, all my beautiful consort needed to hear was that she would live forever and be bound to me for the next two hundred years—bound to her teacher, her lover, her maker. Not in a marriage, or even a “relationship” in the human sense. Either of us could choose to have others. But she would always be my blood kin, could call on me in need, would defer to my wishes. In the time I’d known her, she’d accepted little advice, including warnings from Jack, Melaphia, or even me. She had her own plans for the future, and I had promised…and I needed her. We were set to begin. Melaphia had prepared Eleanor, removing her street clothes, taking a sample of her un -tainted blood, cutting a lock of her long black hair. I rested my cool hand over Eleanor’s living, beating heart. She arched her back and sighed, holding my gaze with her own.

“Are you sure?” I asked one final time. “I am.” I took up one of her hands, kissed it, then slid a loop made from the leather laces over her wrist. She sucked in a breath as I tied her right hand above her head. After capturing her left and repeating the process, I doubled the laces and secured her ankles. I did not want her thrashing about; I was determined to do her as little physical damage as possible. I drew in the smell of her excitement. She didn’t know enough yet to be afraid. We’d played these kinds of games before, never going beyond symbolic bloodletting and good furious fucking. Thinking of those times, I lowered my hand between her spread thighs and teased her open. She was slick with desire. I was hard with bad intention. I would give her what she wanted but first she had to see me, truly see me for what I was, and see what she would become. Closing my eyes, I allowed my hunger to rise. Bloodlust tightened my jaw, made my hands tremble. The invisible voices around us gathered and babbled louder as I felt my savage teeth extend. I needed every thread of control to open my eyes and smile. Eleanor gasped, her dark gypsy eyes going wide at the sight of me. “Do you see your killer angel now?” I rasped in a voice I barely recognized. Her “yes” came out on a puff of warm breath. Her voice shook. “Save me or kill me. I don’t care.” At that point, neither did I. Oh, how my sire Reedrek would have loved this. I could almost hear the echo of laughter from his silent, earth-bound tomb. His self-righteous offspring doing the abominable to an innocent human, out of love. On some level Reedrek would feel the change caused by the making of Eleanor, the tweak of his power. But he was buried too deep to enjoy the new energy source. It would give his maggoty mind something delicious to contemplate. We’d determined that a righteous killing was too good for my notorious sire. Better to have him completely powerless and alone in the constant dark—exactly what he’d planned for Alger, the closest I’d ever had to a brother, before Reedrek had been forced to kill him instead. Reedrek would remain awake but dead to this world. Buried under a constant supply of uncoerced blood—the new state-of-the-art blood bank we’d built with charitable contributions. Just thinking of his impotence sent a warm feeling through my otherwise hate-frozen heart. And now, here was my Eleanor to think of, she who must be obeyed. It took a special kind of person to know what she wanted, and then to go about getting it. Eleanor wanted me. And as a woman used to giving orders, she also wanted absolute power over the men she’d had to please through the years. She was willing to face death for the opportunity to have both. My honor rested on not disappointing her. The future of my bloodline depended on increasing our number. “Close your eyes,” I whispered, knowing somewhere in my blood-crazed mind that she would never forget this moment. Better to have merely pain to remember rather than betrayal by one she loved. As though we were already connected, she did as I asked but answered my whisper with her own. “I love you.” I sang a silent, dulcet song to her mind, calming, arousing, mesmerizing, as I lowered my face to within millimeters of her skin to draw in a long breath of her. She smelled of all things human: sun, heat, blood. I would miss those parts of her, but there were other things I would gain. My cool lips touched her fragrant skin in a farewell kiss. Then I bit down hard, like a lion taking down a gazelle. The sound of her gurgling scream echoed through the room, accompanied by pitying voices of lost spirits. She was closer to them now than to me. Her spirit blinking in the dark, while her body writhed in my deadly embrace. As her hot heart ’s blood rushed into my mouth I began to lose focus. It had been so long since I had been filled. In one last act of love I shoved my hand down between her thighs and felt her body buck in orgasm. Pleasure for the pain. For my sweet Eleanor…whose valiant heartbeat grew fainter, slower, until it stopped altogether.

Dead. I kissed her pale cool lips before picking up a gold knife and cutting a vein in my wrist, using my own —our mingled—blood to make the sign of the four winds. Eleanor… Dear one, come back to me…now. After an interminable few moments, she made a fearful, mewling sound. Something I would wager she had not done in waking life since childhood. I fought off a choking assault of guilt. She wanted this, had begged for this… Wake up, Eleanor. You are mine now. Come back. With a shudder, her body rose from the table, levitating upward, then floated before me. I grasped a handful of her dark fall of hair as it swung free and brought it to my face. Eleanor, sweet. Wake up. She moaned, my name on her lips. I pressed her downward until her back touched the table, then replaced her sigh of surprise with my bloody wrist. Drink. She opened her eyes wide, then ran a parched tongue along her lower lip before licking at the blood. Her lips and mouth knew what to do. The oh-so-familiar sound of her sucking sent waves of greedy hunger under my skin, transporting me back to other nights, other…pleasures. My cock stiffened to rock-hard attention and in another moment I was locked in my own unexpected, jaw-clenching orgasm. The sucking continued along with the pleasure as I strained to remain standing. We were both gasping by the time I managed to pull away before sliding to the floor.

I opened my eyes to darkness, silence, and cold stone at my back. Melaphia’s familiar dark face floated above me lit by the candle in her hand. She looked concerned. “Are you all right, Captain?” I felt much better than all right. My skin seemed hot enough to burst into flame. Then I remembered. Eleanor. I was filled with her blood, her life. The long forgotten ecstasy of being what I was created to be, a killer of humans, caused me to rise off the stone floor. Without effort I was standing. “I’m well,” I answered, momentarily wondering how I must look to others—well fed, at the very least. Melaphia watched me with adoring eyes but made no further comment. I took the candle from her hand and approached the new coffin I’d had delivered. Eleanor lay inside, naked but less pale. She was sleeping. The snake tattoo undulated slightly as I touched the marks over her heart made by my teeth. Healing from the inside, the skin had already closed. Melaphia had cleaned away the blood I’d spilled. “Jack helped me move her. He’s upstairs.” I reached out to Jack’s mind briefly with my own and found worry. Not about Eleanor—about me. “Thank you,” I said to Melaphia. “Please tell him to wait. I’ll be up in a few moments.” Melaphia nodded before moving away. I heard her footsteps echo, then stop in the passageway, probably to attend her altars. There would be nothing more the orishas or anyone could do until Eleanor suffered through and, hopefully, survived her darkest

night. I gently closed the coffin and locked it. As for me, I felt hot and restless. There would be no sleep, yet very little suffering on my part—unless you count listening to one you…love endure being destroyed cell by cell and reborn. It couldn’t be helped or stopped at this point. Now I needed to clean up, to wash away Eleanor’s blood and the evidence of her strong sexual pull on my psyche. Perhaps I’d walk the streets or haunt the tunnels until she called me back. With her screams.

Jack William walked right by me, ignoring my hello. “Let’s go,” he commanded. I followed him out of the house and into the dark, my eyes dilating like the good night creature I was. The moonless night was just about as bright as I remember daylight being, only more shadowy around the edges. I still wasn’t used to the enhanced power of my senses. Of course I’d had my acute vampire senses ever since William had made me on a night much like this one in the middle of a bloody battlefield during the War Between the States. But it was only since I drank the older -than-dirt blood of the mambo priestess named Lalee that I felt like I had superpowers, even for a vampire. And so much had happened to rock my world in the last couple of months that I felt I needed superpowers to take it all in. The eaglelike vision and the sense of smell a bloodhound would envy were the least of it. I’d come as near to being destroyed as I ever had in the century and a half of my existence, and that’ll get a boy’s attention. Not to mention the worldwide vampire politics I was about to get embroiled in. Hard to believe not long ago all I had to worry about was running my all -night garage and trying to remember not to call a girl by the wrong name at the wrong time, if you get my drift. Now my concerns were on a grander scale, much like my powers. “Thanks in advance for handling this,” William said as we set off for River Street. “Since many of the details need to be taken care of during daylight hours, you can delegate some of the work to your friends at the garage as you see fit. And don’t forget to consult Eleanor often. I want her place to be built back exactly as she wants it. Damn the cost.” “Sure, no problem. I know you’ve got a lot on your mind.” “You’re the master of the understatement, Jack. As always.” I wanted to ask him what else besides the obvious was bothering him, not that the obvious wasn’t enough. In the month or so since the famous Halloween retro-party—a party that had ended with a real bang, as William and his sire, Reedrek, faced off against each other—he’d been busy organizing scattered clans of North American vampires into a federation that could withstand an assault from a vicious band of European bloodsuckers. There was a good chance that Reedrek, who’d nearly killed us and had burned down Eleanor’s home and business in the bargain, had set us up for extermination. Eleanor herself—who I suspected was the only woman William had loved in the last five hundred years—was teetering between death and living death even as William and I walked the few blocks to the site of her house. Locked in a coffin, she was about to enter a phase of her making so agonizing that most humans didn’t survive it. Especially female humans. If she did survive, she and William could spend eternity side by side. Or not. If she didn’t “make,” as we say in the vampire biz, she got a one-way E ticket to the everlasting flames of hell. Yeah, you could say William had a lot on his mind. But besides all this there was something else. My knack for reading William had improved along with my other senses, but he could still block my mind to a great extent, and he was doing it right now. I could tell, though, that the problem was serious, whatever it was. William and I were about as stubborn as a well-matched team of mules. He wouldn’t tell me what was wrong until he was good and ready.

We reached the site of the burned house and inspected how the demolition company I ’d hired had cleared the site and the builder had poured concrete for the foundation of the new construction. William seemed pleased, always a good thing. After our recent…misunderstandings, I’d returned to my role as his right-hand man. It didn’t bother me as much as it used to. William was almost treating me as an equal. I tried to remember the last time he’d thanked me “in advance.” I couldn’t. It was a start. “I thought we’d get some of the SCAD people to work on the design, at least for the exterior,” I said, taking a seat on one of the benches that lined the square. The students at the Savannah College of Art and Design are experts on restoring old buildings —or building new ones from scratch that strictly follow the authentic architecture of Savannah’s history. William was a big supporter of protecting the character, as he called it, of his city. William sat on the other end of the bench and stared at nothing. I continued, “…and then I thought we’d have some drunk Saint Patrick’s Day tourists come in and do the interior decorating. Maybe vomit green beer all over the place.” “Whatever you think best,” William agreed. I stared at him until he finally came around. William is the strongest creature I ’d ever known—not counting my granddaddy Reedrek, who was hopefully spinning in his grave. Savannah has its share of badass individuals, both human and not quite. William is the baddest of them all. But even he’d been shaken by recent events. It had to be a kick in the pants to be all ready to kiss the immortal world good-bye, then be talked out of dying by yours truly. Jack McShane, prodigal son, at your service. “Sorry,” he said, and rubbed his eyes. Since he had just gorged himself on Eleanor ’s lifeblood, William’s skin, ordinarily alabaster pale like mine, was almost ruddy. This must’ve been what he looked like when he was alive. I could just see him in my mind’s eye, riding through his fields in the English countryside five hundred years ago. He sighed. “It’s just that in addition to everything else, there’s still so much I need to tell you.” I said nothing. For more than a century, William had kept so many things secret about what it meant to be a vampire that I had no clue even what to ask. As a result, I’d nearly slid down the slippery slope of resentment smack into Reedrek’s power. It turned out that William had only been trying to protect me. But now that our survival was at stake, he’d decided an uneducated offspring was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Finally I said, “Yeah, I could have used a lecture about the birds and the bees before I had sex with a female vampire. It wasn’t exactly the same experience as it is with a human woman.” A hint of a smile played across William’s mouth and then evaporated. “I must admit I overheard your parting conversation with Olivia, and Melaphia filled in the blanks about your little tryst. Usually, a female vampire draws power from a male during sex. I take it the opposite occurred, and you sapped Olivia’s strength to a remarkable degree, increasing your own.” “Yeah, you could say that. She was wrung out like a dishrag when we got through, and not in a good way. I guess I ’m just a freak,” I said sheepishly. “I mean, I’m a freak to begin with since I’m a vampire. And now I’m a freak’s freak.” William looked at me thoughtfully. “I’d say you’re…gifted.” “Huh? I don’t feel gifted. I screwed up my only shot at making another vampire. Shari deserved better than being dumped on the dark side of nowhere because of me.” “Yes, losing Shari was unfortunate. But, think about it, Jack. We always knew you were special. Your powers of communication with the dead of the lesser realms rival Melaphia’s when she’s working her best magic. And look at the way you were able to enthrall a human on your first try—a skill some vampires without voodoo blood never master no matter how hard they work at it. Add to that what happened between you and Olivia. It’s unprecedented.” “Gee, don’t I feel special,” I groused. “Why do you think I’m different?” I tilted my head upward, sniffing the breeze. The bakery farther down the street had begun baking for the following day. Sometimes I miss regular food. The yeasty, buttery smell of

warm bread would’ve made my mouth water when I was human. Now the only thing that can get a rise out of me is fresh blood. Or raw meat. “You know the answer,” William continued. “What makes you different from any other vampire on earth?” “How should I know? I’m not the only one with voodoo blood in his veins. There’s you and the other imported Eurovamps that you gave your own blood to.” “But you’re the first who was born of the blood, Jack. You were the first to receive the voodoo blood as your initial animating force.” “But what about Werm? You made him, too.” “I made him when I was in a weakened state. I’d been burned and bled by Reedrek and the essence of the voodoo blood I had left was being used to heal me. There couldn’t have been much left over for Werm. He might have some special abilities we haven’t discovered yet, but I doubt they’re of much significance. Plus, he was such a pitiful specimen to begin with. Entirely unsuitable vampire material. Besides, you’re a first-generation child of the voodoo blood like me now, and Werm’s a level removed from that.” “How do you figure?” “Since you just received your own dose of Lalee’s life force right from the source, and since the ancient blood is now used up, there will only ever be the two of us. As a first-generation vampire of the mambo blood, I have certain abilities that others don’t possess, such as my way with the shells. Since you’re just beginning to spread your wings, as it were, there’s no predicting what additional powers you might discover for yourself. Your ability to draw strength from a female during mating and your communication skills could be just the beginning.” I pondered that a minute. “The night of the shindig in October we gave about a drop of Lalee ’s blood to each of the other vampires after the fight. What about that?” “It was enough to heal their wounds, which were substantial, and I expect they’re somewhat stronger than they were before, but they’re not as strong as you were even before that night.” My thoughts returned to the woman in the coffin back at William ’s. “So what does that mean for Eleanor? She’s not first generation, but you’re back up to full strength now that you got another dose of the special blood. She’ll be at least as powerful as I was before I drank half that vial.” William looked solemn again. “We won’t know what it means for her until the process is complete. If she survives the transition, then I’ll animate her with my power. For all I know, from now on sex between her and me could be—” “Dynamite. Literally,” I finished for him. He looked into the distance. “Yes.” In a short time, William would be listening to the screams of the woman he loved as she writhed in agony in her coffin. He would sit there for hours in an obscene mimicry of a dutiful husband sitting by the side of the woman laboring to bear his child. Except the woman’s life-giving force was being taken away. Then there would be the violent mating ritual to seal the deal. If she made it to immortality, the first female vampire ever to be born of the voodoo blood would be loosed on us all. Saints have mercy. I was off into my own little worry party when William suddenly changed the subject. “Jack? Do you know why I hate Reedrek enough to burn along with him?” “Because he’s an evil, smelly, scumsucking son of a bastard’s whore?” I ventured.

William’s mouth quirked upward on one side, almost a smile. Then the dark mood settled over him again. “No, but that applies.” My sire switched his attention from the distance and onto me. “Because he killed my family. My wife.” His words fired up the image I’d seen when I’d been chasing them, William and Reedrek, the morning after the party. I’d seen William’s family killed, a side effect of the voodoo blood, I guess. “Her name was Diana…?” I managed. “I saw her in a vision.” Crap. It wasn’t too often old Jack McShane was at a loss for words, but this was one of those times. William shook his head. His unnatural green eyes held me prisoner. “That last morning with Reedrek…He said she was alive and I called him a liar. He would have said anything to sway my purpose. Beyond that, I can’t ever remember a time when he willingly told me the truth. Whatever the case, I had to find out for myself.” He sighed. “I contacted Olivia and she says…” William paused for a moment. “The one in question is not my Diana.” “That sucks,” I managed. He looked away again. “Yes, I’m afraid it does. I’ve waited all these years for revenge, thinking it was the only reason to live. Then for a moment I had the smallest hope that I could find her again.” “But now you have Eleanor.” “Well, yes, and that would have presented a dilemma.” I couldn’t imagine how having a hot female vamp at his beck and call until the end of time would be a problem. Especially since Eleanor was totally crazy about his brooding freakin’ highness. “I have to say, I don’t see the problem. All right, so you loved your Diana. I thought you…cared about Eleanor.” “I do and I will, but, had Diana still been alive, I’d already be on my way to find her.” “Yeah, I see your point.” I thought of Connie and how she was different from any other female I ’d known. “Eleanor’s not Diana.”

William The chat rooms were busy at bloodygentry.com. Good. I wished to lose myself in business—push my concern for Eleanor into the background until she called for me. Jack and I had walked the streets until after midnight. Any later and we would have drawn undue attention from the few humans out at that hour on a Monday evening. And I wasn’t in the mood for the tunnels—the smell of death, the tomblike quiet. So I’d returned to my office, to my computer, and to my incoming mail. Once on the ether, I searched for gold amidst the straw. From Tobias under the racing guise of the Dark Knight: We’ve had a meeting of minds on the West Coast—northern and southern. I’ll see you at the new moon. Plans are to do a little racing. I’ll be bringing a friend. Stay cool, man. Cool indeed, I thought before hitting REPLY. Jack would be pleased to hear the news. I wrote, My kindred and I look forward to it. From Gerard under the guise of G. Mendel: I have proxies from the Midwest and Montreal. Interesting progress on blood tests. I should have most results before I arrive. After witnessing Jack’s transformation the night of the party—and nearly being exterminated in the melee—Gerard, ever the scientist, had taken a sample of Jack’s blood to explore the mutation and its possibilities. Even I had no idea how it worked, other than the obvious—Lalee and her voodoo blood had saved our immortal skins.

If Eleanor survived this night’s ordeal, I would send the samples of her blood and hair to Gerard as well. I had yet to hear from anyone in the northeast or Texas, but they would come as I’d asked. They understood the consequences of ignoring a challenge from the old sires, if and when it came. Most still bore the scars from unnatural servitude to their makers. The list of horrors they’d endured was long, the past thick with blood, gore, and pain. They had helped form the Abductors, a secret intervention group to rescue tortured offspring, and we would fight off any attempt at recovery —tooth and nail. Fang and claw. After emancipation, there would be no going back to old-sire slavery. Better to burn in hell. But we had to organize quickly. Reedrek was buried deep in the ground, unable to communicate with his allies because an ocean lay between them, but they would search for him. They could already have their sights set on Savannah. If they came for him and incidentally for me, the other New World families must be prepared. I’d already set Jack and Werm to organize a watch on the harbor. My human employees would happily accept double-time pay to unknowingly guard us and the city. I moved on to a missive from Olivia, who was back in England: The Bonaventures send greetings to you. I am the envy of all since I’ve met you in person. There are only a handful of us within easy distance but word is on the wind. I expect to have a respectable group by Candlemas. We are women; hear us roar. Now, Olivia roaring, that I could imagine. Or, rather not. Not yet. Our mouths are shut but we have ears and eyes open. Tell Jackie-boy I’m keeping his secret so far, and he owes me. Yes, Olivia was not one to admit she’d been bested in any way by a New World upstart. Especially at sex. After the meeting I may be out of touch for a few weeks. Traveling east to promote the cause, you know. It is a comfort to know you are there where we all need you to be. Ta-ta. That was the problem with being a renegade. Others had come to depend on my talent for rebellion. After developing my hobby of smuggling persecuted offspring into the New World, I ’d somehow become the leader in a second revolutionary war. This conflict, when it came, could turn out to be a much greater disaster for the West. No easy-to-shoot Redcoats, these. The demise of the Native American tribes had nothing on what would happen if a clan of old-sire vampires descended on this continent. The humans that I walked among had no clue about their vulnerability. Only a coalition of undead former slaves stood between the New World and the rampaging hordes of the old. We had to be faster and smarter to turn back the wave and survive the bloodletting. As I opened a message from Iban, I felt more than heard Eleanor’s first scream. A different type of dark business needed my attention. Thank you for your offer of hospitality, I look forward to seeing you and your beautiful city once more. I will have you meet my assistant, S. We are in discussions for the next movie project. I believe you’ll be interested in the subject matter. Mi casa es su casa, I wrote. And it was true. Iban had earned my respect and gratitude from the first day we’d met. I trusted him with my life, such as it was. Iban had a wealth of experience with the old sires. Hadn ’t the Spanish Inquisition lasted for more than three hundred years? On arrival in the New World he’d been barely a collection of living bones. It had taken decades of care for him to recover— Eleanor’s growing distress pulled at my thoughts. It had begun. I pushed SEND and shut the machine down. I’m coming, Eleanor…

Eleanor pounded on the lid of the coffin like a wild thing. Between guttural curses and terrified screams she frantically called my name as if something were eating her alive—from the inside out. And I was helpless. I could only sit and wait. Answering her did no good. She was writhing in some other dark place that neither my voice nor my powerful mind could penetrate. There would be no comfort, no familiarity until it was over. Had I made a terrible mistake? I’d reached out and banished Eleanor’s mortal soul. Did her permission make it any less heinous? I shoved my hands through my hair and covered my ears. The screams led my long memory back, replaying the past like a broken record…Diana, Diana, Diana. I stood and began to pace, doing my damnedest to leave the past be. There had to be something I could do for Eleanor, some way to ease her terror. Then I heard the ocean, the calming call of the shells. Whether because of my distress or the new dose of Lalee’s ancient blood I’d taken, I didn’t have to retrieve them; they came to me of their own accord. As quickly as my mind registered need, the bone box appeared, floating before me for the using. I knew the shells could transport my waking mind through time and space like a dream. But could they take me to the dark place where Eleanor lay trapped? And could I do anything once I got there? There was only one way to find out. From one of Melaphia’s altars I took the long braided lock of hair she had cut from Eleanor. I tied the hair around my wrist, then plucked the box from the air and cast the shells. Eleanor… Closing my eyes, I touched the soft strands of what remained mortal, and waited for the sight of her. I was transported to unnatural darkness, but as a night creature, that is my element. I can discern shapes in the deepest caves of the earth and on the floor of the ocean, but this darkness wasn’t earthly. This was a suffocating, unnatural shadow, the total absence of light or even light’s memory. Yet there were sounds. The slither of scales on rock, the slow sliding footsteps of bereft wandering creatures. With a low pitiful whine, something shivering cold brushed by me. Then a guttural growl came from the distance, followed by a shriek. Was this an in-between dimension or had I been delivered to the dark side of hell? Eleanor’s body in the coffin was screaming but if her suspended spirit had been banished to this dark place, how would I find her? “Eleanor?” I said aloud in case she was near and could hear my voice. The sound echoed and set off a cacophony of reactions. The beings who inhabited this damned place closed in around me, speaking, entreating, threatening all at once. The din was beyond alarming. Even a vampire knows when to step back. Yet somewhere in the chaos I heard the desperate whisper of Eleanor’s answer. “William, I’m here. Don’t leave me—” For the first time in my overlong existence, I needed light. “Stand back,” I ordered those clustered around me, and drew myself into a killing posture, calling on any power the shells could provide. Let there be light… I felt the spirit of Lalee rise through me, toes to ears, like oil through a lantern wick. As my essence grew taller, a brilliant wash of illumination lit the area. It took several seconds to realize the luminescence emanated from my skin. It took half that long to regret my request for vision. Some things are better left to the dark.

Here there be dragons. There have been poems written to the velvet sky, but this place had the total inky darkness and none of the stars. No light could penetrate the utter black above all who roamed beneath it. As far as my borrowed power could penetrate the gloom there were beings—moving, searching, squirming in their dank bucket like mindless worms. Their howling moans set my teeth on edge. Gerard, ever the scientist, would have had a field day with this supernatural evolution run amok…from amorphous slugs leaving trails of slime to zombielike humans, wild -eyed and witless. A primal forest of teeth dripping blood, lolling tongues and blank, horrified eyes. This was a den of demons to give anyone pause, but I had other things to think about. In the distance, Eleanor, or her essence, called to me, though ten thousand trapped souls stood between us. The closest demons had drawn back—driven away by the unfamiliar light. Then with a growl, one of the larger ones leaped toward me like an overgrown rabid dog, his yellow canines bared. I braced myself for the attack but, as Reedrek had on the Alabaster, the snarling attacker sailed through my insubstantial form, leaving behind an essence that smelled of ripe dead meat. The demons he inadvertently crashed into roared at his failure and proceeded to bite and rip his body until all that remained was blood and gore… and teeth. Bon appétit. Then they all fell silent, whether from shock or fury I could not say. And I didn ’t care. For the moment, I had become a lord of light instead of darkness, and I intended to use any advantage I could find. I waded into the demons and they fell back before me, covering their eyes like pilgrims in the desert who’ve discovered a flaming angel in their midst. Hallelujah! By the time I reached Eleanor, a press of demons silently at my heels, my large demonic attacker had been mostly reconstituted by whatever power reigned in that terrible place. He pushed his way through the others to get a better look. He only had one eye now. Failure had its consequences. “William!” Eleanor flung herself at me, again with little result. The ripple of sensation caused by our joined spirits was a brief and mostly pleasant experience. She smelled alternately of magnolia and fear. I tried to comfort her, but without touch it was difficult. Our connection was rooted in the physical, in sex. We’d never taken time to discuss philosophy. “I won’t let them harm you.” I moved toward her until she stood inside the circle of my light and our spirit forms overlapped slightly. She crossed her arms and hugged herself, perhaps imagining my not-so-human comfort. “Why am I here? This isn’t how you said it would be.” Her voice shook with growing horror. “Am I dead?” She wanted to know if she’d been summarily sent to hell. I couldn’t set her spirit at ease without lying, since there’d always been the chance she might be lost. I raised a hand and pushed glowing fingers along her cheek. She closed her eyes and sighed as if she could feel the touch. “Help me.” “I’ll see you through it. I won’t leave you.” And as easily as that I’d made another promise. One that might be both end and bitter beginning. If Eleanor did not survive her making, then both of us would be caught in the dark. A buzz and a hiss traveled through the throng. There was movement, a shifting on one side. “William…” I heard my name again and glanced down toward Eleanor. She had her gaze on the crowd, on the disturbance in the distance. A small glow seemed to be moving in our direction—the light was pinkish white. With much grumbling and growling the crowd parted and another angel stood before us. No, not an angel. Shari. Jack’s first attempt at making a vampiress. She looked very different from the last time I’d seen her. Her honey blond hair had turned silvery white; her warm amber eyes, a glimmering gray. Fey as the fabled Sidhe. Her burial clothes were torn at the sleeve and shredded at the hem; her bare feet were

bloody. “William,” she said again, as though she couldn’t believe her sight. “You’ve come to save me?” she breathed, awestruck. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her otherwise. “I’ll do my best, girl.” Then her gaze shifted from me to Eleanor. She moved forward and put out her hand as though we’d just arrived at a party and needed introductions. “I’m Shari,” she said. Without releasing her contact with me, Eleanor made an effort to take Shari’s insubstantial hand. “I’m Eleanor.” Then they both looked at me for what should come next. Where was Jack when I truly needed him? “Are you all right?” I asked, ridiculous as it might seem. Shari seemed to shrink inside her pale glow, then nervously glanced around the circle of hideous onlookers. “They don’t bother me much, now that I have protection. The lady—Melaphia told me what to do when they try to scare me.” “And what is that?” Obediently, Shari bowed her head and began a low chant.

Jack I had to go to William’s office at the harbor warehouse to help his foreman, Tarney Graham, work out a schedule of men to watch the harbor and waterfront for anything suspicious —like, say, a shipment of coffins and old dirt —that could indicate a vampire invasion. As I left the building I felt a presence in the shadows: someone watching me. I acted as if I heard nothing, continuing down the boardwalk a ways. Someone behind me matched his steps to mine, thinking that the clatter of my cowboy boot heels would mask the noise of his own footsteps. I wheeled and with one blow caught my stalker in the chest, knocking him to the ground. “I thought I told you never to try to sneak up on me,” I said, extending my fangs for show. Lamar Nathan Von Werm, or just plain old Werm, as William and I referred to him, got to his feet and dusted himself off. “I was just practicing my vampire…sneaking skills, that’s all.” A short time ago, Werm was nothing but a vampire wannabe. He was unique among the goth crowd he ran with in that he ’d been clever enough to figure out that vampires really do exist. Werm had actually researched vampires and he made me for one fair and square when he witnessed my lack of reflection in a downtown shop window. He’d stalked me for a while until I caught him in the act. After that, he begged me to make him a vampire, which I of course refused to do. It was only through sheer dumb luck, if that’s what you want to call it, that he happened to be in the wrong place at the right time and finally got his wish. Reedrek had forced William to make Werm a blood drinker. Werm hadn’t quite gotten over his romantic notions of vampirism or “the brotherhood of the blood,” as he liked to call it. He had a lot to learn, and, unfortunately, William had made it my job to teach him. Somebody had to. Anybody who would willingly choose this existence was too dumb to come in out of the sun. “Vampire sneaking skills?” I hissed. “Listen here, junior, vampires don’t have to sneak.” “How else do you surprise your victims so they don’t run away before you get a chance to bite their neck and suck their blood?” He shrugged his narrow shoulders. He’d been pale even before he vamped out. Now, with his white blond hair and punk outfit, he looked like some scaled-down version of Johnny Winter without the guitar. I stared at him, disgusted. “If I ever catch you preying on an innocent human being, I’m going to drain you and leave your dry husk out in the sun to vaporize, you understand me? Where have you been getting your blood?”

“At the butcher shop, like you taught me,” Werm whined. “But no matter how much pig’s blood I drink, it’s almost like I’m… still hungry.” “You’ll get used to it. Just remember, not killing humans without cause is what separates us from the old lords, the evil ones.” He shivered. “Like Reedrek. I know. But can’t I bite an evildoer, some really nasty criminal?” Werm knew that William and I dealt out vigilante justice from time to time. When there was a particularly evil human on a murder or rape spree in Savannah, we would not suffer that person to live. My sire and I didn ’t have to concern ourselves with such niceties as due process, and there was no potential for mistaken identity because we could literally smell out evil. We served as judge, jury, and executioner. “You don’t have the chops yet to make sure you’ve got the right bad guy. You might go hurting some good ol’ boy by mistake. Leave the justice-bringing to me and William.” I winced, realizing I sounded more like William every day—keeping Werm on a need-to-know basis. “Then what do I have the chops to do?” Werm wailed. “I’m a vampire, for Pete’s sake. I want to do something…vampirey.” Werm held out his leather-clad arms and let them fall to his sides. “William promised to teach you more about being a vampire. Have you learned anything juicy?” His face fell when I explained that William hadn ’t really had a chance to start teaching me, what with making Eleanor and working on vampire politics. “I did learn one thing that’s pretty interesting, though,” I said. “What?” Werm asked eagerly. “Whatever traditional powers vampires usually have, we have ’em in spades and more besides.” I passed on William’s theory about how the voodoo blood made me, Werm, William, and Eleanor special. I skipped the part about how Werm probably got shorted in the skills department because he was such a weak specimen to begin with. There’s nothing more pitiful than a vampire with low self-esteem. “So it’s just a matter of figuring out what your special talent is,” I continued. “Cool. Maybe I’ve got X-ray vision.” Werm brightened at the thought. I didn’t need X-ray vision to see the cogs of his little mind turning. He’d be at the beach bars on Tybee tomorrow night as soon as the sun went down, hoping to see through some wet T-shirts. Girl T-shirts, I hoped. At least that would keep him busy and out of my hair. “Yeah. Maybe so,” I told him. “Hey, did you think to ask William if vampires can fly, like in Anne Rice novels?” I rolled my eyes. “Don’t get hung up on those fictional vampires. Cool or not, those are just fairy tales.” “Some of what shows up in her books and other movies is true, though,” Werm countered. He had a point. Bram Stoker had picked up on the fact that a vampire had to travel with the soil of his homeland. Almost no literary vamps cast a reflection. I think some of the vampire writers through the years had some good and not-so-human sources to draw on. “So why don’t you climb up on the boathouse roof and see if you can catch an updraft, ” I suggested. Our walk had pulled us even with William’s yacht launch. “If you don’t take off, you’ll land in the water and you won’t feel a thing.” “And ruin this?” Werm ran his palms down the front of his black leather jacket. “Hey, you don’t know until you try.” “I guess you’re right,” he said, eyeing the roof.

He left his jacket with me and let me give him a boost onto the lowest edge of the roof. Then he gingerly made his way up the side as best he could in those sissified boots he wore. He crossed over to the side facing the water and teetered on the edge. “Go ahead. Jump!” I shouted. “Concentrate!” Damned if the little devil didn’t flap his arms like a chicken when he jumped. It didn’t help. He landed in the river with a surprised yelp. I crossed over to give him a hand out of the drink. “It looks like you’re earthbound, my friend,” I observed. My young protégé looked like a drowned wharf rat. “Your turn,” he sputtered. “Oh, yeah. Right.” “Hey. At least I had the guts to try.” Werm, still dripping river water, started flapping his elbows and clucking. I had to laugh. “All right. You win. I’ll try it.” I pulled off my boots and climbed onto the roof, feeling like a complete fool. As I made my way to the edge closest to the water, I hoped William wouldn’t come along and see me, ’cause I’d never live it down. But still, what if I could fly? William once got so mad at me—over a jacket of all things—that he grabbed me by the collar and levitated us both off the ground. If he could do that… I stood on the edge, looking out toward the mouth of the river, and took a deep breath. I smelled the life all around me. The river creatures, the lush vegetation in the marshes, the sea itself. I thought about my place in the world and my overlong undead existence among the living. I was an unnatural being and still somehow I belonged here in this old port city, same as everything and everyone else. I closed my eyes, stepped into space, and waited for the water to come to me. But it didn’t. I opened my eyes again. I was hovering three feet over the water. “Damn! Look at you!” Werm whooped. I looked back at him, sending my concentration all to hell, and then I landed in the river feetfirst with a splash. I swam between the moored boats and Werm gave me a hand up onto the boardwalk. He laughed and did a little dance. “What was it like?” he asked, clearly awestruck. “I don’t know. It only lasted a second.” I shook myself like a spaniel and sat down to put my boots back on. “It was weird. It was unreal.” I felt kind of stunned. I mean, how are you supposed to feel when you first realize you can defy gravity? Had I been able to do this all along? A guy just doesn’t go around jumping off things to see if he can fly. If it hadn’t been for William’s remarks about what the power of the voodoo blood might mean for us, I would never even have thought of trying it. “You’ve got to practice,” Werm said firmly. “Practice?” “You know, learn to control it. Learn to use it.” I leaned my head over to get the last of the water out of my ear. “I guess it could come in handy in a fight,” I said. “Or to get somewhere really fast, if I got good at it. But I’d have to be careful where and how I used it. I mean, I can’t very well have humans see me jetting through the air like the freakin’ Flying Nun.” “Who?” Werm said. “Never mind,” I said with a wave. “Before your time.” Werm thought about this for a second. “I guess you’re right. What else did William teach you about us and the things we can

do?” I got to my feet and started walking back to where my ’Vette was parked. It was kind of embarrassing to think that William still had kept me in the dark about everything except the bare minimum I needed to know to survive. I decided that I was going to be straight with Werm from the beginning—tell him everything that I knew. Only problem was, I still didn’t know much. I searched my mind for something I could tell Werm to help keep him out of trouble, because I had the sinking feeling that keeping Werm out of trouble was going to be a tall order. At the very least, I could tell him something interesting. I thought for a second and settled on a very important subject. And I sure could have used some guidance on the subject from William myself. “I can tell you what I discovered on my own not long ago,” I told Werm. “Something very important.” “What?” he asked eagerly. I put one arm around his scrawny shoulder as we ambled down the walkway. “My boy, let me tell you about the birds and the bees—and the vampires.”

Two

Jack By the time I got through telling Werm the ins and outs—if you’ll pardon the expression—of vampire sex, we were in the car and on the way to Werm’s house. Basically, Werm had just about decided never to have sex again. The again part was debatable, in my opinion, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt. Since I’d only met one female vamp in my hundred-and-fifty-year tour of duty as a bloodsucker, the Werminator had a pretty good chance of remaining a vamp-virgin forever. Some boys just can’t catch a break. Werm had set up housekeeping in his parents’ wine cellar after his father had boarded up the place when his mother went into rehab. The society ladies who lunch in Savannah rarely do so without half a dozen mimosas, or whatever the hell those type of women drink, and it seemed Matron Von Werm was regularly pickled by the time hubby got home of an evening. Anyway, Werm had moved a coffin in there and was safe and secure in the bowels of the family homestead. He’d told them he was rooming with a friend in a section of town so bad that he knew his folks would never be caught dead there, so he didn’t have to worry about them dropping in and discovering the lie. All the while, Werm could have been caught undead right under their very noses. Or more precisely, under their kitchen. If they ever did decide to return to the wine cellar, they’d have two unpleasant surprises: their son white as a sheet in an ebony coffin and their most priceless bottles of vino gone, since Werm was in the process of selling them on eBay for pocket money. Werm remarked that he didn’t know which his parents would find more upsetting. After dropping him off to do whatever it was that he did alone in the cellar, I headed for William ’s house to see how the vampirizing process was going with Eleanor. Not that I could help worth a damn. My one run at making a female vamp was a disaster. If William lost Eleanor, he’d be devastated. Way past needing any help from me. Winding my way through Orleans Square, I found myself in pitch-black darkness—like I’d been struck blind. That doesn’t work too well when you’re driving. I slammed on my brakes in the middle of the street. What the hell? A chill shrouded me and a prickle of fear touched my spine at the nape of my neck. Now, when a vampire feels fear, it’s a big deal. I mean, we’re the ones with the big, sharp teeth. We’re the ones who deal out the goosebumps. So whenever something spooks me, it gets my attention. I sat still, trying to think what to do, and just as suddenly as it had come, the darkness disappeared, followed by a jolt of evil I could almost taste. And for some stupid reason, I thought of Shari, my failure at making a female vamp. I put the car back in gear and sped to William’s mansion. I stepped into the kitchen and greeted Melaphia, William’s housekeeper and for all intents and purposes adoptive daughter. She’s five generations removed from the voodoo priestess Lalee. Melaphia usually doesn ’t come on duty until she’s seen her daughter, Renee, off to school, but as William had told me at Eleanor ’s, Mel had come over early today—or stayed late, depending on your point of view—in case William needed her. What was left unsaid, I knew, was that Melaphia wanted to be there for William, because if Eleanor died, he would need Melaphia ’s strong, calm, and capable shoulder to lean on. Not to mention her voodoo chants and potions to help Eleanor’s lost soul the way she’d helped Shari’s. “How are things going downstairs?” I asked apprehensively. Mel was sitting at the kitchen table, surfing the Web on a notebook

computer. “So far, so good,” she said. “All we can do is wait.” I heaved a sigh and Mel looked up from the screen. “What’s wrong with you? You look whiter than usual.” “I had a weird feeling coming over here. Are you sure everything’s all right?” She paused only an instant before closing the computer with a snap. “Let’s go downstairs and check.” The passage to William’s underground lair was lined with little recessed altars flickering with colored candles. Each color and each candle had its own meaning in Melaphia’s ancient religion, a religion that I didn’t understand but whose power I respected. A tuft of blond hair—Shari’s hair—was tucked into one of the recesses, reminding me that there were older and meaner things than me out in the wide world. And that some mistakes can last forever. That really gave me the creeps, but not as much as what I saw next. When Mel and I reached the chamber, William was lying on the floor, in front of Eleanor’s coffin, sightless eyes staring upward. Mel went to her knees on one side of William and I went to the other. She slapped his cheek sharply. “William! Come back!” she commanded. “Something has gone wrong.”

William As she finished her chant, Shari’s gaze took on a feral gleam and the light around her flickered. “Don’t look!” she said under her breath. I turned away, taking Eleanor along with me. The murmuring heightened to a dull roar of protest, as if the beasts around us knew what was about to occur. Suddenly, a crack like the breaking of glass echoed through the place and then a brilliant flash of light— brighter than my own glowing self—turned the darkness to blinding white. The light ricocheted from wall to wall to cause small landslides that rushed downward on anyone standing below. Those unfortunate enough to be standing close to Shari were bowled backward into scorched, whimpering groups on the cold hard ground. The rest, rubbing their eyes, rushed away to the safety of the returning dark. When I looked back, Shari had fallen to her knees. Whatever power she had used was depleted for the moment. “That’ll keep them away for a while,” she said in answer to my unspoken question. “But they always come back…Now—” she yawned “—I have to rest.” She sank to the ground and closed her eyes. Eleanor sat down next to her. “I remember her,” Eleanor said. “She was one of your swans. You tried to make her a vampire?” she asked. “Not me. Jack. Reedrek killed her and we thought to save her. But there was a problem…” I couldn’t go into the rest of it just then. Leave it to my brilliant Eleanor to divine my thoughts. “So this is where I’ll stay if I don’t survive the process?” It was impossible to lie. “Yes. Your body will die. Your soul will be immortal but damned.” Eleanor stared down at Shari, and a surprising look of tenderness came on her face. “Well, at least I won’t be alone.” She yawned as though watching Shari’s slumber had drugged her. She who must be obeyed stretched out next to my forever lost swan and closed her eyes. With nothing else to do but guard them, I sat down, leaning my back against the closest lump of rock. I don’t know how long I sat, watching the dark. Time was out of reckoning in this place so far removed from the sunrise and sunset in the real world. The human world. Hours could be passing, or years. I had no way to judge, no signal to know if, in the world we ’d left behind, Eleanor’s body had finished its transition or given up.

“Captain! Wake up!” Melaphia’s voice invaded my head, tugged my attention back from the dark. The world I’d left behind was suddenly calling me back. In the same instant Shari stirred, sleepily sitting up to stare at me. “Melaphia said to wake you. She says you must come back.” “I can’t go back. I promised Eleanor.” But even as I spoke, Eleanor’s essence seemed to thin. In the next blink of my eye, she disappeared—on her way back to her body. In the distance a slow rattling drumbeat sounded, like an alarm proclaiming her escape. “She’s made it,” I said, relieved. Shari simply stared at me. “Captain, come back!” Melaphia said, louder this time. I pushed to my feet. I was thinking of home and sweet Eleanor, but I could not find the words to say good-bye to Shari. A look of profound sadness crossed her features as she stood and faced me. “Thank you for letting me rest.” She searched the darkness with her uncanny amber eyes. “I hardly ever get the chance to sleep.” The light around Shari began to dim, a warning that the shells were bringing me back to them. I fought the pull. “No. I won’t leave her here to suffer for eternity,” I said to the call. “Lalee, help me.” As I began to float above Shari, the memory of my first glimpse of Lalee filled my sight. The burial ground on one of the outer islands had no name back then. It was just a marshy field on the far side of the river, far enough away from the city to calm the fear of contagion. Flickering torches lit the fifty or so bodies that had been placed near the river in three long lines. The grave diggers, backs bent and voices low, worked day and night to shovel sand, clay, and shell and get the yellow fever victims in the ground. Clouds of burning sulfur hung in the air, and Lalee stood at the center, near the finished graves, holding her lantern and a branch from a weeping willow. A low keening wail disturbed the choking silence. I remembered then that Lalee had interceded in the name of Maman Brigitte, Guardian of Graves, to sing the restless spirits from the ground and into the air, sending them on home. Although mortal, Lalee’s spirit was larger and more powerful than mine. Now I silently pleaded for her help. As she had two hundred years before, Lalee sensed my presence and raised her gaze to mine. I saw love and command in her eyes. You can save her. Call on Kalfu, the loa of the crossroads. Her chant rose in volume and suddenly she tossed the willow branch across the years to me. There was nothing to do but catch it. In my hand, in this dark place, the branch itself sparked and flared with blue static fire and instantly I knew what to do. I raised my voice and joined Lalee’s century-old chant as Shari sank to her knees before me.

Jack “Help me get him up,” Melaphia ordered. “I tell you there’s something wrong!” I picked William up and moved him to the overstuffed chair, then raised his feet to rest on the ottoman. He was deadweight in my arms. Like a real corpse. He looked even deader than he did on those few occasions when I ’d seen him in daytime sleep. There was something permanent-looking about this…deadness. I fought to control the panic rising in my chest. I had to be strong for Melaphia, who stood beside me, clasping her hands together as if in prayer. Her dark eyes were large and luminous with terror. An awareness of Shari came over me suddenly, even stronger than the feeling I’d had earlier when I’d been struck blind in my car. “Shari? Are you there?”

Melaphia looked around. She felt the presence, too. My gaze followed hers to the far corner of the room. What started out looking like no more than a wisp of smoke began to take shape as Shari materialized. I glanced at Mel. Her gaze was riveted to the spot where Shari…shimmered, for lack of a better word. So Melaphia saw her, too. Shari looked different, in a good way. Her skin wasn’t what you call rosy, but it glowed. Not with life, but with some force not of this world. What could that mean? “Where’s William?” Melaphia blurted. “Do you know where he is?” “He’s not here?” she asked. She looked around the room and when she turned her head, her hair moved in an unnatural way, like it was made of something alive. “He saved me,” she said. “He and the Lady.” Melaphia gasped. Her hand went to her throat. “He’s with Maman Lalee,” she whispered. She turned and kneeled at William’s side. He still looked more dead than I’d ever seen him. She took one of his hands in both of hers and began to chant in some ancient tongue. I returned my attention to Shari. If there was anything I could do for William, Melaphia would tell me, but I knew that there wasn’t. My throat felt like somebody had stuffed a welding torch into my mouth, but again I fought off the panic. Shari’s eyes glowed like crystal nuggets held up to the sun, and her gaze lit on me. “Jack,” she drawled, the corners of her sweet little mouth turning up in a smile that melted my heart. “It’s so good to see you.” It’s good to see the man that sent you to hell? I wanted to ask. Guilt flooded me again when I remembered how I held her in this room, naked and vulnerable, held her while her life slipped away and her soul descended into hell, or something close to it. All because I was deformed, different, poisoned. And ignorant. “It’s good to see you, too,” I said awkwardly, like a guy greeting an old, jilted girlfriend at a class reunion. “You look great.” How lame could I be? I bit my lip before I could ask her how she’d been. “I’m free,” Shari said simply. I glanced back at Melaphia. She’d squeezed her eyes shut to concentrate on her chant but opened them briefly to stare toward Shari. Her chanting did not stop. “Free? You mean you’re not just…visiting this time, like before? You don’t have to go back to that bad place?” I looked at her glowing, beaming face and she nodded. “Free,” she repeated. “I get to go to a better place now, a place where they’ll be kind to me and where I can rest.” That was it. That explained the difference in how she looked, how she glowed. She laughed and the sound was like music. “That’s right, Jack. You don’t have to worry anymore. I’m fine now. And I forgive you.” I felt my eyes go all swimmy. Had I heard her right? “You forgive me?” I asked dumbly. “Yes.” “Thank you. You don’t know what it means for me to hear you say that.” Vampires have nightmares like everybody else. Shari and what she was going through were regular features during my dreams. NOW PLAYING, the marquee of my nightmare screamed, NO ONE TO WATCH OVER ME, STARRING SHARI, THE GIRL YOU SENT TO HELL. I shook my head to clear the thought. “Where you’re going—will you be able to visit from there, too?” The question just came out, I guess. Would a being made of goodness and light ever stoop to visit a vampire? As it was, Shari was just dropping by on her way out of town, you might say. Was there more to it than that? She seemed to ponder the question seriously. “I don’t know. I’ll try, though. I promise.”

I don’t know why that should please me so, but it did. I felt myself wishing that she’d touch me. Not in a sexual way or anything. The cold, dead thing inside me was drawn to her warmth, her light, her love. That, I decided, was what she glowed with. I took a step toward her, but she began to fade. “I have to go now, Jack.” “Wait! Tell me how they saved you.” It was a stalling tactic and I expect she knew it. “It was a chant, and some kind of power from the Lady. I felt myself rise up. I felt myself fill with the spirit of goodness. And then I was here.” Lalee had found a way to save Shari. Like she’d found a way to save me and William from Reedrek. I glanced at William, still lifeless. Surely she would not let him die. He who she loved so well. I wondered at the strength of Lalee’s power, and why she loved William so much. She would cross time itself to help him in this world and the next. Could she bring a vampire back to life someday? Real life. Had William ever asked her to try? Would he admit it if he had? Could anything be done for us at the moment of our final permanent death? Could she marshal the forces of nature and the otherworldly realms she dwelt in to help a demon like me if the need arose? I was a child of her blood now, just like William. Would she pull out all the spiritual stops, so to speak, to pull me back from the brink of hell? Was that even possible? As immortals go, we vampires are obsessed with death. William once told me that the older the vampire, the more time he spent contemplating his eventual demise. It seemed ridiculous that creatures hundreds of years old should be so concerned about how and when they would return to dust. I guess a long existence must put you on edge, like an athlete on a long and unprecedented winning streak. When, where, why, and how would it all end? And then there was what might happen after that. Go to hell. Go straight to hell. Do not pass Go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. That’s what I had always been taught. We’re vampires, after all. Our soul, that all -important ticket to the afterworld, was long lost. It was lost the moment we said yes to those age-old questions posed by a sire. I remembered back to when William had asked me on the battlefield while my life’s blood flowed out of me, mixing with the red clay soil. Do you want to live? Will you serve me? “Yes,” I’d said. And the creature loomed over me, with the blood of the dying dripping from his fangs, and drained what was left of my life. I had no idea what I was letting myself in for. If I’d known, would I have said yes? Or would I have let the green-eyed stranger finish me off for good? I can’t say how many times I’ve asked myself that question. But in the end, what did it matter? Still, would the fact that I hadn’t known that I was choosing the path of the demon score me any points with the big guy in the sky when the time of reckoning came? Who knew? It’s not like there was a whole passel of people I could go and ask. Looking at Shari and thinking about Lalee and her well-spring of power—well, I began to wonder about the possibilities. Maybe being a good little vampire would score me some points with the folks who dealt out the after-death dorm assignments. I tried to do good, after all. I only killed those who really, really deserved it. I tried to help Shari —never mind that I failed miserably. In fact, I tried to help people all I could. I picked them up from deserted highways when their cars broke down and delivered them to safety. That had to count for something, didn’t it? But still, I had no soul. As I pondered these things, I noticed that Shari was getting more transparent. I reached out to touch her and my hand went right through hers. “Thank you for forgiving me,” I said again. “I needed that.” “You’re welcome. Be good, Jack.”

What was left of her moved closer to me and she reached out her arms. I couldn’t feel her body, but when she hugged me I was bathed in the warmth that I had been longing for. For just an instant I felt human again. Tears began to wet my dead-cold cheeks. And just like that, she was gone. I stood for a moment, still holding out my empty arms, and tried to memorize that warmth and light. Then I heard Melaphia’s voice, breaking with emotion. “Jack! He’s back!” William’s eyes swam into focus and he took a deep breath. “Yes,” he said. “Nothing’s wrong, my girl.” He reached up to squeeze Melaphia’s hand, completely ignoring me. Relieved, I figured I should check on Eleanor. I got to my feet, went to her coffin, and opened it. I’d seen Eleanor naked when I helped put her into the coffin; I’d had a good long chance to check out her snake tattoo. But she was different now. She was practically glowing with pale luster and wild, fierce beauty. The colors of the snake running from her breast to belly had changed. The damn thing looked almost alive. I had a strong feeling that she was going to make it. Whatever crisis I had tapped into on the square was over. The word voluptuous didn’t begin to describe her. From her lovely face to her full breasts peaked with stiff, dusky nipples, down to her sex and womanly hips and thighs, this creature clearly fulfilled any man’s fantasy. She was surely in the right business— pleasure. I couldn’t help but stare. And stare. Her dark eyes flew open and locked onto mine with an unholy gleam. Her hand reached out with preternatural swiftness and latched onto my wrist. She needed something right then, but I wasn’t the one to give it. “Oh,” I muttered. “No. Not me. It’s…” “Jack,” I heard William begin in a rumbling half-whisper. “Get away from that coffin or I’ll make you rue the day I ever plucked your sorry arse off that battlefield.”

William Blinded by ownership, I had the irrational urge to kill Jack where he stood. “Take your hands off her,” I demanded. “She’s mine.” “It’s not me, it’s her,” Jack said, doing his best to pry Eleanor’s fingers off his arm. Once he was free, Eleanor forgot all about Jack. Her gaze riveted to me and she began a slow catlike climb out of her coffin. Even her slight dessication didn’t detract from the beauty of her bone structure. She was of me now, bone to blood, and I wanted her. The invitation to take her was so strong that it felt like smoking friction beneath my clothes. Scratching, arousing. “Get out,” I managed to Jack and Melaphia. In the next second, Eleanor had leaped across the distance between us and was tearing at my clothes. I caught both her hands in one of mine and drew them upward, halting her progress of ruining my shirt. She writhed, doing her best to rub against me. This mating ritual was a delicate dance —so much more than mere fucking. Our first consummation would not only assure her immortality; it would set the tone for our entire relationship. I was her vampire sire, yes, but there would be no slavery involved, no mind control, no abuse. I would be her teacher, and it wouldn ’t do to let the pupil decide the lessons. The power she craved was mine to give, and although I was already aroused beyond stopping, I could not let her know it. I did my best to remain in control. “Let me, let me, let meeeeee,” she whined breathlessly. Her beautiful eyes, her hair, everything about her seemed to be muted except for the artful snake. The color of her skin was a cloudy, iridescent pearl. Quite suddenly, she used the leverage of her arms to swing her legs up and lock them around my waist. Twisting her hips to her own rhythm she rubbed her sex into my belly, too high to do either of us much good. Athletic but unfulfilling. “Fuck me now,” she snarled, accustomed, by her line of work, to being obeyed.

I gave up trying to stop her. I released her arms, clamped one hand on each of her hips, lifted, then tossed her away. She landed on her back on the overstuffed chair next to my coffin. “Stay!” My order was so forceful that it must have penetrated Eleanor’s frenzy. She seemed to catch on to the fact that I would be the one to orchestrate what happened next. But she would do everything in her power to hurry the process. With a look that Eve might have invented after her fall from grace, Eleanor licked her fingers, then plunged her hand down past the tail of the snake and between her legs. Sighing with pleasure, she worked the flesh there without any further assistance from me. In the time required to unfasten my shirt and toe off my shoes she ’d reached her first orgasm. Her moan of pleasure sent a thrumming demand along my skin, tightening my gut, making my cock pulse. By this time, I’m afraid, I was well past ciphering who was in charge of whom. I let my pants slide to the floor and covered her, pinning her down with the weight of my larger body and my throbbing erection. Shoving her busy hand out of the way, I entered her with a bull-like thrust. I’m sure it sounded like I was killing her, but a sweeter death has not yet been invented. I slid into her again and again, while she wailed in unison with each thrust, and I could feel her brand -new vampiric body softening beneath mine. In reaction, my body gathered for the power exchange. Eleanor climaxed two more times before her warm, tight friction sucked me over the edge into a paralyzing orgasm of my own. Locked together as her body milked mine, I didn ’t notice she was nuzzling my neck. Without warning, she sank her newly transformed fangs into my skin, wanting it all …everything. With a great deal of effort I pulled out, breaking the suction at each end. “Don’t make me hurt you,” I warned. Eleanor sighed and stretched, looking pleased, not cowed in the least. “Who knows?” she whispered demurely. “I might like being hurt by you.” The mere words made my cock twitch and harden again. As much as I would resist the admission, even as I abhorred violence among offspring, I could still be turned on by the sadistic and forbidden. “I find pleasure a worthy goal. And I’m all for variety being the spice of life.” With that I pushed to my feet, dragging her up with me and around the back of the chair. She slid her arms to encircle my neck and stepped into me, but I kept her at a distance. Turning her to face the chair I used my hands to arouse her again, sliding over her breasts, rubbing, kneading, pinching. As her breath quickened I moved lower, fondling her sex, sliding fingers into the slippery wetness there and circling her most sensitive center. When she began to whimper and squirm for more, I stopped. Shifting my arm around her waist, I lifted her from the floor so I could whisper against her ear. “This is the sum total of what you’ll get from me in the future if you ever again try to bite me without permission.” I shoved her forward until her face rested on the cushioned seat, her lovely derriere raised to the perfect level and open to my whim. I clamped a hand on the back of her neck like a stallion might use his teeth to hold a mare, then pumped into her, employing her body as nothing more than a tool to satisfy my cock. The satisfaction was of the hair-raising variety. Eleanor screamed once and the choking, fearful sound of it set off a nearly cataclysmic chain reaction in my body. I plunged into her faster and faster, coming with a newly discovered vengeance so different, and so intense, that a shimmer of unease arrived along with the greedy pleasure. I felt empty but oh so satisfied. I’d expected the sense of emptiness, as I’d just given Eleanor a sustaining dose of my power. I’d assured her immortality. But the other wicked pleasure that came along with the ride was a first for me. A crack in a door that I had never noticed before. Certainly in the past I’d been cruel—hunting, killing humans. But it had been the anger I was courting —the sweet among the meat. And yes, my prey had been afraid of me and of the certain death they found in my eyes. Eleanor was different. When she was human, she had trusted me not to go too far. She only dreamed the fantasy of what I could do if I wished. But now, she who must be obeyed was no longer human, mortal, or weak. She had no reason to fear death

anymore. Yet for this one instant she’d feared me. She knew what I was, and loved me still, but now I’d shown her that I could hurt her at my whim. It had surprised us both. “You need to feed,” I said, recovering. I retrieved my ripped shirt from the floor, drew her up, and helped her into it. She rubbed her neck where I had gripped, her eyes holding questions I wasn’t ready to answer. Settling her on a stool near the bar, I sorted through the bags of blood in the refrigerator and brought out one of the larger ones. She watched me with a baleful gaze as I bit into the bag and brought it to her mouth. “Drink: you’ll feel better.” She covered the tear in the bag with her lips and drank greedily, eyes closed in concentration. The blood oozed out, dripping down her chin, making wet red splotches on her breasts, soaking into the linen of my shirt. She downed half of the contents before coming up for air. Her eyes were regaining their sparkle, her skin plumping and smoothing—her mouth…wet with blood. Unable to resist, I leaned down and kissed her lightly, then deeper, sucking blood. She responded with lips and tongue before pulling back slightly. Holding my gaze, she tipped the IV bag up and squeezed more of the contents into her mouth. The overflow spilled down her chin like a slow-moving lava flow. At least it looked that way to me—sinuous and mesmerizing. I took the lure and set to work licking and sucking it from her skin. When my teeth grazed her neck she moaned. I heard her desire as clearly as if she’d spoken it. Bite me… Not yet, sweet, I answered silently. Not in the first seven days of your making. But soon…

Jack Turns out, fear makes me hungry. I opened the refrigerator and foraged for blood. I found a plastic package, checked the expiration date, and closed the fridge door. “I don’t even want to know what happened down there before we came in.” “Yes,” Melaphia said, seating herself before the computer once more. “And I don’t want to think about what’s going on down there now.” We both laughed and the tension was gone. I reached into the liquor cabinet for something with more of a kick and brought a bottle of mescal, the poor man’s tequila, to the table. “Where are the twins?” Deylaud and Reyha were William’s part-canine, parthuman companions. They would be in their two-footed format since it was still dark out. “Last I saw them, they were in the den watching a dog show on Animal Planet.” “I’m sure they were rooting for the sighthounds,” I chuckled. “I thought I’d hang out until I have to get home. In case anything, you know, goes wrong.” “You worry me,” Mel remarked, a crease furrowing her smooth, coffee-with-cream-colored brow. “How’s that?” “You cut it too close going home. You’re going to flame out one of these days when the sun comes up over the marshes and catches you on the road. I have nightmares that Connie will call me from the police station and tell me the police found your convertible in a ditch with nothing but ashes inside.” “Don’t get your dreads in a knot,” I said. “I’ll be more careful. I promise.” I reached over the table and patted her hand as it rested on the computer mouse. Melaphia was like a mother hen, worrying about William and me like she’d raised us instead of the other way around. I tore into the blood packet with my teeth, poured it into a highball glass, then reached for the salt and Tabasco in the middle of the table. After giving the cocktail a few shakes of each, I finished filling the glass with imported Mexican mescal. Bloody Mary, McShane style. Mel grinned. “Want a celery stick with that?”

“Nah,” I said, stirring the drink with my finger. “I’m not the veggie type, you know. I’d rather eat the worm.” Melaphia laughed while I took a long sip of my cocktail. “You know—” I paused “—speaking of Connie, I’ve been meaning to ask you about something that happened back at the costume party.” “Lawsy. What didn’t happen at the costume party?” Melaphia launched into a soliloquy about the showdown with Reedrek and other goings-on at the shindig. She wasn’t meeting my eyes. “Yeah, I was there,” I reminded her. “Are you trying to change the subject? Which was Connie, by the way.” She twirled a dreadlock around her index finger, something she did only when she was nervous, and stared at my shirt. “Why are your clothes damp?” “Because I can fly…well, sort of. I’ll explain later. What about Connie? Why don’t you want to talk about her?” Melaphia sighed and looked at me closely, lips pressed together, thinking, trying to decide what to say. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. ” I was getting worried. Melaphia and I had always been able to talk about anything and everything, ever since she was a little girl. It seemed only yesterday that she’d stopped calling me “Uncle Jack.” I drained my drink. “I seem to remember you and Renee acting kind of weird when you saw Connie at the party. It was like you were awestruck or something.” Melaphia let go of the dread and it spiraled off of her long, slender finger. “I was…It’s hard to explain.” “Listen. I know she’s different. I mean I know she’s not a hundred percent genuine human. I can feel it. And I figure you can feel it, too. Or maybe see it, who knows? But Mel, you’ve got to tell me if you recognized what she is. I need to know.” She sighed. “It’s like this, Jack. I don’t know exactly. I’m still working on it.” “What do you mean, working on it?” “I’m doing research, trying to confirm what I think Connie might be. What her role is, you know, in the wider world. Whatever kind of being Connie is, it’s something really big.” I felt a dull pain in my stomach, and it wasn’t from the mescal. “How big?” “Don’t push me, Jack.” “Listen here, young lady,” I began, falling into the same language I used when she was a girl and misbehaved. “I’m not the boy in the dark anymore, remember? Tell me what you know.” William’s silence “for my own good” had lasted more than a century, and I wasn’t about to take the same treatment from Melaphia. “Don’t try and draw me into your troubles with William. That had nothing to do with me.” “The hell it didn’t. You were his accomplice. I know for a fact that you lied to me more than once.” “What was I supposed to do, Jack? Defy William? I’m a mortal. I can’t go toe-to-toe with him like you can.” If I hadn’t been so cranky, I’d have laughed at the idea of William ever laying a fang on Melaphia. “That’s a copout and you know it.” “Look. All that is in the past. This thing with Connie is serious. You’re not dealing with some silly mortal girl here.” “I guessed that much. Now, out with it. What do you know?”

Melaphia held up a slender hand, palm out as if ready to take the Boy Scout oath. “I swear to you. I don’t yet know anything for absolutely sure. When I do you’ll be the first one I’ll tell.” “Damn it all, tell me what you think you know!” “Please, Jack—” “You’ve got to give me something here.” Mel sighed and looked at the floor. “I think Connie might be a—a—goddess.” I laughed: I couldn’t help it. But it wasn’t a funny, ha-ha laugh. It was a God-help-me kind of laugh. I slapped my hand over my mouth and spoke between my fingers. “What kind of goddess?” “A Mayan goddess. Now that’s all I can tell you.” “You’re kidding, right?” “Listen, I know you care about her, probably more than you’ve cared about a woman in a long time, in my lifetime anyway, but be careful. Now I’m going to ask you a question that you may think is none of my business, but it ’s important that you tell me the truth. Have you and Connie consummated your relationship yet?” I didn’t like the direction this was going. Not one little bit. But I knew it was serious business or Mel would never have asked me. “No. It’s hard for us to get together since she works the night shift. We go out sometimes when she gets a night off. There’s a couple of clubs that she likes, so we have some beers and some laughs, dance a little to the jukebox, that sort of stuff.” Connie worked a lot of overtime and sometimes didn’t even take a night off in the course of a week, so we seldom got to meet at her apartment. Still, I could tell that Connie was wondering why I hadn’t pressed her to “take our relationship to the next level” as they describe it nowadays. It’s not like I could tell her that just as we’d started getting really close, I’d found out the hard way I had the power to harm nonhuman women. I wasn’t sure Connie even knew she wasn’t entirely human. Crap. I had no idea what to do about the situation. I just knew that I couldn’t stand the thought of being without her now that she was on my mind and in my dreams. “Okay. Good,” Mel interrupted my thoughts. “Until I figure this out, it could be downright dangerous for you to make love to this woman.” I heard myself issue a growl of frustration. As usual, my first thought was to rebel, to tell Melaphia to mind her own business and stay out of my life. But in true wise-woman style, she’d only brought up fears that I already had. “To tell you the truth, that’s the real reason I haven’t tried to—you know—seduce Connie yet. After Shari, I’m afraid I might be poison to a woman who isn’t completely human.” Melaphia squeezed my hand over the table hard enough to get my full attention and shook her head, causing her dreadlocks to sway. “No. You don’t get it. Jack, if I’m right and Connie is descended from the kind of being I think she is, you would pose no danger to her.” I wasn’t sure I’d heard her right. “That’s good news, isn’t it?” “No, it’s not.” “What do you mean? Connie and I can—we can be together—” “You’re getting ahead of me; now settle down.” Mel came to stand beside me and took my face in her hands. “Pay very good attention, Jack, and hear me on this. Do not sleep with Connie. Because if she’s what I think she is, and if her powers are what I think they are, it’s not you who would be a danger to her. It’s a matter of her being a danger—or worse—to you.” She paused to let the words sink in. “I have never been as serious with you as I am right now. Promise me you’ll break it off with this woman—at

least until I know more. No woman likes to be strung along. Break it off for her sake and for yours as well. If I find out something to prove me wrong, you’ll be the second one to know.” “But Mel,” I protested, “I’m fairly kick-ass invincible now with my new voodoo blood. Even William says so. For cripes sake, I can almost fly. If it’s a matter of her being able to hurt me, don’t worry about it. I’m not.” Melaphia closed her eyes tightly and shook her head. “None of that matters. I’m telling you the danger is very real.” I stared at her as her warm hands cradled my face. She was serious. Oh yes, she was. “Promise, Jack.” “I promise,” I said reluctantly. Mel relaxed and patted my cheek before dropping her hands to the sides of her colorful cotton skirt. “When you go to break up with her, tell her to come and see me. Soon. I need to talk to her as well. There are many questions I must ask her. And there are things that I must tell her.” “You’re not going to tell her I’m a vampire, are you?” “Of course not.” Melaphia’s eyebrows shot upward in surprise. “That won’t be necessary.” She glanced at the kitchen clock and patted me gently on the shoulder. “You need to go now, Jack. Go home and get some rest. Tomorrow is another night.” She turned away and I felt like the bright billboard of my future with Connie had just blown over on my hard head. I was halfway to the door when Melaphia’s last words caught up with me. “Oh, and Jack, get the collier back from her.” “The what?” I asked with my hand on the door knob. “The gris-gris charm of William’s.” “Well, just crap.” Could this like get any worse? “Okay, fine. I’ll be your basic commitmentphobe Indian giver. All in a night’s work.” I tried not to slam the door too hard when I left.

William “Let’s get cleaned up,” I suggested. We’d bloodied the floor, the chairs, and each other in all the important places. Now it was time to rest. I led Eleanor upstairs for a quick shower and a change of clothes before we settled down at dawn. A single reading light shone from the den but otherwise the house was dark; Melaphia and Jack were long gone. We’d just stepped into the hall on the way to the shower when Deylaud appeared in the doorway. His surprised intake of breath stopped us. It may have been the smell of blood and sex or seeing us nearly naked—Eleanor was wearing my barely recognizable dress shirt—although he’d never been a prude. He rarely stared so intently at one of my guests unless he didn’t trust them. I slid a protective arm around Eleanor and Deylaud seemed to shake off his fascination. After all, he’d seen her several times before…when she was human. “I’m sorry,” he said, and lowered his eyes. Then, inexplicably, he sank to his knees. “Benret—my…lady.” Benret—I didn’t have to be a translater to know he’d spoken in his own native tongue. His reversion to ancient Egyptian caused me to frown. It was unnerving when my guardians, who ’d been with me longer than any others, did something out of character. Reyha appeared and rested a hand on her brother’s shoulder, her gaze fixed on Eleanor as well. “Get up,” I ordered, and without hesitation he did so. “We’ll sleep alone today.” Reyha betrayed a quick baring of teeth at that part of the announcement. She was used to sleeping with me during the day. I put up with her squirming and with dog hair on my best coats because she loved me above all others, save for Deylaud. In those few seconds, however, all of us seemed to register the change in the air, in the way things would be from now on. Eleanor was here and that made all affairs different. “Good night,” I

said and nudged Eleanor forward toward the bath, leaving my guardians to lick their respective wounds. Eleanor stretched mightily as she shrugged out of the shirt. “I feel so amazing. I wish we had time for a long bubble bath.” I drew her into my arms. “You’ll not need to wish for more time ever again. We have the rest of eternity to do as we wish.” Even as I said the words the true meaning sank in for me as well. Why had I spent all these centuries alone? Why hadn ’t I found someone like Eleanor before now? She kissed me sweetly, then bent to turn on the water. As I traced the graceful line of her spine with my fingers, I felt a rush of relief. We would do well together, both of us profiting by the relationship. I needn ’t have worried about whether I’d been wrong to take her.

Stretched out in my coffin an hour later, drowsy and, pardon the expression, drained, I waited for Eleanor to join me. She wasn’t ready for sleep, although I’d explained she’d be ready soon enough when the sun rose higher. She who must be obeyed was brimming with power—my power, which she’d gained through our mating—and she wanted to explore my underground home under home. Here she would stay until her own house was rebuilt, and maybe even after that. It was still too soon to decide. I heard the opening and closing of armoire doors, the rustle of paper, the squeak of hinges. I’d nearly drifted off when I felt her presence. When I opened my eyes she was staring down at me in what I can only describe as a puzzling way. She held something behind her back, a surprise she planned to spring on me. I was too tired for surprises. “Come, lie down,” I said. She smiled. Then raised her surprise over her head with both hands. It was a stake. In something less than a second, it was hurtling downward toward my chest. No more lovely slow-motion play as in her human days. I barely managed to fend off the blow and as I knocked the sharpened wood aside it pierced my hand. Blood welled. I had forgotten about our game, about my fascination with death. Obviously Eleanor had not. After a moment of stunned silence, I brought the wound to my mouth to stop the bleeding. But Eleanor grabbed my wrist. “Let me,” she said, and set about cleaning the area with her tongue. When she was finished she gracefully slid into the coffin next to me and snuggled close. “Just like old times,” she murmured before drifting off to sleep.

Jack At seven A.M. I stood outside the door to Connie’s place waiting for her to get off work from the eleven-to-seven shift at the police station. Connie was a patrolwoman and I was her favorite perp. She’d given me a fistful of speeding tickets in the last couple of years, so, naturally, romantic sparks flew. I just love a woman in uniform. The sun would be up in another ten minutes or so, but the hall of the apartment building was still cold. I’d discovered an entrance to Savannah’s underground tunnels through the basement of Connie’s apartment building a while back. While walking through the maze of passageways I’d come to a decision. I was going to make love to Connie. Tonight. Melaphia confirmed that whatever Connie was, she was strong enough that I couldn’t hurt her. As for her hurting me, that was nonsense. What could goddess girl do to a big, bad vampire? Besides, why would she want to do me harm? Connie was crazy about me. What the hell did being a goddess mean anyway? What were goddesses supposed to do all day? I pictured Connie sitting on a throne with a golden scepter. In my mind’s eye, she beckoned me with one gold-tipped finger. “Come here, slave, and do my bidding.” What is it with me and female authority figures? “My, now, that’s a nice smile. Is that for me?” Connie walked up and rose to her tiptoes to press a quick kiss on my lips. “Come on in, dollface.”

She unlocked the door and led me to the couch, then dumped her gear on the floor, drawing me down with her in the same motion. “This is a special treat. We almost never get to be alone together here. It’s enough to give a red-blooded, all-American girl ideas.” “What kind of ideas?” As an answer, she covered my mouth with hers as she pushed me down into the overstuffed pillows. She was warm, and she warmed my chilled body as I drew her against me and wrapped my arms around her. She twisted her head to kiss me harder and encircled my neck with her arms. Her kiss was so hot she felt as if she were made of sunshine. Her heat never failed to make me feel human again, as if there was warm blood circulating in my veins for the first time in almost a hundred and fifty years. “I’m happy to see you,” she said, removing her arms from around my neck and pulling her top off over her head. Her cleavage nearly spilled over the edge of her lacy white bra. I reached up to massage her breasts through the fabric, teasing her nipples to stiff buds under my thumbs. I’d dreamed of this moment for so long, dreamed of entering her, having her smooth, satiny heat truly surround me —warm me from my core outward. I had this silly, stupid fantasy that she could make me human again with her body, like in some fairy tale where a princess turns a frog into her perfect prince. And they lived happily ever after. I was hard as a rock just thinking about it. “You’ve been a gentleman for way too long,” she said, reaching back to unfasten her bra. In one motion, she had it off and her silky smooth breasts were naked under my hands. “You’re right about that, darlin’. When it’s time, it’s time.” She unbuttoned the top two buttons of my shirt and planted a kiss on my chest, right over my unbeating heart. I thought for a second that the touch of her lips was going to jolt it back to life, like those defibrilators you see in medical shows. I actually closed my eyes and waited for it. I didn’t feel my heart spring to life, but something a little farther south did. She tugged my shirt off and I fumbled for the button of her uniform pants. She ran her fingers over the hair on my chest and leaned forward, offering up her rosy breasts again, this time to my hungry mouth. I took one nipple between my lips greedily, and she moaned with pleasure. By that time I had her fly undone, and she reached down to stroke my hardening shaft through my jeans. She leaned in to kiss me again, raising her bottom so I could slide her pants down. I slipped my hands inside her panties and let them slide around so I could give her derriere a little squeeze. Her giggle, muffled against my mouth, turned into a whimper of pleasure as I reached farther and found the honeyed heart of her womanhood. She shoved her panties and pants down to her thighs and leaned onto me, freeing herself to kick them the rest of the way off. The sensation of Connie’s naked body full-length against mine made me feel fully alive again. Human, mortal, vulnerable, ecstatic. I held her tightly to me with one arm and in one quick motion rolled us over so that I was on top, propped on one elbow, exploring her with my other hand. I eased her legs apart with my knee and groaned as she reached down to take me in her hand. I reveled in the sight of her naked and open to me, a sight that had been in my dreams so many times. My tongue blazed a trail from the hollow of her throat across her nipple to her belly to her hip, where I noticed a red, sun -shaped mark just above her right hip bone, barely visible in the dimness. “What’s this?” I asked, drunk on the pleasure of exploring her body and the anticipation of what was to come. “It’s just a birthmark,” she murmured. “Been there as long as I can remember.” I reached out to trace the rays of the little sun with my index finger. When I touched it, a shock went through me so intense it was as if I’d grabbed on to a live electric wire. My body arced upward involuntarily and I felt like I ’d been stabbed by a hundred hot pokers fresh from the flames of hell. I propelled myself backward, hoping to escape whatever force had just burned me to my core. I hit the wall with a thud. Looking down, I saw that the hand I’d touched her with was bloodred and swollen to twice its normal size. I hid it behind my back, wincing in pain.

“Connie, are you all right?” I asked, not at all sure that I was. “What the hell just happened?” she yelled. She looked physically unhurt. “I’m—I’m not sure,” I stammered, getting to my feet. My head was splitting and not just from smacking the wall. It felt like my brain was short-circuiting. My ears rang with Melaphia’s words. She can be a danger—or worse—to you. I’ll be damned. She’d been right. “Is it me? Did I do something?” “I don’t know. I mean, no. It’s not you.” “Then what was that? What did I do to you?” “It’s not you. It’s me.” “What are you talking about?” I got to my feet and paced to the other side of the room, but I saw the crucifix she had hanging there, so I went to the window and looked out to keep from having to meet her eyes. “I’m not like other guys.” “I know that, Jack. That’s what I like about you.” “No. I mean, I’m really not like other guys.” Suddenly I wanted to tell her all of it; I wanted to make her understand that what just happened had to do with what I was. I couldn’t walk beside her in the sun. I couldn’t travel with her to meet her family. Couldn’t take her on a picnic to the beach. Couldn’t wake up in bed beside her with the morning rays streaming through the window to light her face like an angel’s. And now I knew I couldn’t make love to her. I wanted to tell her all of it, but I couldn’t take that chance. I was a killer and she was the law. And a goddess. “Are you into something illegal? Is this a side effect of some kind of drug or something?” I thought about that for a moment, long enough to make her even more suspicious. “It’s not a drug. It’s more about…what I am.” “Give it up. Whatever you’re into, give it up.” Her tone was demanding. To her, you either wore a white hat or you wore a black one. There was no gray headwear in Connie’s mind. “I can’t.” “Why not?” Out the window I could barely see the river as it ambled east toward the Atlantic. The sun was about to rise; the first of the colors that signaled its arrival gleamed just over the horizon. “It’s hard to explain, but I can’t ever change—what I am. I would if I could. I’d do anything for you. But it’s impossible.” I turned back to Connie and my throat constricted at the sight of the tears welling in her eyes. I opened my mouth to say more, to explain somehow, but no words came. None that would make sense to her anyway. Connie’s face registered alarm and confusion. Now was the chance to make my getaway, before she started asking questions, but first I had to get her to return Melaphia’s charm. I couldn’t bear to have to come back again. “What—” Connie began.

I cut her off. “I need that charm. The one I gave you to wear to the party. It belongs to Melaphia.” Dumbly, Connie opened a drawer in the lamp stand beside the sofa and handed me the ugly voodoo gris-gris, the one that had helped protect us from at least some of Reedrek’s evil. “Tell me the rest of it. What is it that you keep insisting that you are and that you can’t change? Tell me now.” I opened the door and was halfway through it when I turned and choked out, “Please. Don’t hate me. I couldn’t stand that.” “If you go out that door, we’re finished.” I left, shutting the door behind me. I paused outside Connie’s apartment and caught my breath. The fresh burn on my hand was agonizingly raw. I looked around the hallway, hoping to see a planter with water in it, or anything liquid I could put on the burn. Then I looked at the charm in my other hand. It was an ugly thing, with chickens’ beaks and claws and who knew what else strung on some kind of gut string. What the hell. I held it against my ruined hand. No sooner had it connected with my skin than I felt a soothing coolness. The fire was leaching out of the wound as surely as I was a son of Satan. I looked up to see a mist rising to the ceiling. It was dark gray at first and then lightened until it looked like clear steam. It didn’t coalesce against the ceiling but disappeared completely. Within thirty seconds, the mist was gone and the pain was easing. The relief from my healed hand soon gave way to heartache, though, as I thought about how the scene with Connie had just played out. I gazed back at her door one more time. The door’s peephole caught my eye, and I saw something that ordinary human vision probably wouldn’t have spotted through the distorted glass. A dark eye peered at me in surprise, disappearing when I met its startled gaze. Connie had seen. I was in an interior hallway, but I knew the sun was already up. I descended the steps to the tunnels ’ murky dankness and headed toward my garage. I would spend a sleepless day tossing and turning on the couch in my windowless office, thinking about the love I had just lost.

Three

William I awoke early. Sleep had been sweeter and deeper than at any time in recent memory, which for a vampire could mean decades. But I wanted to get on with the night, the first night of the rest of our lives, as the moderns would say. It ’s a corny saying, but accurate. Waking with Eleanor in my arms was almost enough to unfreeze the last glaciers of hate that weighed down on my crystalized heart. Eleanor… I whispered, mind-to-mind. With a contented hmmmmm she stretched, arching her spine, pushing her beautiful backside against me. She remained lost in her now immortal dreams. “We have lessons to learn, sweet,” I said aloud. “You need to hunt—” She sucked in a quick breath, pulled back from the dead by hunger. Yes, she would hunt. A shiver of anticipation sizzled under my skin. I pushed open the coffin lid and sat up, gently pulling Eleanor along with me. A dog ’s head appeared over the edge. Warm brown eyes gazed at Eleanor with an emotion that could only be described as idolatry. Deylaud looked as though he hadn’t slept a wink—guarding our new treasure with canine teeth. Instead of moving away, he shyly licked her hand. “Hello, sweet boy,” she said, sliding fingers over his head and between his ears. At the touch, Deylaud betrayed a low moan of ecstasy. For some reason his pleasure annoyed me. “Enough,” I snapped. “Move and let us get up.” He backed away obediently, without meeting my eyes. That’s when I noticed Reyha, perched like an Egyptian queen on her barge—or in this case, my leather ottoman—glaring in our direction. No love lost there. As I helped Eleanor from the coffin and into a silk wrapper, Reyha reluctantly came to sit next to Deylaud. I tugged on my own robe and belted it. “Good morning,” I said, resuming the same voice, the same manner, I’d always used. The echo in the quiet room sounded different today, even to me. Rather than showing the usual exuberance for another night spent together, Reyha and Deylaud stood transfixed. Just then Melaphia bustled into the chamber, looking tired and harried, her arms full of fresh clothes, with her daughter, Renee, skipping behind her. Mel stopped, surprised to see us up and about. “The sun is still shining,” she said. Turning to her daughter, she asked, “What time is it, Ren?” Without consulting a watch or clock, Renee answered, “Four thirty-eight, Maman.” “Thank you,” Melaphia said, then looked toward me with a questioning gaze.

“Everything is fine,” I answered. “We’ve got things to do, that’s all.” I slipped an arm around Eleanor’s waist. “Renee, you remember Miss Eleanor, do you not?” “Yes, Captain,” she answered, using Melaphia’s method of addressing me. (I’m not as fond of being called “Uncle” as Jack seems to be.) Renee curtsied. “Hello, Miss Eleanor.” The newly made vampire, Eleanor, paused to take in a long slow breath, as though she were smelling dinner on a stove somewhere. Then she smiled like the human she used to be, “Hello again, Renee.” Melaphia set the clothes on the nearest table but kept her gaze on Eleanor as she spoke to Renee. “Okay, honey-girl, you may as well take these two out to play since everybody is stirring.” She didn’t sound too pleased about the change in schedule. “I’ll race you to the kitchen door!” Renee called, and took off running. Reyha sprang up in pursuit, but Deylaud hung back with a whine of divided loyalty. He stared at Eleanor. Before I could respond, Eleanor said, “I’ll be here when you get back.” Without a backward glance in my direction, Deylaud sprinted after his sister and Renee. I was still puzzling over his behavior when Eleanor leaned into my arms to speak in my ear. “I could eat my weight in filet mignon—raw.” In demonstration, she politely nipped my ear with her teeth. “Soon, sweet. We’ll go hunting in a while.” Melaphia, facing Eleanor’s back, gave me a look that spoke volumes: Be careful what you wish for. I ignored it and changed the subject. “I’d like you to set up some basic lessons concerning voodoo. Since Eleanor and I, along with Jack, are of the blood, it’s time we looked further into our strengths and weaknesses. Oh, and I suppose we should include Werm as well.” Melaphia sniffed at the sound of his name. “That boy shoulda been put out of his misery,” she grumbled, hands on hips. “Not a lick of common sense. He’s almost too stupid to exist—even in the regular world.” “Yes, I know.” I sighed and Eleanor pulled me closer, as if her body could separate me from Melaphia. “How do you know you can trust him?” Melaphia persisted, but her gaze was on Eleanor now. I didn’t have to read her mind to know what she was truly worried about: my trusting Eleanor too much. It couldn’t be helped, however. I’d made my bed, so to speak, and now would gladly lie down in it. “I must trust him,” I said with more than a little urgency. “We have to be ready with all our strength in the likely event someone comes to avenge Reedrek.” I have more to protect now. I won’t be surprised again. “I’ll see to it, then. We’ll begin tonight after moonrise. Please tell Jack to be here at midnight.” Another surprise. Melaphia and Jack were usually thick as thieves. Why would she ask me to speak to him? She cut short the opportunity for me to ask by turning and leaving. I heard her mumbling to herself all the way down the passageway. Summarily dismissed, I understood a bit of how Jack must’ve felt in the past. I had the unusual urge to shout, You’re not the boss of me! after her. Instead I nuzzled Eleanor’s neck and thought about where I might find her filet mignon.

Jack After leaving Connie’s, I’d made it to the garage through the tunnels and found it locked up tight, just as it should have been. Midnight Mechanics was open from dusk to dawn, supposedly to specialize in automotive emergencies. My human partner, Rennie, had gone home to get his own beauty sleep, so I could spend the day there without being bothered.

It’s hard for a vampire to get a good day’s rest outside a coffin. When a vampire sleeps during the day, it’s like he’s well and truly deceased—croaked, snuffed, drawn down the curtain and joined the choir invisible. Don’t ask me why. That’s just the way it is. But it’s even harder to rest when your undead heart is broken. Why oh why hadn’t I listened to Mel? Now my chance to be with Connie had gone up in smoke, almost literally, and she thought I was a freak. Make that knew I was a freak. I don’t know how long I lay on the vinyl couch in the office and stared at the ceiling, my last conversation with Connie running through my head. Every time I thought I was about to drift off, the image of her face—angry, hurt, and confused—flashed onto the movie screen of my mind again, kicking my butt with guilt and sorrow. After tossing and turning for hours, I finally got to sleep.

I was standing in the mist. The corona of light surrounding the nearest street lamp cast a dim pallor on pavement that was shiny with the dampness of cold drizzle. All the lights were out in the houses along the square. It wasn’t a night fit for the warm-blooded. I saw a slender figure approach me. When he was still only a silhouette I knew I hated him. You had to hate anybody who walked like that. It was a go-to-hell kind of swagger, the cocky walk of someone who has never lost a fight, not with the mortals he liked to prey on, anyway. I knew he was a vampire. When he got to the street lamp, he stopped and took a drag on his cigarette, looking me up and down, taking my measure. He was lean and lanky, dressed in black jeans, a navy peacoat, and heavy shit-stomping boots. His light hair looked almost orange, like it had been rinsed with blood. He let out a lungful of smoke and laughed. His laughter was as arrogant as his walk. My fangs ached. “Something funny, punk?” I asked. “You, mate,” he said in a working-class English accent. A limey. It figured. Me and my Irish ancestry just loved those guys. Especially the ones who laughed at me. “Why don’t you let me in on the joke?” “You’re the joke. That’s all. Here you stand, all ready to try and protect Savannah from me and my kind. And you just a pretender to the throne.” “Throne? What throne?” “Why, the Thorne throne.” He chuckled at his own joke. His crazy talk was something right out of one of those ridiculous dreams everybody has now and then. I shook my head. But if this was a dream it was the most lifelike one I’d ever had. I could see every bloodshot line in the whites of his feline-green eyes. I could smell the human blood on his breath at ten paces. He’d just fed. “Stop talking nonsense. What do you want from me?” His smug grin disappeared, and he flicked the cigarette away. “I want your friggin’ heart on a pike, mate. And your sire’s as well. I think I’m gonna like being king of America.” My fangs extended to their full length and I could feel my eyes dilate, taking in all available light, giving me a better view of my enemy. He shed his coat, and his dirty V -neck T-shirt revealed an ugly, knotted, hand-high scar starting at the hollow of his throat—a scar in the form of a cross. Damn, that must’ve caused some serious hurt. But not as much as I was about to give him. “King this,” I said, launching myself at him, swinging with my right. He ducked and danced away, bouncing on his toes like a

boxer. The cocky grin was back. I circled him, waiting for an opening. I felt the muscles in my back and shoulders became thicker and stronger. I was turning into the soulless animal I’d hidden for so long. I hadn’t gone into full vamp-out mode in a while. It felt downright liberatin’. He flew at me then, leaving the ground as if he’d been shot out of a gun. The lean, corded muscles of his arm flexed as he balled his fist and threw a punch. I dodged and the blow caught me on the shoulder but not hard enough to spin me around. I squared up again immediately. There was shock in his eyes that he hadn’t hurt me. I hauled off and punched him in the jaw so hard that he flew six feet backward and nearly wrapped himself around the pole of the street lamp. His head connected with the cast-iron and it rang like a church bell. You’d think he’d at least be a little dazed, but he wasn’t. This was an old and powerful vamp. He came at me again, fangs first, aiming for my throat. I lowered my head and caught him in the midsection with my shoulder, flipping him up and over my head. His back slammed on the pavement, and I was on him in the beat of a human heart, pinning his shoulders to the ground, going at his neck with my fangs. I could almost taste his blood and the power that came with it, but it wasn’t thirst that made me want to kill him. I knew in my dead heart ’s core that this vampire was a threat to me. A threat to my existence and my place in this city, in this world. I don’t understand how, but I knew it as well as I knew my own name. My lips pulled back, unsheathing my awful teeth completely. But before I could sink fangs into flesh, a hand gripped my neck from behind. It was William. “Not this one,” he said. “This one is mine.”

I woke standing straight up and sweating bullets. So it had been a dream. Nice time to find out. The couch I’d been sleeping on was turned over. All the papers from the desk were on the floor and the desk chair was broken in half. I ’d tried to kill another vampire in my sleep, which was a first in the roughly century and a half of my existence as a blood drinker. In the process I ’d managed to trash the office—Rennie was gonna be pissed. Before I could get the couch right side up again, the phone rang. “Yeah?” I muttered. “Jack, it’s Olivia.” It was our vampiric English rose, who’d been with us when the struggle with my grandsire Reedrek went down. She ’d been back in Jolly Old for weeks now. What could she want? “Honey, I’d love to chat, but do you know what time it is over here? It’s full daylight–thirty. Before you called I was dead to the world,” I lied. “I’m sorry, Jack, but I’m in an awful way. There’s something I have to get off my chest.” And what a chest it was, I recalled. “Now?” “Yes. Please. I’ve got to talk to someone.” Crap. What was it with me and other dead people? Not just vampires, but ghosts, corpses, newly dead, moldy-oldy dust-todust dead. They loved to confide in good old Jack. I couldn’t walk through a cemetery without an invitation to chat. Other vamps didn’t seem to have this problem. I flexed my sore hand. On top of being burned, I’d punched out the couch with it. Olivia and I had been through a lot together in just a short time, so I guessed I owed her this much. “Okay, darlin’. Shoot.” I heard her draw a shaky breath before beginning. “Do you remember I told you once that there were consequences—dire consequences—to breaking your word or lying to a master vampire?” “Uh-huh.” Oh me. Already I didn’t like how this was starting off. Whatever hole she’d dug for herself, I knew she was about to

try and drag me in with her. I was on the edge of telling her I had a quart of O positive on the stove about to boil over, but I wasn’t fast enough. “I’ve misled William.” Damn. Here it came. “Olivia, I—” “I sort of lied to him, and I’m suffering the consequences. I can’t sleep. I can’t feed. I’m shattered, Jack. You’ve got to help me.” “You what? How can I help?” “I’m not sure it’ll do any good, but I’ve got to tell someone. You’re his offspring; maybe sharing it with you will lessen the pain.” Oh, that was just great. Want to spread around some pain? Just call Smilin’ Jack. “Olivia, I’ve got my own problems here—” “Please, Jack! It’s not as if you were the one who lied to William. Perhaps you won’t suffer any consequences at all.” “If you tell me a secret William needs to know, and I don’t tell him, it’ll be like I’m lying to him every stinkin’ day!” “I’m begging you, darling Jack,” she whimpered. “Only you can take away a measure of this pain. I’m sure of it. I’ll be forever in your debt. Think of all we’ve been through together…” What she was really saying was All you put me through. She was laying a major league guilt trip on me. And it was working. We’d done the nasty back in October and through an undead trick of fate and the effects of the voodoo blood, she wound up half dead. Well, deader. That’s not how it’s supposed to go down. She sobbed and said, “Oh, why did you have to be different? If our mating had gone as it should have, you’d be bound to help me and I wouldn’t have to beg on bended knee.” The visual of Olivia on her knees sent a gratified tingle through my johnson. I rolled my eyes. Could I help it if I was special? “So what exactly is in it for me again?” “Anything…” “That doesn’t mean much, darlin’, now that we’re a whole ocean apart.” She sniffed but remained silent. Feeling half like the con and the other half like the conee, I gave in. “How about you never mention our little encounter to anyone. Especially any of your female posse.” “Done. Thank you.” After a couple more sniffs, she continued, “Okay, it’s about Diana.” That name slammed the brakes on my goodwill. Uh-oh. Yup, this was going to be bad. “What about her?” “I found her.” “What do you mean you found her?” “I have it on good authority that she lives as a blood drinker in Eastern Europe with a powerful vampire whom Reedrek gave her to right after he made William.” I clutched my head, which had begun to pound out a snappy little tune. “But you told William the entry in your book was a mistake. You told him she’d never been made into a vampire. What happened?”

“I…lied.” I pinched myself to make sure I wasn’t having another bad dream. “Are you crazy? Why the hell would you lie to William about his mortal wife? It could be the most important thing that’s happened to him in five hundred years. What were you thinking?” “He can’t know!” “What? Why?” “The man bound to Diana is one of the most bloodthirsty vampires in Europe. If I had told William the truth, he would have moved heaven and earth to get to her as soon as he could.” Heaven and earth and anything else standing in his way. I thought back to what William had said when he told me about Deylaud seeing what he thought was Diana ’s name in Olivia’s book. If I truly believed my wife was alive, I’d already be on my way to find her. Olivia said, “When they were alive, their love was legendary, according to Alger, who was around back then as well. William was the dashing, handsome lord and Diana was his beautiful lady. Alger said William would have done anything for her, and she was as devoted as a wife could be.” “Until,” I reminded her, “Reedrek murdered them and their son. And until he made William into a blood drinker.” “That’s right. William saw her buried, thinking she would rest for eternity. That was the end of the story as far as Alger knew. The rest I have only recently learned through my network of contacts. William asked me to find the Diana in my book if I could but now I don’t dare tell him the truth.” “So what did happen next?” I asked, caught up in the story now myself. “As far as I can tell, William was unconscious when Reedrek made the blood exchange with Diana. An offspring of Reedrek’s, Hugo, was nearby, wreaking havoc on William’s vassals. Reedrek summoned him immediately and gave Diana to Hugo, who, after the mating ritual, spirited her away to the east.” The thought of any wife of mine being ravished by Reedrek and his friends turned my stomach. It would probably make William insane. “How far east?” “We’re still working on pinning them down. Our best guess at this point is Russia.” I shivered. Savannah in January was as frosty as this cold-blooded boy ever wanted to get. I couldn’t imagine vamping it up in points north, much less Siberia. “So William never knew?” “No. William was never made aware of Diana’s existence. That’s the way Reedrek wanted it. He wanted to have William’s full attention.” “Damn. If William ever gets his hands on this Hugo, he’ll rip his head off and stuff it down his neck hole.” “If those two ever met, it would be a disaster. All-out war. That’s why I lied to William.” “What do you mean? We can’t just leave her there with that creep,” I said. “William’s got some serious mojo working for him with the voodoo blood. There’s nobody whose ass he can’t whip.” I felt silly saying this, like a kid on the playground saying, My dad can beat up your dad. It didn’t make it any less true, though. Olivia sounded like she was nearing the end of her rope. “It’s more complicated than that. Besides, Diana has been with Hugo

for a very long time. Another century or so won’t hurt her. The clan that Hugo leads has affiliations with dark lords all throughout Europe. Especially parts of Europe whose blood drinkers we don’t know much about. We don’t know what their numbers are, how ancient, how powerful. We Bonaventures can’t afford to bring their wrath down on us before we ’ve gotten a chance to organize ourselves and plan our defenses. And even if it didn ’t trigger an all-out war, William would have no idea what he was walking into. I just lost my beloved Alger, and William has become like a sire to me. I can’t lose him. I won’t.” Her voice broke a little as she said this last bit. I didn’t doubt for a minute that she loved William, and I sure as hell didn’t want to see him get killed, especially when yours truly would probably be going down right along with him. “I hope you know getting this off your chest just kicked the shit out of my day.” “I’m sorry, darling. But I think I do feel better already. Now don’t forget to mask your thoughts carefully until we reach the day where we can tell William about Diana—if we ever can. Is that going to be difficult for you?” Now she asks me. “Nah. It’ll be a breeze.” I didn’t care if she heard the sarcasm in my voice. A vampire can normally read the thoughts of his offspring. It’s a psychic vampire thing. With practice you can learn to protect your thoughts, but you really have to concentrate to make it work well. It’s kind of like thinking about baseball when you’re—well, let’s say trying to delay things, if you get my meaning. “Enough about me and my problems,” she said. Which were now my problems. Lawsy. “My sweet Jackie,” she cooed. “How are you doing these days?” “I’ve been better.” “Oh my. Trouble with the lady constable?” “You could say that.” “I’ll light a candle for you.” “Thanks,” I said. I had to figure Olivia was the most powerful female vampire in our circle. I was tempted to ask her to sacrifice a two-headed chicken or something while she was at it. “I can use all the help I can get in the love department.” “Something tells me you’ll do just fine. What girl could resist that wavy black hair and those cornflower blue eyes?” “Aw, go on.” No, really, go on. “And that big set of…fangs. ” “You have a pretty impressive set yourself, ya know.” Olivia was a willowy platinum blonde with gray eyes and a brick-house figure. And when she wasn’t riding you with that can-I-get-an-amen body like some crazy cowgirl, she liked to keep it swathed in leather and lace. That’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout. Flashing back to my night of wild sex with Olivia and her bodacious bod reminded me of another pro in the game of love — Eleanor. “Oh, shit!” I yelled. “Something awful just occurred to me.” “What is it?” “Eleanor! She’s a vampire now. William just made her and is bound to her forever or something. Oh, man, Olivia. You should’ve told him about Diana when you had the chance.” The implications of William’s turning of Eleanor hit me like one of those cartoon anvils. Dooiingggg.

There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line, followed by a sigh. “It can’t be helped. That’s all the more reason not to tell him about his mortal wife.” Now my headache was ferocious. I needed time to think. “Did your spies say anything about what this Hugo looks like? Does he have a cross-shaped scar on his throat, by any chance?” “Not that I know of. Why do you ask?” “No reason. I have to go now, O.” “Very well. I suppose I’ve given you a lot to mull over. I’ll see you at the meeting. Or rather, you’ll see me—I’ll be tapping in via satellite to tell the assembly some of what we’ve learned about the hostile European clans. Now that Eleanor is part of the equation, there may never be a good time to tell William about Diana. Perhaps Eleanor will help William forget about his wife.” And ’66 Corvettes might learn to fly. This was just getting worse and worse. I remembered William’s implied bottom line about Eleanor: She wasn’t Diana. Five hundred years had passed and still he couldn’t forget her. “Until I see you at the meeting, then,” I muttered. And thanks for sharing the love. I hung up and staggered out of the office and into the kitchen area next to the shop floor. The cement was cold on my already chilled bare feet and I shivered again. I grabbed a brew and brought the bottle top down on the counter’s edge with a slap of my other hand, and the cap went flying into the corner. Just when William and I were making a new start, things were already turning sour. After all those decades of his keeping secrets, we’d made a deal and he’d agreed to share with me all things vampire. Now, ironically, I’d be forced to keep secrets from him. I knew William and his temper well enough to know that when —not if—he found out I was hiding the existence of the love of his mortal life, he would never forgive me. Hell, he might even kill me. Or at least try. One of my oldest fears—one of my worst recurring nightmares—was someday having to fight to the death with my sire. That fear had started to disappear lately. Now it was back with a vengeance. I guzzled about half the beer and flopped onto the couch. One stupid mistake on my part and I was toast. I had to use the strength of the voodoo blood to block my thoughts from William—the only thing in my favor was that he didn’t suspect anything, so he didn’t have any cause to use his best mind-intruding tricks on me. So in a very real way, I was already in that dreaded struggle with my sire, only it would be a mental one and might have to last the rest of our unnatural lives. My only hope now was that the battle stayed in our minds and never got to be the knock -down, drag-out vampire battle of the century. If I’d had a soul, I would’ve been begging God to have mercy on it. As it was, I could only drain the rest of the beer, stare at the ceiling, and wonder why I didn’t just hang up on Olivia when she’d started wheedling. Olivia was pigheaded and impulsive and William, knowing what a loose cannon she could be, had sent her off to be head of the European Bonaventures. Now she was poised to ruin my life. In order to save her own skin, she’d put me and my relationship with my sire on life support because she broke her word to a master vampire. To hell with that. I sat up and threw the beer bottle against the wall. It shattered into a million pieces, the force of it showering me with shards of brown glass from across the room. Olivia could twist in the wind for all I cared. I made up my mind in that instant. I was going to tell William. I was going to tell him everything. I’d save myself. And when he decided to charge over to Europe to confront this Hugo guy, I’d go with him. I’d rather die in a good, clean fight

with the bad guys. I’d rather die at William’s right hand than be done in by my best friend over a bunch of female stupidity. Besides, hell, we might just kick their skinny Russian asses. William could deal with Eleanor however he saw fit. It would be hard, especially for a person like her. As the old cliché goes, El was the hooker with a heart of gold, at least when she was human. As an immortal, who knew how she’d be? But that was none of my business. She and Diana could duke it out over William if that’s what it came down to. In fact, that might be fun. I hadn’t seen a good old-fashioned hair-pulling, eye-gouging catfight since two camp followers went at it over me back in the War of Northern Aggression. And William could deal with Olivia as he liked, too. That did make me feel a little guilty, especially since I ’d just promised her I’d keep her secret. But too bad—I was going to look out for number one for once in my long, long life. They say it’s a woman’s option to change her mind. Well, what’s good for the goose is good for the gander. As soon as the sun went down, I’d head back to William’s place and come clean. Satisfied that my decision was the right one, I was finally able to relax, free my mind, and drift back off to sleep. The sleep of the dead.

William The rumble of the cabin cruiser vibrated below us as it cut through the waters at the mouth of the Savannah River, past Fort Pulaski and the Tybee Island Lighthouse and into the ocean. “Oh, William, this is so beautiful,” Eleanor said, leaning back against me. The breeze off the ocean lifted her long, loose hair and it wrapped around my neck and face like tendrils of silk. She smelled of sunset, saltwater, and magnolia, and I felt nearly drunk in her presence. I had not foreseen how our connection would be magnified by her making. Anywhere our bodies touched sizzled with awareness, a doubling of the power I’d felt when she was mortal. “It’s your turn to find me a swan,” she said, a smile in her voice. “No swans tonight, sweet.” We’d both fed on stored blood before leaving the house, but I knew the hunger of a fledgling. Only warm, living, beating blood would do. I lowered my mouth near her ear. “Tonight you must kill, take it all, drink the last drops of a life.” I had not hunted humans since my efforts to distract Reedrek, but tonight had to be special, something more than the poorer parts of the city could offer. Filet mignon rather than fast food. Eleanor was silent for a moment and I wondered if she was upset by the prospect of ending a life. But after a contented sigh, she relaxed against me, bowing to my will. We were headed north, away from the city, and away from the state for that matter, since the Savannah River marked the boundary of South Carolina. We cruised out beyond the fringes of land toward several islands that separated the rivers and the sea. Hilton Head is the most famous of them, followed by others with names like Daufuskie and Fripp. We were headed for a place called Hunting Island. Never let it be said that the undead don’t have a sense of humor. The night air was cool—too cool for an abundance of human activity. Winter had settled over the south, and though the cold was mild to my immortal constitution, most mortals would be huddled close to home rather than venturing outdoors near the ocean. Unless they, like us, had dark business to do. Scarcity made the hunt all the sweeter. We had darkness and a fast boat—we could hunt to our hunger’s content. “Are you happy?” Eleanor asked suddenly. Since the question didn’t sound like an inquisition, I told her the surprising, unaltered truth. “Yes, sweet. I am.” Eleanor turned in my arms, and her delighted smile lit something warm inside of my cold chest. “You’ll never be sorry. I swear it.” As pleasant anticipation spread through me, Melaphia’s unfortunate sentiment settled in my thoughts like a shock of cold water. Be careful what you wish for…

In the human world, some spoke of bad luck or fate being their adversary. In actuality, it was usually their choices that put them in luck’s sights…and in ours. As we slowly circled Hunter’s Island, we spotted a small knot of men huddled near a broken-down dock. They had built a fire in an old fuel drum—not a good choice on this night. Especially when someone was about, like myself, who could smell their evil intent. I allowed the boat to coast in until the bow scraped sand, then I leaped into the knee-deep water to help Eleanor down. Three of the men seemed frozen in place, probably wondering whether they should trust their eyes. The last one reacted, reaching for a sturdy limb from the firewood pile, but did so in slow motion. “Good evening,” I said in my most hospitable manner. Just because we were there to kill them didn ’t mean we couldn’t be cordial. I took Eleanor’s hand and led her forward into the light. “We have a slight problem, and I wonder if you might help us?” On closer inspection, the men were dressed better than I’d expected, and there were three ATVs parked behind them near the trees. These men were not homeless; they had other reasons to be out on the edge of nowhere on a cold January night. They were up to somethin’, as Jack would say. And so were we. For a moment the sight of Eleanor lit by the firelight took the words out of them. She who must be obeyed smiled, then turned her Gypsy eyes in my direction. Sizzling hunger and a willingness to play showed in her expression, sending a delectable wave of longing through me. She was waiting for something as well—my permission. Finally the large one with the wooden weapon spoke. “Why didn’t you just call the Coast Guard? You must have a radio on that fancy rig.” “Ah yes, a radio…” I was beginning to enjoy myself. It wasn’t often I allowed myself to dawdle over meals. “Unfortunately, we’re not interested in the Coast Guard.” Take this one, I whispered to Eleanor’s mind. He wants you more than the others. “My lady here—” I brushed back Eleanor’s mane of hair. “—likes you.” I nearly lost my concentration at the sight of her graceful, bare neck. His gaze left me for Eleanor. I could not see her expression, but I imagine it was enough to bring a mortal man to his knees, because he began to sink downward. She stepped forward in time to remove the tree limb from his hand, tossing it into the water with a splash. I turned to concentrate on the other three. Leave this place. Run away. Run away now. “Donny—” one managed to grit out. “Leave him to us,” I said aloud. “But what about the shipment—” “Go. Now,” I ordered, setting their minds on fire with fear. “And don’t come back here, ever.” They scrambled toward their transportation. One briefly considered digging out a weapon but I chased that notion out of his head with a grisly vision of spurting blood…from his own neck. The sudden roar of the engines was annoying on such a peaceful evening, but necessary. In a short time they had faded into the distance. I returned to Eleanor. She was standing behind the man who was to be her first victim. Her hand pushed possessively through his hair as one might pet a large dog. “He’s all yours,” I said.

She didn’t move right away. “I remember watching Olivia…in my dungeon,” she said, then licked her lips. Seeing her warming to the kill made me understand why a mortal could not deny her anything. “She tied hers up and fucked him.” I experienced a tiny shiver of jealousy, but it passed. As far as fucking went, she knew what she was about. It was her former business, after all. On this first kill, I would not deny her any business, or any pleasure. “Do you wish to tie him?” Lids half closed, she stared down at her prize. “No.” She brought her gaze to mine. “I want you to hold him.” Instead of angering me, the pure sexual tug of the image she ’d placed in my mind caused my cock to twitch. “Whatever you wish.” I took the unfortunate’s arm and raised him to his feet. “Take this off,” she ordered, pushing at the jacket he wore. He made one feeble effort to pull away; but then Eleanor began charming him, whispering how much she wanted him. She flung the jacket away. He followed in a daze as I brought him to the nearest tree. With his back to the bark, I drew his arms around the trunk so that I could hold his wrists with one hand. Eleanor’s smile was aimed at me rather than the man between us. She pulled his shirt free, baring his chest. A low moan rose from him and he began to tremble as Eleanor paused to delicately sniff his neck. “I smell a woman on you,” she said. “You’ve already had some fun tonight.” She closed her eyes as though meditating or, heaven forbid, saying grace before a meal. Then she tsked. Just when I thought she’d chosen a new kind of exquisite torture for us both, she surprised me. “And you hurt her, didn’t you? Like you always do.” She opened her eyes, a hardness in her gaze. Her newly minted fangs were extending as she added, “So sad. But I don’t believe she’ll miss your…attentions.” Then she bit him. The smell of hot blood and the strangled sounds of struggle tightened my jaw, teasing my own fangs into extending. I could hear the man’s panicked heartbeat, feel his muscles straining. Hear the sucking… After a good long drink, Eleanor drew back, her beautiful face and chest spattered with blood, strands of her hair stuck to her skin. Then, pressing herself forward, she pulled my face down into a sloppy, blood-filled kiss. I sucked at her mouth, catching the fervor of her bloodlust. She brought us both back to his neck and I bit down for a deeper taste. We both sucked until the frantically beating heart under his skin began to slow. I drew back. “I thought you wanted to fuck him?” I asked, breathing hard, taking the moment to regain my composure. She ran a hand down my belly to massage the hardness I made no attempt to hide. With a bloody smile she said, “I’d rather fuck you.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Since the first night we met there’s only been you.” Although I’d never admit it, her words produced a gratifying flush of possession in my bloodlust. “Finish it then.” Eleanor shrugged out of her gossamer blouse and unfastened the soft skirt she was wearing, not stopping until she was naked in the firelight. The victim was too far gone to care. This show was purely for me. Humming with pleasure, she leaned into her meal again and I took the opportunity to use my free hand to arouse her further. So the running blood wouldn’t go to waste, I rubbed the wetness on her nipples and between her legs. I would have sucked it off her skin if I hadn’t been assigned to hold the body upright. She didn’t need sucking just then, only my hands and my will. Her first orgasm of the evening coincided with the final few heartbeats of her kill.

Letter from Eleanor, a Vampire Life is a bitch, and then you die—especially if you’re unlucky enough to be born female. I’d learned that lesson early on from the men in my life—from my father, who thought his sons were masters of the universe and that daughters were useful around the house as long as they were quiet and pretty, from my first boyfriend, whom I stupidly married to get away from my father. The two of them had done their damnedest to convince me that women were second-rate and not worth the bother. So I’d worked to help put my husband through college, not even taking the time to dream of earning my own degree. One night my prince charming came home and demanded sex. When I said no, that I wasn’t interested in going to bed with a sloppy drunk, he locked me in the bedroom and proceeded to show me the difference between a sloppy drunk and a mean drunk. Screw that. While I was packing to leave the next day, I received a dozen roses and a note that said Sorry. I shoved the roses one by one down the garbage disposal, picked up my bags, and left. My ex and my father predicted I’d come running back in a few weeks. I ran, all right, but in the opposite direction. Screw that became my motto. I already knew how to finance an education, so I chose a university and put myself through school working as a bartender with occasional extracurricular activities. I determined early on that I could trade sexual tutoring with selected professors for a more “in-depth” education. One of those professors jokingly suggested I should use my MBA to run my own “tutoring” business, and so a madam was born. To be precise, a mistress. Most people who consider themselves normal would be amazed at how many of their friends and family are willing to pay good money for a little pain. Or a lot of pain. Most life coaches tell people to choose what they love and make it their business, and I have to agree. I found that I love serving up pain to men who go home and pretend they are the masters of their universe. And now I’m mistress of my own universe.

Four

Jack I was in the garage kitchen, pouring myself a second cup of coffee, when my cell phone rang. I knew it was William before I unholstered it. Damn. If we talked he’d hear in my voice that I was hiding something, and then he’d use his mental mojo before I had a chance to tell him in my own way. I let it ring and waited a few minutes to see if he left a message. “Pick up Werm and come to the house at midnight,” his voice message demanded, and with that, he hung up. I swore and snapped the lid closed on the flip phone. Had he read my mind remotely? Nah. I hollered over to Rennie that I had to go out and might not be back before closing. He waved from under the hood of a Buick, and I hopped in my Corvette. Whatever William wanted, I hoped I could get it out of the way and get on with the nasty business of telling him how his life was about to get a whole lot more complicated. I couldn’t stand the burden of the awful truth much longer. I just hoped he wouldn’t decide to bite the messenger.

“I’m here for what, now?” Werm took a seat on the leather couch in William’s den. I handed him a blood cocktail in a highball glass. “Voodoo lessons,” I said. “Just watch and listen. Remember what I was telling you the other day? ” I sat beside him and stretched my legs. “We’ve got these special powers because of the mambo blood. Powers other vampires don’t have. Even William doesn’t know everything we can do, and it’s about time we all found out.” “In case the big, bad European vampires come for Reedrek,” Werm clarified. “Yeah. We’re going to need every tool in the shed.” “What about all those other vamps coming for the big meeting? Do they have special powers, too?” “William gave them only a little voodoo blood when they came over, and it was diluted. They ’re some stronger than your average Eurovamp, but not a lot. Not like us.” I could tell Werm was getting all excited about the big vampire powwow. Making the arrangements was such a big to-do that we had to round up all the help we could get. Every last one of William’s employees, from the boys at the warehouse to the staff at the plantation, were helping with travel and accommodations. Melaphia had put Werm in charge of just enough to make him feel important, and he was chomping at the bit to meet more of “his own kind,” as he put it. I hated to burst his bubble, but if those high-falutin’ yankee vamps looked down on Werm as much as they did me, he was going to be made to feel like a third-class denizen of the dark—kinda like the folks in steerage on the Titanic. And with that weird getup of his, it was a lead-pipe cinch they would do just that. Eleanor sat opposite us on a love seat. Deylaud lounged in his oh-so-lean-and-elegant human skin at her side. She sipped at a

drink, her other arm draped lightly across Deylaud’s back. Her long, slender fingers stroked his shoulder absently. Deylaud looked as if he was in heaven itself and didn’t take his eyes off her face. He had scooted so close to her, you could barely pass a penny between them. I half wondered if he would jump onto her lap, as he sometimes did with his favorite humans, when he was in a playful, doggy mood. That would be quite a sight. Werm propped his black leather boots on the coffee table and I gave his legs a backhanded swat. He put his feet back down on the floor. “Were you born in a barn? I can’t believe your society mama didn’t teach you any manners.” “That’s all she ever taught me,” Werm complained. “We’re vampires, for cripes sake,” he said, pouting. “We’re tough guys, badasses. Who needs manners?” “We’re gentlemen,” William said suddenly. He swept into the room with Melaphia following close behind. William scowled when he saw Deylaud hip-to-thigh with Eleanor. “Out,” he said, inclining his head toward the door. Deylaud stood up and slowly walked out of the den. If he’d had a tail in human form, it would have been between his legs. He gave a final, mournful look in Eleanor’s direction before disappearing around the corner. Turning his attention back to Werm, William said, “Just because we’re blood drinkers doesn’t mean we’re animals. We’re an ancient, noble race. There are those of us who choose to live no better than four-footed carnivores, but that doesn’t mean that we must.” “You mean like Reedrek?” Werm asked. “Him and his ilk, yes.” William crossed to the bar and poured himself a glass of blood out of the decanter. In his black turtleneck and sport coat, if the man had had a martini in his hand he could’ve stepped right out of a damned James Bond movie. “We will behave like well-bred southern gentlemen.” I thought about the dream I’d had the other night. The guy I fought was no well-bred gentleman blood drinker. I thought about telling the others about the guy, but why bother? It was only a dream, and my dreams never came true. “Gentleman vampires?” Werm said. He drained his drink and sprang to his feet. He wore his favorite goth getup—black leather everything, rows of silver earrings in both ears, severe-tire-damage hairdo. “This is just the kind of bourgeois bullshit I wanted to get away from when I begged you guys to make me a vampire! I want to kick some ass!” Eleanor arched a black brow. “You need someone to keep you in line.” Werm looked like he didn’t know whether to get a hard-on or run for his life. “And she’s just the one who can do it, son,” I said. William took a drink and pinched the bridge of his nose. If he’d had any notions of building a refined southern “family,” his efforts weren’t getting off to a good start. “Don’t forget your place,” I said to Werm. “Now pay attention. You might learn something that could save your hide.” “I should go hang out with my real friends,” he muttered. “There’s a new guy who hangs out at the club and he’s way cooler than you, Jack.” “Does he have a set of these?” I said, and thrust out my fangs. Werm’s own fangs hadn’t finished growing in yet. They were what we call baby fangs. “Well, no,” he admitted. “Then he’s not cooler than me.”

Werm was cowed and looked ready to do whatever I said. When we’d all settled back down, William said, “Werm—” he paused. “Lamar. You’re in a unique position. As a fledgling vampire you have a chance to learn from a master vampire and a mambo priestess. If you only knew how rare an opportunity that is, perhaps you would appreciate it more. Now, if you want to be civilized, you may stay and learn. If you want to be feral, then go out on the streets and do the best you can. Until I come for you.” “I—I want to stay,” Werm said, and meekly added, “Sir.” William smiled benevolently and turned to confer with Melaphia—I suppose about what they were going to teach us. I couldn’t believe how patient William was being. On the rare instances when I sassed him as a fledgling, he opened a can of whup-ass on me until I learned my place. I knew what had caused his leniency. He ’d gone all “love is in the air” because of Eleanor. William finally had a mate, a companion, a true intimate, and his attitude had changed for the better, even though he was still under stress because of his new political responsibilities. Ordinarily, I’d be as pleased as a dead pig in the sunshine for the guy. But William’s newfound happiness only made what I had to do that much harder. I squirmed in my seat, thinking about his potential reaction when I told him that Olivia had informed me that Diana was still alive. Talk about opening a can—what a can of worms this would be. He had just what he needed in Eleanor—a woman vampire who fascinated him, challenged him…and loved him. At last he had someone to share eternity with, someone who made him want to continue to exist when just a few months ago he was ready to pack it in for good and all. I agreed with Olivia on one thing. I didn’t have any doubt that William would drop everything he was trying to build, both with Eleanor and with the Bonaventure organization, and go to find Diana, even if he had to run off to the ends of the earth to do it. Poor Eleanor. She’d given up her very life for him. I thought about that old saying: Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Along with that heapin’ helpin’ of scorn, toss a fledgling vampire who didn ’t know her own strength or how to wield her considerable unholy power into the Mixmaster. Lord have mercy on us all. I had to get William aside as soon as possible, as far from Eleanor as I could get him. They ’d been joined at the hip since he’d made her, and I briefly thought about asking Melaphia to help me tell him. But she and I were already butting heads over Connie. Better to poke my own head into the fire. “As you know—” William began. “Jack can fly,” Werm blurted. William froze in midsentence. He, Melaphia, and Eleanor looked at me as if I’d grown a second head. “What?” William said finally. “Only a little,” I said. “I saw him!” Werm was on the edge of his seat. “He hovered over the river and fell in.” “What?” William asked again. “I thought about what you said that night you were making Eleanor,” I said. “Werm and me were talking about how some movie vampires can fly.” “Like Anne Rice’s vampires,” Eleanor pointed out. She seemed to be getting kind of excited about the idea, too. Werm got a mushy look on his face. “I just looove Anne Rice.” “Me too,” Eleanor gushed. “And many of my clients really love her work. I mean, a lot. And not just the vampire stuff, but, you know, her other work.”

I leaned forward. “Tell me more.” “Focus, people!” William closed his eyes and sighed. “What happened. Exactly.” “Like I said, I told Werm about you saying we need to explore our abilities. And then we were talking about what vampires in the books and movies can do, like fly, for example. So I figured I would try it. I mean, you don’t know if you don’t try, right?” “Right,” William agreed, watching me now. “So I climbed onto the roof of the boathouse and jumped off. And, you know, concentrated, sort of. And I hovered for a few seconds. And then Werm yelled or something and it broke my concentration.” William rubbed his chin. “Continue.” “And then I fell into the river.” “You are the man, Jack,” Eleanor remarked. “I told him he should practice,” Werm put in. “Who knows how good he could get if he worked at it?” William thought for a moment. “Werm’s right. You should try to develop that skill. You two are on the right track. We need to discover our strengths. And weaknesses.” When William said the word weaknesses, all eyes turned to Werm. “Why’s everybody looking at me?” he asked defensively. Melaphia’s nose twitched. “What about you, Lamar? Have you discovered any special talents of your own?” she asked. “Yeah, how’s that X-ray vision?” I chuckled. “Were you able to see through any T-shirts on Tybee, lover boy?” If Werm had still been human, I think he would have blushed, but it’s hard for vampires to blush. Blushing is just not an undead thing. Werm did something a lot more interesting than that. He turned transparent. It was a lot like how Shari had looked when she’d appeared in the vault after Eleanor was made. Kind of smoky and filmy. Insubstantial, you might say. “That’s a pretty good trick right there,” I said. “What?” Werm asked. Melaphia narrowed her eyes. “We can see through you.” “Yeah?” Werm looked down at himself. “Cool.” The instant he decided he was cool, he firmed up. Solidified, that is. “You haven’t noticed this before tonight?” I asked. Werm shook his head. “This could be useful,” William observed. “I wonder…” I knew what he was thinking. “If you practiced, maybe you could be completely invisible.” “Gee, I don’t know. I don’t know what I did to go transparent just now.” “I do,” Eleanor purred. Catlike, she rose from the love seat and walked toward the sofa where Werm and I sat. She slid onto the sofa, her knees straddling Werm, whose eyes grew to the size of golf balls. Without actually touching him, Eleanor leaned

forward, bringing her lovely—and generous—breasts to within millimeters of Werm’s face. Then she whispered something close to his ear. He looked so pale I expected him to swoon like a virgin, facefirst into her cleavage. The boy had no clue what to do with a woman like Eleanor. But instead, quite suddenly Eleanor looked to be straddling thin air. “Oh, I get it,” Melaphia said. “He goes invisible when he’s embarrassed.” “It would seem so,” William observed as he took Eleanor’s hand to help her up and away from the invisible Werm. “How many times did we, as adolescents, wish we could disappear when forced to endure an awkward moment?” “The voodoo blood must help him actually do it,” I said. “Well, I’ll be damned.” I couldn’t see Werm’s silly grin, but William’s expression of disgust proved that Werm was also going to have to learn to hide his thoughts the best he could. Right now even I could pick them up, and I wasn’t his sire. He was thinking about women’s locker rooms.

William “You’re going to have to learn to control this, Lamar. We don’t want you causing a stir by disappearing in public. This is an even better reason to explore our strengths. Not only to find them but to learn how to use them effectively.” “Yeah,” Jack added. “Maybe this whole flying thing could come in handy over at the Oglethorpe Speedway. Even if I couldn’t make the car fly, I could cut down on the—” He glanced toward Eleanor. “—pardon the expression, deadweight, by floating above the seat—” “Jack!” Melaphia interrupted. “The blood of the Vodoun is not meant to be used to win bets at a racetrack. Now hush and let’s get started.” Jack sat back, but I could see that his mind was still working. I moved over to sit by Eleanor and discovered Deylaud had returned and settled cross-legged at her feet. In human form, he wasn’t much better at hiding his fascination with her than as a canine. Unwilling to set the group off on another tangent, I didn’t comment. I simply gave him a warning look before pulling Eleanor closer to me. Melaphia shut her eyes and drew in a breath deep enough to straighten her spine. Then, eyes open, she moved to face the group. “Most people think Vodoun is a means to do evil, when in fact men have no trouble finding ways to do evil on their own.” “Ain’t that the truth,” Jack added. Melaphia went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “Deylaud can show you books to read on the history, but I’ll recap since we know Jack hasn’t read a book since the Kama Sutra was published.” “Not true. I read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.” Apparently we didn’t look convinced because Jack defensively added, “Well, I did.” Mel quelled his outburst with a look and continued. “For now, just know that the practice is old, even ancient. It came from Africa and has followers in most parts of the world. Those of you sitting here are not simply followers: You carry the uninterrupted bloodline of Vodoun royalty.” She paused a moment to let that information sink in. “Our first lesson has to be humility—for humility is the way of the Vodoun. There are older, wilder forces in the world, enemies and angels. We can only ask for their help—” She lowered her chin and gazed at Jack. “—not demand it.” Humility and Jack seldom met. As a matter of fact, both Jack and I had long ago misplaced our humility along with our humanity. When one is immortal and virtually indestructible, it’s hard to be humble. But I had felt humble in Lalee’s presence. I’d recognized her as one of those older, wilder forces on earth. And now she’d been set free into spirit. As though Melaphia could read my thoughts she said, “The actual word, ‘Vodoun,’ means ‘spirit.’ It has to do with focus, intent, and—as much as you may not like it—faith. We need to find out what happens when spirit meets immortality.”

“Wow, voodoo vampires,” Werm whispered. “Cool.” Jack appeared as if he might give Werm a thump on the back of his head. But the boy wore a look of complete awe. Melaphia clasped her hands in front of her. “So, tonight we will begin the first task. We must honor the ancestors who came before us. We must honor Maman Lalee. We are all family now. We must trust and depend on one another.” She took a moment to gaze at each of us. “Maman Lalee will choose your personal orisha—the force closest to your strengths. When we have done that, I’ll teach you to build an altar.” “You mean we have to pray or something? Isn’t that kind of sacrilegious for us vamps?” Jack said. “The Vodoun is a religion like many others. And yes, you especially, Jack, will be spending a good bit of time on your knees. Otherwise, you might never learn to truly fly.” “Oh,” Jack said, sounding a little disappointed. “Did you think it would be so easy? Say a chant and take wing?” “Well…look at old Werm here. He hasn’t hit the floor with those sissy leather pants, and he can go all invisible and stuff.” “True, that shows a bit of natural talent—but no control. In this case his emotions override his power. It is not a good thing to be out of control. Remember that.” I’d spent several centuries learning control. Mostly to stave off the inevitable explosion of anger inside of me, and the loneliness. The soul-battering grief of survival without connection. Without love. I felt Eleanor’s hand come to rest on my thigh, interrupting my dark thoughts before I could reach Diana. I turned my gaze in Eleanor’s direction and she smiled. Yes, that is what you offer me: solace, distraction, love. I raised her hand to my mouth and kissed her palm. Nearly lost in her eyes, I was pulled back by Jack’s low expletive. Before I could divine the cause, Melaphia reclaimed our attention. “Jack, move this rock over to the fireplace,” she ordered. “Lamar, fetch the water. Captain? Will you bring Renee, please?” I did as she’d asked and fetched Renee from the bedroom. I held her, sound asleep in my arms, as her mother bustled around the room. The distant memory of holding my own sleeping son called to me. The trusting sleep of the innocent, what some jokingly refer to as “sleeping like the dead.” My son was truly dead, five hundred years dead. I set my thoughts in other directions. Better to let the past flicker and go out. Soon, Melaphia had composed a makeshift altar, set out with white roses, a bowl of spicy gumbo —Lalee’s favorite food— water from the oldest well in the city, and the vial that had held Lalee ’s blood before we’d used it up to bring about Reedrek’s downfall. Next to the empty vial, Melaphia placed a full glass of her own blood and an old miniature portrait of Lalee herself. She indicated for me to settle Renee on a feather pillow at her feet. Then she lit several white candles. “Gather ’round,” she said, opening her arms. As she drew a symbol on the stone, using what looked like cornmeal, the chant she sang sent a thrill of recognition through me. Earthly memories of Lalee flowing across time, across death: her beautiful face lit by candlelight as she cradled her firstborn daughter and pledged her to me. The terrible specter she’d become if anyone meant to do harm in her neighborhood. The grieving mother in the torchlight, helping the dying and sending their souls on to the next part of their journey. I missed her. The love and pain in Melaphia’s chant reminded me how much. Suddenly the chant stopped, leaving complete silence in the room. A puff of wind surged through the damper, filling the air with the telltale smell of ash. Then Renee sat up and rubbed her eyes. Melaphia sank to her knees. “Maman?” Renee’s small hands cradled Melaphia’s face. “Oui, sweet one. I am here.”

Melaphia blinked and tears rose in her eyes. My own throat tightened and I too sank down. “Maman, we need your help. We must call on your blood in all of us. We need you to teach us how.” With that, she turned to me. I could see now that while the body might be her great-great-great-granddaughter’s, the living eyes were Lalee’s looking out at me after nearly three hundred years. “I have sworn so, have I not?” “Aye, you have,” I said. “But I would have your love, not just your allegiance.” I swallowed. “As I have loved you.” She floated toward me, her feet a few inches off the floor. When she was close enough to touch she said, “Both are yours, Captain. As you have cared for me and mine, I shall care for your new family. ” She shifted her gaze to Jack, then Eleanor, then finally to Werm. “Each in his or her own fashion.” She placed her small hand on my head and closed her eyes. “In the dark you called on Maman Brigitte and Kalfu. We three helped you in your need, but now I would have you pray to Brigitte’s husband, Baron Samedi. “Ghede.” I heard Melaphia gasp in the silence that followed. Lalee turned slightly in her direction. “Yes, that’s right, girl. Ghede is death, the master of the abyss. The trickster.” She chuckled and patted my head. “Did you not meet him in the dark? You would have if you’d stayed longer.” She grew serious again. “Call him into you, but only in necessity. He will come. Do not encourage his tricks, or his appetite for death. He is the final judge of a man’s worth. A vampire’s worth as well.” I nodded. She moved on to Jack. “Hello, my son. You are the heartbreaker, are you not?” Jack stared at her for several long seconds. “I didn’t mean to,” he said, looking miserable. “No, you did not.” Jack looked away from her gaze but with one hand on his jaw she brought him back. “The dead ones call your name. They say you are to pray to Legba. He is one of the loa of the crossroads and the door to the spirit world. Will you do that?” Jack nodded. “He won’t make me ten feet tall again like you did? Will he? I mean, I don’t want to be banging my head on the lid of my coffin—” Lalee’s burst of laughter was a combination of a woman’s mirth and a child’s giggle. “When you call, you’ll find out.” She leaned close to his ear. “Perhaps you might build your altar outside with only the stars above you.” “Yes ma’am. I will.” He glanced at me. “Just to be safe.” Eleanor was next. Lalee took a longer time studying her. She swung her head from side to side. “Your immortality is so new the energy still beats like a heart around you,” she said finally. “You were brave in the dark. You I give to Erzulie, the tragic mistress. She is the goddess of love but of sorrow as well. You have given your very soul for love, have you not?” I could feel Eleanor’s gaze on me but I didn’t meet it. Of a sudden I had the sinking feeling that making Eleanor had been a greedy mistake. “You belong to Erzulie now, above all others…even above him.” A slight nod in my direction made it obvious she was speaking about me. “Yes, madam.” Eleanor’s voice sounded unsure but resolute. I could feel Werm’s utter fascination like light itching my skin, and I knew that Lalee had turned her full attention to him.

“To you, I give loa Loco. The overlord of vegetation and healing herbs.” For a moment Lamar’s expression fell. “You mean they get to be lords of death and ghosts and I get to be lord of the bushes?” “Don’t back-sass me boy. We are not lords of anything. We are followers, petitioners. If the loas don’t bless us, we are nothing.” Instead of answering, Lamar began to go transparent. Lalee, using Renee’s hand, reached out and grabbed his collar. “Come back now. That’s a pretty trick but I am talking about the ganja and tobacco, and other sacred herbs.” Lamar immediately perked up and began to solidify again. “By ganja, you mean—” “Ah, yes. That is something you understand. You may be disappointed unless you rouse Loco and prove your worth to him. ” She passed her hand right through his now-solid-looking shoulder. “As for tricks…if you learn well I have another I would have you court. He would help with whatever magic you may possess.” She wagged a finger in front of his face. “But not until you learn manners, and patience. Not until you please Loco.” “Yes, ma’am,” Lamar said. At that, Lalee dusted her hands together and folded them in front of her. “Now, all of you, lower your eyes. Reach out to those I have named. Melaphia and Renee will help you build the altars and learn the rituals. This is how you gain the power in my blood that runs in your veins.” She clapped her hands together three times and said, “Ache!” Another gust of air blew through the room. When I opened my eyes, Renee was back on the pillow where I had placed her. Even as I rose to my feet, she stirred and opened her eyes. “Mama?” She gazed up at Melaphia. “I had the nicest dream. I dreamed that Maman Lalee was holding me in her arms and whispering in my ear.” Melaphia smiled and gently lifted her. “That’s wonderful. Tell me what she whispered while I get you back to bed. ” As she passed me, carrying her daughter, Melaphia said, “I’ll be back to make each of you a list of things you’ll need.”

Jack “Here are the printouts you wanted,” Werm said. He had a sheaf of papers in one hand and some kind of sticks in the other. “And the incense you asked for, from Spencer’s at the mall.” All conversation among the irregulars had stopped as Otis, Rufus, Jerry, and Rennie took in the spectacle that was Lamar Nathan Von Werm. His silvery white hair was gummed up into little icicle spikes all over his head. His black leather jacket was too big and boxy and his matching pants too tight. If that wasn’t enough to get his ass kicked in most of the dives where the irregulars hung out when they weren’t loitering in my garage, the eyeliner and black nail polish surely were. “Boys, this here’s Werm,” I said. Rufus and Jerry sniffed the air, making Werm for a vampire immediately. Shapeshifters and vampires can always spot one another or smell one another. Rennie, who was human, wouldn’t have been able to tell that Werm was undead if I hadn’t already warned him. Otis, who wasn’t a shifter but wasn’t completely human either, was looking at Werm like he was from the planet What-in-the-Sam-Hill-Are-You? Whether that was because he could tell Werm was a vampire, or because of the getup, I had no idea. I introduced the irregulars, who grunted their acknowledgment of Werm’s presence but didn’t offer to shake. I couldn’t say as I blamed them.

We were all standing around the card table where the boys had brought the items I’d assigned them to pick up for me. Shopping is not easy for vampires. I don’t always have time to get out to the all-night Wal-Mart, and besides, the fluorescent lighting makes my skin look like I just stepped out of a wax museum. Makes the Wally-world “associates” a trifle nervous. “What’s that rusty grill for, Otis?” I asked. Otis had rolled in a waist-high charcoal grill, the old, round kind painted in black enamel. “It’s your altar,” he said proudly. “You said you wanted something you could set up outside. You can burn your candles and incense in here without starting any brush fires.” “You’re nothing if not practical,” I said. “And if I get hungry I can always roast some wieners.” “Or some wiener dogs,” Jerry suggested. He shrugged when nobody laughed. Nobody mentioned the V word at the garage, not even Rennie, who’d known me longer than any human besides Mel. Jerry referred to my nature indirectly from time to time, but I’d let him live. So far. He placed a pack of tea lights from Dollar Tree on the table. “Nothing but the best for you, hoss.” “Thanks,” I said. Jerry was tall and muscular, unlike Otis and Rufus, who were lanky and wiry. I could probably count on him in a fight, but I’d never had to call on him to watch my back. Then again, for all I knew he might owe more allegiance to some pack leader somewhere than he did to me. He was big and strong, but I doubted he was alpha. Rufus said, “What is all this stuff for again?” Rufus was a shapeshifter, too, although I had a feeling he was a different variety than Jerry. His ears weren’t as pointy as Jerry’s, but he never came around when the moon was full. “Some voodoo ritual William’s housekeeper wants me to do. It’s supposed to make me stronger.” “I’ve got to do one, too,” Werm said proudly, “to develop my own natural strengths.” “Yeah, well, you look like you need all the help you can get, sissy boy,” Jerry observed. Werm reddened with anger, but he kept his mouth shut and at least he didn’t do his disappearing act. I was sorry for the little whelp. He’d thought that becoming a vampire would make him an instant badass. No such luck. Poor little bastard was probably still getting sand kicked in his face down at the beach of a night. I’d made him swear not to bite humans, so he complained of being a vampire in name only. Still, it was better than him winding up in the city lockup with sunshine streaming through the windows until he was no-pink-on-the-inside well done. Werm put the incense on the card table with the other things that the irregulars had helped me gather in what amounted to a messed-up redneck scavenger hunt. Rennie got the list Melaphia gave me and ticked off each item with a pencil. White rum, cigars, cedar sprigs, the white candles, incense. “Who’s got the food offering?” Rennie said, and looked at the others over his Coke bottle–thick glasses. Otis stepped forward with a small bag. “It’s a chicken leg from KFC,” he said. “Extra Crispy.” “I’m an Original Recipe man myself,” Rufus said. “Me too,” Rennie agreed solemnly, and handed the list over to me. Jerry weighed in with an observation on the secret herbs and spices, and a debate broke out on the merits of pressure cooking versus slow roasting. While they were busy with their discussion, Werm sidled around the table and handed me the papers. “And they think I’m a pussy,” he muttered sullenly. “Watch yourself,” I said, folding the sheet Rennie handed me and stuffing it into the breast pocket of my shirt to keep it separate from the other papers. “Three of them could probably eat you in a couple of bites and pick their teeth with your bones.”

Werm must have thought I was speaking metaphorically because he only shrugged. “Why do guys like that always pick on me?” I took the papers from him and began to scan them. “Have you looked in the mirror? Maybe it’s the ear bobs.” “Why do your buddies smell funny? And why did my fangs tingle when I got within smelling range?” “They’re shapeshifters,” I said. “Two of them, anyway. I don’t know about the other one. That’s one of the things I’ve got to teach you—how to recognize other nonhumans. Remind me later.” I glanced at the papers before folding them and sticking them into my back pocket. “Shapeshifters?” Werm asked. “You’re shitting me, right? I mean, like, werewolves?” “Yeah. Like werewolves.” Werm stared at the irregulars with alarm. “Oh, man. How many other kinds of—of nonhumans are there out there?” “Lots. Listen, you chose this existence, remember? Your nice little sheltered human life is over. You ’re a creature of the night now, and you’ve only traded one set of guys who can kick your ass for a whole different set of guys who can kick your ass. Only this time, they’re not going to have baseball bats. They’re going to have long, pointy teeth, and you’re going to have to learn to deal or die. Welcome to the dark side, pal.” Werm let this sink in, nodded, and drew himself up. Despite his appearance, the kid had heart. I was even beginning to think he had brains. If he kept his nose clean, I thought he actually had a chance to survive. For a while at least. Changing the subject, Werm asked, “Why did you want to know about the Maya?” “Never you mind.” I’d asked Werm to run an Internet search on the loa Legba who Mel had directed me to pray to, and a separate one for anything Werm could find out about Mayan goddesses. Right now I needed the voodoo lowdown to come up with my own spirit ceremony. The stuff on Connie I’d go over later in private. “You run along and pray to that herb god or whatever it is that Melaphia told you about.” He brightened a little. “The god of really secret herbs and spices. I’ve got some pretty good weed I can burn as an offering, maybe even get a good contact high. But first let me see how you do your ritual. Then I’ll know more how to do my own.” I started to tell him to shove off, but I already felt guilty for not having the time to teach him any more vampire stuff than I had. He’d just gotten a rude introduction to shapeshifters because I hadn’t thought to prepare him for other creatures that went bump in the night. “Follow me.” I swept the items on the table into the grill, replaced the cover, and rolled the whole thing right past the fast -food argument and out the back door of the garage. I settled the grill onto a nice flat spot. “First things first,” I said. I screwed the already loosened top off the bottle of rum and threw it aside. “Here’s to the loa Legba,” I announced, taking a long pull. After swallowing I glanced at the label. This didn’t taste like the rum I was used to, but then it had been a while since I’d seriously assaulted a bottle. My poison of preference was JD bourbon without the rocks. I passed the bottle to Werm. He sniffed it in a prissy fashion and said, “Don’t you want me to get us some Coke to drink this with?” “Son, that would be the ruination of two good drinks. You’re a vampire now, a tough guy. Drink like one.” Werm glanced at me doubtfully and took a sip. He busted into a prolonged coughing fit and handed the bottle back to me, glad to get rid of it. Werm opened the package of candles and lit one while I bit the end off the cigar Jerry had brought and spat it into the dirt. I lit it off the candle and drew on it until I got it going real good. Then, while Werm was lighting the rest of the candles, I tried to

remember Melaphia’s instructions. But the first thing that came back to me when I thought back to the meeting was the look on William’s face when he’d kissed Eleanor’s hand. Hellfire and damnation. I took another long swig of the rum, feeling the odd burn all the way down into my guts. I had completely chickened out of telling William about Olivia’s discovery of Diana’s survival. But how could I tell him? In the days since Eleanor’s making, he’d been a different man—er, vampire. His mood was more upbeat than I’d ever seen it. He’d even been patient with Werm at the meeting; if that didn’t signal a sea change in William’s attitude toward the universe I didn’t know what did. He was…happy. I marveled at the thought. William and happy didn’t belong in the same sentence, but it was right there in his eyes. How could I tell him something that was going to make his world fall apart? I had to do it to save myself. What was the rush, though? Like Olivia said, Diana and William had been separated for hundreds of years. What would another few days’ difference make? If I thought about it long enough, a solution would surely come to me. I took another long draw on the bottle, as if the answer to my problem was at the bottom. I drew the papers out of my pocket and handed them to Werm, who began to read about the loa Legba by the light of the candles. “It says here that he is the great phallic deity.” “I’ll drink to that,” I said. “That’s what the gals down at Eleanor’s used to call me, not in so many words, you understand.” I raised the bottle high in salute and took still another drink. “To loa Legba! My man! He can throw it over his shoulder like a continental soldier.” In my rapidly inebriated state, the words shoulder and soldier turned into a mouthful of slurred mush, making Werm giggle. “Have you fed tonight?” Werm asked, taking the bottle from me. “Nope. You?” Werm screwed up his face, took a drink, and screwed up his face again. “No.” Werm swayed a little as he handed the bottle back to me and peered at the papers again. “The words are trying to swim away from my eyeballs. Hey, I didn’t know vampires could get drunk.” “You bet your ass we can.” I took another drink. “Over the fangs and through the gums.” Werm looked up at me in wonder. “Coooool,” he slurred. He stared at the words as if he was trying to interpret hieroglyphics. “It says that the loa Legba appears as an old man with a cane and a sack, and that he’s the guardian of the gateway.” “What gateway is that?” “The gateway from one world to another. That’s all it says. My inkjet cartridge ran out.” He shrugged. “Sorry.” “That’s okay. I’ve got the prayer Melaphia wrote down for me right here.” I took the list out of my shirt pocket and turned it over to the back. Melaphia’s neat handwriting looked like gibberish. Some of the words were foreign, and even though she ’d spelled them out phonetically, I still could only make sense of a few of them here and there. I was going to have to wing it. What could go wrong? “Okay, Gramps. This one’s from the heart,” I said. I handed the bottle to Werm, who took another drink, nodded approvingly, and handed it back. I raised the bottle and sprinkled a healthy shot or so over the altar. “Uh, I salute you. I honor you. And I ask you to—” I stared at the paper again. “Open the gateway. Yeah, that’s right, and I guess I’m supposed to ask you to make my natural vampire powers even stronger.” “I think that’s the key,” Werm said sagely. “That’s what Willyum and Mela—Melaph—Mel said.” “Yeah,” I said. I set the bottle down and made a sweeping gesture toward the other items on the grill. “All this stuff here is for

you. The candles, the cedar, the incense, the chicken. So open that old gateway of yours and let the sun shine in. ” I snickered. Maman Lalee help me, but I did. “We didn’t know if you liked Original Recipe or Extra Crispy,” Werm said, and busted into a giggling fit. I let the papers fall and grabbed onto Werm’s shoulder for support, but we both collapsed, braying with laughter like a couple of jackasses. “Hey,” Werm said. “Maybe you should see if you can fly now.” “Fly, hell, I can barely stand up.” I snorted with laughter again and Werm shrieked with it. “What’s in this stuff, anyway?” Werm gulped in some air and confessed, “I dis—distillated some of my best weed into it.” He extended his arms. “That’s me, keeper of the ga-ga-ganja.” “Remind me to kill you when I sooober up.” We were laughing so hard we didn’t feel the change in the atmosphere until the candles began to flicker. The wind had shifted but there was something more. Something unnatural was in the air. Something unwholesome and thick with decay. I ’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: When a vampire gets creeped out, well, let’s just say it’s seriously messed up. Werm felt it, too. We stopped laughing at the same instant. We had both been doubled over, and at that level our vision had been clouded by the smoke from the burning incense and flickering candles. We straightened up slowly, and when we did, we had a clear view of the relatively fresh earth a few feet away from us, and it was shifting. My super -sensitive hearing picked up a scrabbling noise underground. We were both silent for a moment, and then Werm said, “Jack, what’s that? It’s coming from that bare patch of dirt over there.” My boozy/trippin’ brain was trying to clear itself. “You mean that patch of dirt about the size of a Chevy Corsica?” Werm just looked at me, not understanding. I didn’t want to understand either, but I was beginning to all the same. Oh no. “Werm, help me think. What did we just ask that voodoo spirit for? What did we ask him for exactly?” “We—we asked him to make your vampire powers even stronger. And to open the gateway to the spirit world. Why? What was wrong with that?” “Oh, shit.” Werm was still staring at me, so he didn’t see the mottled hand burst out of the ground, grasping at the chill night air in the Savannah moonlight. A little while back, my evil grandsire, Reedrek, made a big show of murdering my friend and employee Huey. The poor little simpleminded fellow had the misfortune of being at the wrong place at the wrong time, and, long story short, kind of got gutted like a trout. Since we didn’t want to get the police involved and since Huey didn’t have any family, we decided to bury him behind the wheel of his beloved Chevy with a beer in his hand. Now as I’ve explained before, I have what you’d call an affinity for the dead, even beyond the fact that I are one, as the old joke goes. In short, ghosts love me. In fact, Huey had visited me once after he died, here in the garage, just to let me know that he was doing well in the afterworld. Then he went about his business. That was fine and dandy. This wasn’t. What stood before Werm and me was not a ghost. It was a zombie. It was a full -bore Night of the Living Dead walking corpse. It was Huey in the flesh, you might say. The mottled, rotting, putrid flesh.

Werm walked stiffly to a clump of bushes and retched quietly. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what had happened. My powers where the dead were concerned—those that were previously limited mostly to communication—had blossomed into full-fledged corpse-raising reanimation. Yes, indeed. Thanks to a well-hung voodoo deity, I was now the proud owner of a bouncing baby zombie. Ask and ye shall receive. Huey raised his hand, the hand that had just clawed his way out of the earth. “Hey, Jack.” “Hey, Huey.” Werm appeared at my side. “That’s Huey?” “That’s him. Huey, this is Werm.” “Hey, Werm.” “Hey, Huey,” Werm said wanly. “Jack, I think I know what must’ve—” “Yeah, me too.” Werm and I walked back into the garage, Huey shuffling along behind us. The irregulars were playing cards now, like they did most nights. Jerry, who’d brought the cigars for the ritual, had evidently come with enough for everybody, because there they sat, puffing away and sipping their beers as pretty as you please. Because Werm and I had come in ahead of him, they didn ’t notice Huey until he sat down at his regular place at the table. What little action there was at the table froze solid, as if, ironically, the living men had gone into suspended animation and only the dead man showed any signs of life. The only movement the irregulars displayed was the downward trajectory of their cigars as they hung limply from the corners of their mouths. For a moment I was reminded of that famous old painting of the dogs playing poker. That ’s how still they were, as still as the dogs in the painting, until Huey grinned, showing a mouthful of greenish teeth and rotting gums. “Deal me in, boys,” he said.

Five

William Eleanor and I took the new Mercedes for the drive to where her house on River Street used to stand. I’d retired the Jag. Too many smells and memories attached: Reedrek, Shari, even the hapless Huey. And then there was Olivia. I’d closed that chapter of my life in favor of this new one with she who must be obeyed. “Oh William, I can’t wait to have my wonderful house rebuilt. Just think of all the fun we’ll have.” Eleanor’s voice had lowered to almost a whisper. “I miss our games. Do you remember the dungeon?” Parts of me remembered very well and twitched in interest. “Yes, love, I do.” The memory of watching Olivia feed on, then fuck, her lovely swan blossomed into a full -color image in my mind. Then the memory of Eleanor ’s mouth, Olivia’s mouth, both sucking…sucking. I could almost smell the blood, feel the tug of tongues on hot skin. Eleanor’s hand slid up my thigh. “The new dungeon will be bigger.” She rubbed her palm along my cock. “More dangerous.” I covered her hand with my own and pressed it tighter against my hardening flesh. I ’d intended to answer her, but when she tightened her grip, sinking her fingernails into the fabric over my sensitive foreskin, I drew in a deep, whistling breath between my teeth. Eleanor was so attuned to my fantasies that, if I wasn’t very careful, she’d be leading me around by my cock. And I wouldn’t care. Reluctantly, I pushed her hand back down to my thigh and readjusted my trousers. “Let me drive or I’ll have to pull over and do several things that would utterly shock the neighbors.” Eleanor smiled her secretive, Mona Lisa smile. “I’ve been shocking them for years. Now I have eternity to live up to my reputation.” The house on River Street was progressing nicely. The foundation had been poured. There was a basement larger than any others in the area, complete with a metal door that, at this point, opened to solid dirt. The builder had been puzzled by the plan, but I’d assured him that it was necessary and reminded him I was paying him an inordinate amount of money to do as I asked. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. The fewer humans who knew about the extent of the underground tunnels beneath their homes, churches, streets, and buildings, the better. Eleanor and I gathered the materials we’d collected for her altar and picked our way through the construction site. They’d be putting in the beams for the main floor within the week, so the altar would eventually have to be moved. But this was Eleanor ’s place of power—she was in total control of anyone working in or patronizing her establishment. This is where her coffin would be moved…eventually. She chose the southeast corner of the basement, not far from the door. While I waited, she spread her silk Japanese-style robe on the new concrete floor. Then she placed three white floating candles in a large crystal bowl that she’d filled with ocean water. “Would you bring me the dirt?” she asked.

I moved over to the metal door and pried it open. I dug out two double-handfuls of Savannah’s sandy soil. Soil that had been enriched with the blood and bones of its inhabitants for hundreds of years. Eleanor held out one of my silver serving trays to receive it. Then she placed the tray on the altar. I dusted off my hands and watched as she pricked her finger with a fang and dropped a few drops of her own blood on the soil. With the final additions of a dozen white camellias from Melaphia’s garden, two perfect cuts of raw filet mignon, and a magnum of Cristal champagne, she completed Melaphia’s list. With the grace of the snake tatooed on her skin, she rose and came to stand before me. “You have to leave me now.” Everything in me rebelled. We’d been together constantly since I’d gone to retrieve her from immortal hell. I wasn’t prepared to let her out of my sight just yet. “What could it matter if I stay—” She pressed her fingers to my lips. “Melaphia says you’ll distract me.” I felt as if I’d been reprimanded. Who was Melaphia to judge me? Taking Eleanor’s wrist, I lowered her hand. “I’m capable of being still and silent.” She shook her head. “She’s right. I feel you”—she rubbed her arm, then her chest from heart to neck—“everywhere inside. I’ll know you’re here. I’ll always know.” I had no argument for that. We were connected, not only by blood but by power. Each time we made love it knit the connection tighter and stronger. A rush of something like my old temper raced through me. I ’d been the maker of my own rules for so long…and yet I knew Melaphia was teaching us as I’d asked her. I simply hadn’t anticipated that feeling like a schoolboy being sent away would be part of the bargain. “All right, I’ll go. But I’ll send Deylaud to watch over you.” Eleanor’s laugh was sweet and lighthearted. “You’ve made me strong enough to take care of myself. Why do I need protection?” I knew she was right, but I’d always taken care of my possessions and of the people around me. Eleanor was mine in so many ways. “Not protection,” I said. “Courtesy.” Her smile held. “Uh-huh. Well, okay, send Deylaud if it makes you happy.” She slipped her arms around my neck. “I want you to be happy.” “I am,” I said, lying only a little. “And Deylaud will be ecstatic.” “He does seem to like me.” “Like? ‘Mesmerized’ is more the word. He loves me, but for you I think he would even defy me.” I gave her a soft kiss. “Be careful what you ask of him.” Her smile disappeared as her mouth rose to meet mine in earnest, and I lost the thread of the conversation.

My prediction was correct. Deylaud had barely heard my request for him to go to Eleanor before he was opening the front door. Reyha did not even offer to go along. They’d been bickering of late, but I didn’t have time to sort it out. They were brother and sister, after all. They’d have to kiss and make up at some point. Since Eleanor was out of my care, I thought to use the time to do some business. In a few days I would be hosting the largest group meeting of New World vampires that had ever been held. Hiding was no longer an option since Reedrek had surely communicated his destination to someone in Europe. Better to be prepared together than hidden and separate. Time was of the essence. Reedrek had been missing from Europe for nearly a month and a search party of old sires could be forming, or even already on its way by sea. From the time Jack and I entombed Reedrek, we had been working and organizing, making all the preparations necessary to play host to vampires representing every region of the country. It was unfortunate that Iban, Tobey, and Gerard would have to return to Savannah so soon. I had offered them the use of my plantation home and its staff so they could winter in Savannah, but each had had business interests to attend to and preparations of their own to make before the meeting. The logistics were now complete and the vampires would begin arriving in approximately forty-eight hours. I checked messages on Bloody Gentry. From RioRoho of the Texas contingent: There are those of us who remember the Alamo clearly. We are prepared for anything this time. Let ’em come. See you on the 28th. It was signed TRR. Travis had been at the Alamo, though not as a fighter. He ’d taken his share of the thousands of surplus Mexican soldiers surrounding the upstart Americans. Afterward, he’d adopted a local human name to please all sides: Travis to honor the fabled colonel, and Rubio to placate the period’s Mexican majority. He refused to divulge what the middle R stood for. Perhaps he’d never decided—it had been less than two hundred years, after all. Vampires could, on the whole, take as long as they liked to make up their minds. I’d heard unconfirmed rumors that he’d moved to New Mexico, or was it Arizona? I composed an answer. Send a list of what you require. I am at your service. Thorne. From CENTRALPKVU, whom I knew to be Lucius’s assistant in New York: We require separate and private lodgings for three—will bring staff. Please—no bugs, bumpkins, or barbarians. Lucius remembers Savannah well and wonders how you’ve managed to survive there for all these decades without so many as two sophisticated humans to rub together. He says he would die of boredom within a week. I myself have had my curiosity piqued. We’ll need appropriate transport from the executive airport, fresh blood (Lucius is currently favoring equine, but he said a few willing, attractive swans would go a long way to improve his mood), and a view of the water. A view of the water, indeed. Lucius had always been a prig, and I knew very well he expected first-rate accommodations. But snobbery aside, it would be good to see him once more. I’d already given instructions to my staff to open the house on Isle of Hope. The next message came from my shipping manager in Ireland. Have a request for transport of certain goods from a local. Have not received the usual instructions. Are you expecting a shipment? I don’t like surprises, especially where my business is concerned. Few would have the nerve to bypass me and try to board one of my ships. My first thought was of Olivia—we all knew she had the nerve for most anything—but Olivia would have contacted me, or found transportation on her own. And when I’d last heard from her, she’d said she was traveling in the opposite direction. Curious. Give the customer my e-mail address. Offer nothing else. Let them contact me. Having done all I could do on that front, my thoughts naturally returned to Eleanor and what might be happening in her basement across town. Never having been a patient man—at least not since my “death” by Reedrek’s hand—I left my office and went to my

own altar, which had been set up among Melaphia’s. I lit the candles and just stood there. I knew I should be following instructions and prostrating myself to the orishas, but the itch to have Eleanor in my sight was too strong. Instead of falling to my knees, I picked up the braided lock of Eleanor’s hair and went to retrieve the bone box. The reflecting pond was dark and filled with stars as the shells tumbled from the box. In a blink I was flying among the live oaks, Spanish moss trailing like spidery fingers against my coat and hair. Then I was hovering over the vacant space where Eleanor ’s house used to stand. I could see her face reflected in the candlelight, hear her voice as she chanted. “By the bones we walk on, the air we breathe. By the blood we share, the years we grieve.” As she spoke she drew a symbol on the ground with something white—sugar or flour. “I honor all those before me. Erzulie, come to me. This body is yours. I am yours.” With that promise, Eleanor bent and touched her forehead to the ground and began to hum. The chant may have had words but they were blended together to form a repetitive lament. The sadness in the chant entered my chest like the thrust of a knife. I wanted to charge forward and stop the ceremony, to keep this Erzulie away from my Eleanor; but I had no say in this. According to Melaphia, the Vodoun was our destiny now and we had to find our true path within it. A movement near a tree still blackened by the fire caught my attention. Deylaud—in human form—was kneeling with his hands clasped, as though in prayer. His shoulders were shaking. Floating closer, I could see tears running freely down his cheeks. So he had felt it, too. Eleanor’s sorrowful chant broke its rhythm briefly on a sob. I wanted to go to her, to soothe her. But as I moved to her, I saw that she was beyond my help. Tiny droplets were oozing from the concrete behind the altar like tears and falling like sad raindrops on the flowers. Erzulie was the orisha of love, but she was also the mistress of tragedy. I felt a stirring of true fear, along with a renewed spark of anger. Why would Maman Lalee cause the one I loved to be sacrificed on the altar of tragedy? Hadn’t we had enough pain? As though disturbed by my thoughts, Eleanor sat up. She stared at the concrete and slowly the tears falling from stone began to turn pink, then red. Tears of blood and vengeance, falling in fat juicy drops that sizzled as they struck the now ruined camellias. “No!” I made an attempt to grab Eleanor’s arm and drag her away. The air around her shimmered but she was not moved. A warning growl stopped me from trying again. Deylaud, still in human form, leaped to the concrete floor next to her and bared his canine teeth—an intimidating combination. He stared at a place near where I hovered, sensing a threat but not recognizing what the threat meant. Neither of them could see me. But Eleanor knew I was there. “Go away, William,” she whispered. “You promised. Leave me be.” At her dismissal, fury engulfed me. I would never willingly hurt either of them, but who knew what might happen if emotion overrode my good intentions? In the past I’d used anger to drive me toward revenge or to find prey worthy of a violent death. Fortunately on this night, the power of the shells removed me from the need to decide what should be done. Or perhaps I should have said unfortunately, for I found myself in the dark again. Not the immense darkness of that in-between world of demons and the damned, but the close, suffocating dark of a coffin. My need to see had raised a response from the power flowing through me. And now I saw the monster whose blood I carried in my veins. I found myself staring into the face of my immortal enemy and sire: Reedrek. His wheeze of surprise was worth the trip. Any uncertainty about Eleanor was pushed to the very back of my thoughts, and my anger proceeded to gather like a cloak around me. “You look like hell,” I said, my voice filled with artificial cheer. Reedrek worked his emaciated jaw but could not come up with a proper reply. I immediately felt better. Never believe that well-earned revenge isn’t sweet. Besting Reedrek far surpassed a three-course human meal and a full week of wall-banging sex.

I smiled. His face contorted, though I could feel hope welling inside him, hope and the joy of contact. He ’d been alone in the dark, weighed down by anchor chains, a locked steel coffin, several tons of fine Georgia granite, and Melaphia ’s holding juju since the night he’d tried to kill us all. “They’re…coming,” he wheezed. “Who’s coming?” “Hu…go.” I steeled my expression to keep from showing my surprise. How could Reedrek possibly know anything? He was too far away from his cronies to communicate…unless he could read it from my thoughts. Just in case, I let him soak up all he could of the mayhem that I would wreak on anyone who came to rescue him. “We’re planning a welcome party for those of your friends who might venture across the pond,” I said. “After all, we have three more vacant corners of this lovely building to fill. A blood bank with vampires planted in the foundations—even the humans would appreciate that irony.” “What…do…you…want? My—” He managed a rasping chuckle. “—help?” I thought about that for a few seconds. Asking for Reedrek’s help would be like asking a starving lion to protect a fledgling lamb. But what did I want? I wanted him to suffer. “I have brought you a gift,” I told him. I could feel his hope flare, the hope that I would set him free. “I have a different sort of darkness to show you.” With that the shells set about their work. I heard the demons before I saw them, as they crowded into the small airless space. If Reedrek had no soul to drop into the stopover between life and hell—the place where Eleanor and Shari had witnessed unimaginable horrors—then I, with the help of my personal Vodoun loa Ghede, would bring a corner of hell to him. It was the perfect torture for my revolting sire. I hovered only long enough for Reedrek to notice the demons pressing closer. Immortality had its problems along with its assets. They wouldn ’t be able to kill him, but by the time they finished assaulting his sanity, he’d most likely beg to be staked and put out of his misery. “As Olivia would say, Cheerio!” I called over the din. The only answer was a wail that would have raised goose bumps on my skin—if I’d been occupying it at the time.

Jack I led Huey by the hand through the tunnels to Melaphia’s house, hoping to goodness that she was home and up to helping me with my zombie infestation. He lurched along beside me like a drunk two-year-old. I don’t know if that was because zombies really did walk like they do in the Living Dead movies or because he couldn’t see. And I didn’t know if he couldn’t see because zombies can’t see in low light or because I had a bag over his head. It wasn’t like I hadn’t cut him some eyeholes. The reason I’d put a brown paper bag over his head was so he wouldn’t scare the piss out of some poor old homeless bastard who’d been hoping to get a warm night’s sleep in some corner of the tunnels—that is, if he didn’t scare someone plumb to death. As we made our way through the darkness—I had no trouble seeing, of course—I prayed that Melaphia could work the same magic over Huey’s body that she’d worked over Shari’s when she died. It seemed like I was doing a lot of praying just lately, especially for a demon damned for all eternity. Dying while in the process of being made into a vampire was particularly hard on poor Shari ’s earthly body. It had begun to decay rapidly, but Melaphia had said some chants over it and strewn some herbs onto it, and presto—she’d been able to spruce the body up quite a bit. If she could just do the same for Huey it might buy me enough time to figure out what to do with him.

The irregulars had been so shocked and horrified by Huey’s zombified reappearance that Huey had won a few hands of poker. That never used to happen. The poor devil was so dumb he never asked for any cards from the dealer, always keeping the cards he’d been dealt. This time the irregulars were so distracted they didn’t ask for any cards either, so it evened up the odds. It was Huey’s lucky night, all right. Not only did he win at poker, but he really hit the jackpot when I accidentally raised him from his eternal dirt nap. Way to go, Huey. Werm was having a hard time dealing with zombies and werewolves on the same night, so I ’d told him to go home. To the irregulars’ credit, they did try their best to help me think of some options. “Tell people he’s a leper,” Otis had suggested. “They have pieces fall off all the time, they say.” This idea had put the others right off their Doritos and Old Milwaukee. “Dammit, Otis,” Rennie spat. “How many customers do you think we’d have left if we let it be known that our detail man had leprosy? Even if you could keep folks from seeing him, they’d eventually smell him. People like their vehicles to have that new car smell after they’ve been detailed, not that month-old corpse reek.” A number of other suggestions were vetoed, including one Rufus had about putting a bandana over Huey’s nose and mouth and telling people he had the galloping consumption. I pointed out that people weren’t keen on contracting tuberculosis any more than they wanted a dose of leprosy. That’s when I decided to throw myself on Melaphia’s mercy. First I would have to admit that I screwed up the voodoo ritual she’d so carefully picked out for me. Then I’d have to admit that my antics had produced a specimen of the walking dead that smelled a whole lot like dog poop and Doritos. When we got to the tunnel opening that led to William’s vault, I took a dogleg turn that I knew would take me out the root cellar in Melaphia’s backyard. Her cottage was the former servants’ quarters of William’s mansion and shared its courtyard. For servants’ quarters, it was quite a show-place that was on the historic register and was a featured stop on Savannah’s tour of homes every year. An ornate iron fence separated William ’s part of the courtyard—complete with its fancy Japanese reflecting pool —from Melaphia’s, which was full of a huge variety of flowering plants, mostly of creeping vinelike varieties. I pushed open the slanted wooden lid of the cellar and looked out. The fence around her part of the courtyard was stylish but designed as much for privacy as it was for beauty. The vines, heavily laden with flowers, covered the fence and the tall vegetation with riotous color and a hypnotic scent. The Spanish moss that grew on the close canopy of live oaks hung down so low it almost met up with the vines and taller flowering bushes. The whole effect was of stepping into the garden of Eden. The courtyard garden had always been like this, even in the days of Melaphia ’s foremothers. Flowers that didn’t have any business blooming in the dead of winter were as plentiful in January as they were in May. It was a testament to the power of the generations of kinswomen who had lived here. I suspected the fortresslike privacy was to hide the ancient voodoo rituals that were too expansive to be held indoors and must be performed under the stars. I told Huey to stay put and was about to climb up the cellar’s stone steps when the back door of the house slammed and Renee appeared, dressed in her school uniform and saddled with a backpack almost as big as she was. Her beaded braids bounced with every step as she walked along the cobblestone path. I tried to close the hatchlike door before she saw me, but I was too late. “Hi, Uncle Jack,” she said. “Who’s your friend and why does he have a bag over his head?” “Uh, this is Huey. He’s a…leper.” “Oh,” she said. If she thought it strange that a vampire and a leper were hiding among the potatoes and yams in her mother ’s root cellar she didn’t let on. In her nine years on earth, Renee had seen more weird goings-on than most people do if they live to be a hundred. “Be careful. The sun’s almost up.”

“Thanks, punkin,” I said. “I will.” I saw a flash of light through the tiny slats in the fence and heard the ding, ding, ding a car makes when you open the door with the key still in it. “That’s my car pool,” Renee announced and let herself out of a gate that was all but hidden by the vines. Melaphia, who had poked her head out the back door to make sure Renee made it to the car pool, spied me standing waist deep in the cellar. “Jack, what are you doing here? And who is that with you?” She stepped out of the house dressed in one of her colorful, African-inspired ceremonial robes made from a patchwork of brilliant silks. “Uh, this is Huey.” “Why is there a bag over his head?” “Well, uh…” Now that I had actually arrived, I couldn’t think of how to begin. “Wait! Huey? The Huey who was killed a few weeks back?” Huey waved. “Hey,” he said in a muffled greeting. “Pleased to meet ya, ma’am.” I laced my fingers together in front of me. “That would be him.” “Jack! You crazy cracker, what have you done?” Melaphia stalked closer, squinting into the darkness to get a better look at Huey. “It was an accident! Honest! I prayed to that voodoo god and asked him to make my vampire powers stronger, so maybe I could make the most of that flying thing, and before you know it, Huey here was pushing his way out of the ground like a March daffodil.” Melaphia winced and closed her eyes. “Your powers with the dead. Those were the powers that got enhanced. Tell me, where did you perform your ceremony?” “In back of the garage,” I admitted. “Next to where you buried Huey? Way to go, Jackie. How many times do I have to tell you, the forces I work with are powerful. You have to be careful how you use them.” “I know, I know. I screwed up. But what am I going to do with him now?” Melaphia steeled herself. “Let me see him.” I lifted the bag off Huey’s head. One of his eyeballs had gone askew and no longer looked in the same direction as the other one. It was not a good look for him—not that it would be for anybody, come to think of it. “Oh, my god!” Melaphia exclaimed. I let the bag fall back down over the poor guy’s head. Just because he was the walking dead didn’t mean he didn’t have feelings. “Well, what do you expect? He is a zombie.” “I know he’s a zombie! I’m a voodoo mambo, dammit. I know a zombie when I see one!” “Mel, calm down. You’ve got to help me. Can’t you spruce him up like you did with Shari? Maybe do some spell or say some kind of chant that will keep him from rotting any more than he already has?” Melaphia drew herself up and looked away from Huey. “I’ll see what I can do, but I need time. Take him back to the garage and lock him in your office. I’ll gather up some herbs and offerings and consult the texts, and I’ll be right over there as soon as I get

through with Connie.” “Connie?” My breath caught at the mention of her name. “She’s coming here?” “Yes, I went to her and talked her into coming to what I described as a…a women-running-with-the-wolves ritual that must take place precisely at sunrise. The results should give us more of an inkling of what we’re dealing with where she’s concerned.” “‘What we’re dealing with’? It sounds like you’re more concerned about what Connie’s power means to us than it means to her,” I observed uneasily. “When I say ‘we,’ Jack, I mean you. Like I told you before, she could be a danger to you, but I won’t know until after the ceremony. And maybe not even then.” “I can’t believe that you talked her into coming over here.” “I think she’s just doing it to ingratiate herself with me.” “Why would she do that?” “Because she knows you and I are close. She asked me a lot of questions about you. What happened when you went over there to break up with her?” Melaphia eyed me suspiciously. “Um. Nothing, nothing at all. I just broke up with her and got the charm back like you said.” “Uh-huh,” Mel said, clearly not buying it but knowing I wasn ’t ready to talk about the incident. Maybe I never would be. I wanted to know what Connie had asked about me, but I didn’t want to have to answer any of Mel’s questions. “Jack, this is a very sensitive time for her, so you leave her alone. Now you have to get out of here and take your walking corpse with you.” I got my key ring out of my pocket and removed the key for my office. As I was handing it to Melaphia, Huey spoke up. “I’m hungry, Jack,” he said, kind of pitiful-like. I looked at Melaphia in alarm. “They don’t really eat human brains, do they? ” I asked. When she only rolled her eyes heavenward, I said, a little annoyed, “Seriously. It’s not like I can go to the corner grocery and pick up some zombie chow, now is it?” Melaphia sighed and stared at me like I was getting on her last nerve. “They eat meat, and they aren’t picky about what kind. Go get a few packs of pork chops or something, and make sure he has all he wants.” “Yeah? And what happens if I run out?” “Let’s just say you might want to invest in a muzzle to keep him from gnawing the customers.” “Oh man!” Melaphia put her hands on my chest and pushed gently, as if to get me on my way. “You go on now. Connie will be here any minute and I don’t want you distracting her. Lock Huey in the office with some T -bones, go home, and get some sleep, and I’ll come as soon as I can and see what I can do. Try not to worry.” “Thanks, Mel. I owe you one.” “You got that right.” I put my hand on top of Huey’s head and pushed gently to get him seated on the stone steps. Then I lowered the wooden hatch over us. “I’ll get you some breakfast soon, buddy, real soon,” I told him. I turned around to face the courtyard, settled myself on

my knees, and peered out through a crack in the hatch and into the gathering light. My fangs started to itch the way they did whenever I was caught outdoors near sunrise. Directly, Connie came in through the same gate that Renee had used. She must have been fresh off the night shift, because she still wore her uniform. Melaphia took her to a structure in the middle of the garden, one that I hadn ’t noticed earlier. It was a grouping of three wooden poles, lashed together at the top and spread out at the base, forming a pyramid. I focused my batlike hearing, trying to make out what they were saying. They whispered to each other so as not to be heard by any passersby on the sidewalk outside the fence. Connie said, “All right. I’ll do what you say, but when all this is over I have some questions about Jack McShane.” “Very well,” Melaphia said, and gestured to the east, toward the pink and purple fingers of sunrise reaching out from the hidden horizon. So Connie was going to question Melaphia about me. She could try. Mel and her foremothers had kept the secrets of the undead—and voodoo secrets of their own—for generations. Not even a tough cop like Connie could make her talk. Connie took off her hat and shook out her thick, shiny hair. She nodded her understanding of the instructions that Melaphia was giving her. Something about the Mayans worshipping some kind of sun god and that’s why the ceremony had to be done at sunrise. I hadn’t had time to read the printouts Werm had come up with, not that reading them would give me much of a clue as to what was about to take place. When Mel calmly instructed Connie to remove her clothes —all of them—my mouth watered and my loins tightened. After carefully setting her cap on the ground, Connie started unbuttoning her blouse. There was a movement to my right, and I saw that Huey had turned around and was watching, too. I took hold of the edge of the paper bag and slid it around so that the eyeholes were in back. Zombie Huey had even fewer IQ points than Regular Huey. Just figuring out how to turn the bag around would occupy him for twenty minutes. By the time I looked back in Connie’s direction, she was removing her bra. The sun, although it had still not broken over the horizon, was getting warm enough to make my eyes sting and water. Her breasts sprang from their elastic holster like they had minds of their own, and my fingers tingled with the need to touch them again. Her breasts were full and shapely, with deep rose areolas and nipples that responded to the cold January air by hardening into plump buds that begged to be licked and suckled. I angled my head to get a better look. She untied and kicked off her shoes, peeled off her socks, and began to unfasten her belt buckle. I forgot to breathe. Off went her uniform pants, revealing a pair of white panties with lace panels on the sides and a solid panel in front covering her sex—but not for long. I sighed and hugged myself when she was completely naked, feeling a need so strong it was more akin to pain than pleasure. She was the most perfectly formed woman I’d ever seen. Melaphia instructed her to kneel beneath the zenith of the pyramid and began to sprinkle some herbs onto her body. Connie put her hands together and joined Melaphia in a chant of some kind. I felt the rhythm and began to sway, propped there on my knees on the cold stone. The sun rose closer to the horizon and I became even more uncomfortable, but I couldn’t break away. I wanted to go to her and hold her perfect body next to mine until I was consumed by fire, burned as a sacrifice to the sun god she served. Burning to ash might just be worth it. How cursed I was to be a creature of the night when Connie was a child of the sun. Even though she roamed the night as a justice bringer, she clearly belonged to the light. The rays mixed with the natural bronze of Connie ’s skin and made her look like the true goddess she was. The first few rays of the rising sun bathed the garden and everything in it with golden light. I could see her more clearly now, and it was worth the scorching pain on my face and neck. My gaze took her in all over again, starting at the top of her head, with her hair glinting blue-black, down to her delicately arched brows, wide cheekbones, cupid’s bow lips, and graceful neck. I sighed again at the sight of her breasts and the womanly curve of her hips. There was that damned birthmark, the one that had burned my hand and jolted me against the wall at Connie’s apartment. It seemed to soak up the rays of the morning sun and glow

with its own fire. Melaphia saw it, too. She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. It was then I saw the only other flaw on Connie’s otherwise perfect body. A scar on her lower abdomen. I once had a girlfriend who’d had a scar like that, a smooth line I liked to run my tongue across. Strange—two women with the exact same scar. What had Wanda’s scar been from? Oh, my God. She’d called it…a cesarean section. I stared at it in wonder. Connie had a child.

Six

William On Thursday an invitation arrived for a winter gathering on Friday evening at the Granger house. My old friend Tilly was always good for a party, although she rarely went out these days. As she neared a hundred years, age had slowed her down a bit, but it didn’t prevent her from inviting company to her mansion on Orleans Square. The fact that the invitation gave little notice fit her habits as well. Tilly was determined to live in the day and not plan too far into the future. After last evening’s lessons and cautions, I was heartily tired of voodoo rules and rituals. It was time for me and my household to get back to normal life for a change. Well, as normal as immortal blood drinkers could claim to be. I’d had Eleanor all to myself until Melaphia interfered with her lists and orders. Now I wanted to show my new protégée off to the world, to prepare her for a larger circle of community and the rapidly approaching meeting of more vampires than had gathered in one city since my arrival in the New World. Tilly’s get-together would present the perfect opportunity. Although not in the same league as the English Ton, the so-called high-society ladies of Savannah might not approve of Eleanor. But when she was sponsored by my money and influence, and Tilly’s invitation, they could not refuse her. The whole thing would be a grand distraction from our true business. We had only a few days until the first representatives of the New World vampires arrived. “But William, what should I wear?” Eleanor seemed unusually rattled by Tilly’s surprise party. “You looked beautiful the night of the charity ball.” “That’s back when I had clothes. Almost everything I owned burned in the fire.” I’d forgotten about that. I’d been unconcerned about replacing her clothes, since I preferred her naked. “We’ll buy you new ones,” I offered. “Whatever you like.” “But how can I go into a store and try on clothes?” When I didn’t respond, she took my arm and pulled me into the bathroom. The absence of any reflection in the mirror made her point. “I never realized how much I’d miss my reflection.” She shook her head and turned in my arms. “We don’t have time to shop on the Internet. If you must, you go. I’d better stay home.” I was determined to keep anything else from coming between us, even for a few hours. “I’ll take care of it.” It really wasn’t that difficult. Humans are used to eccentricities in the wealthy. Besides, my odd reputation preceded me in everything I did. So when I called Taylor and Wright, one of the most exclusive boutiques in the city, and asked for a private

shopping session after hours, they were quick to agree. I ’d read that many current celebrities demanded special treatment. If someone called Puffy or Paris could be accommodated, then certainly we could. I went full out and ordered the limo brought into service, driven by Chandler, my plantation caretaker. Presentation is half the battle when impressing humans. Money is the other half. This would be an adventure. Eleanor was still nervous when we pulled up in front of the shop. “But what if they can tell something is wrong with us?” I cupped her cheek with my hand. “First of all—” I held her gaze. “—there is nothing whatsoever wrong with you. You are magnificent. Second, I’ve taken care of the mirror problem.” “But—” “You’ll see. Now, let’s shop, shall we?” Chandler opened the limo door and we moved toward the distinguished man waiting at the front entrance. He held the door open for us. “So, good to see you this evening, Mr. Thorne, and Miss—” “Dubois,” I said. He introduced himself. “I’m Mr. Cornelius, the manager.” As we followed him through the semi-darkened store to the designer area, he continued, “I’ve had several items brought out in the size Mr. Thorne mentioned. They are in the fitting room. And we’ve taken care of the other matter.” Eleanor gripped my hand. I had to smile. When we arrived at the well-lit portion of the store, Eleanor stopped. It wasn’t the rack of clothes or the two saleswomen that caught her attention; it was the fact that every mirror in the vicinity had been covered. “How did you do this?” Eleanor whispered. I leaned close to her ear. “Oh, I told them you hated mirrors, and that you were sure those fitting room mirrors made you look ten pounds heavier.” “You didn’t!” She laughed. I shrugged. “It’s in their best interests to please you. Isn’t that right, Mr. Cornelius?” “Absolutely.” He smiled. “Ladies?” That was the cue for the sales staff to descend on Eleanor. The moderns of today talk of “shopping until dropping” or something to that effect. If they only knew that in the past, a new wardrobe could take hours to fit and weeks to complete—perhaps then they wouldn’t complain. The past did hold certain advantages, though, one being that, with enough profit on the table, a tailor or seamstress would take up residence in a customer’s house if necessary. I found a comfortable seat and watched as my Eleanor was transformed. Three hours later, as Chandler loaded the purchases into the limo, I shook Mr. Cornelius’s hand. I doubt he even noticed the chill of my skin after availing himself of my black AmEx card. Centuries might come and go, but human business remained the same. As I helped Eleanor into the car, one of my associates stepped out of the shadows. “Sorry—uh, excuse me—” Werm glanced from me to Mr. Cornelius. With the intuition of an expert in customer service, Mr. Cornelius controlled his reaction. But he didn’t look happy. I suppose he thought we were about to be attacked by a gang of street

urchins. “Don’t worry. This is a…friend.” I soothed Cornelius’s mind. “He’s…in the music business.” He nodded and turned his thoughts back to counting his receipts for the evening, as though what I’d said made perfect sense. “The music business?” Werm repeated when the store manager was out of range. “How else am I supposed to explain your appearance? Do you own any clothes that aren’t black and full of holes?” Werm looked down at his attire. “I guess that music thing is cool.” He smiled. “Thank you. Now why are you here?” The smile disappeared. “Oh, Melaphia called me on my cell and sent me to find you. Actually, her words were something like, Get your scrawny extrawhite butt over to—” I held up a hand to stop him. “And she’s looking for me because…?” “She said some of your guests have arrived. They’re at someplace called the plantation.” “Get in.” When Werm made a move to slide into the car next to Eleanor, I grabbed a handful of his shirt and shoved him toward the front. Once we were settled and the car was in motion, I gave him the opportunity to enlighten me. “Did Melaphia say who had arrived?” “Nope.” “Where is Jack?” “He’s, um, last time I saw him he was at the garage,” he answered. His gaze drifted from me to Eleanor, who was decked out in a short, derriere-hugging skirt and some sort of silk knitted top. He turned transparent at the edges. Another swain smitten. If he’d been closer I would’ve shaken him until his brand-new fangs rattled. This was getting us nowhere. “Chandler,” I said to the driver. “Drop Lamar at—” “Can’t I go with you? I want to meet the new vamps in town. What if some of them are ”—his gaze shifted back to Eleanor— “girls?” “Sorry to disappoint you, but as far as I’m aware there will be no immortal females in the group. And you will meet them,” I said. “But not tonight. Now where do we drop you?” He looked out the window at the passing houses. “Club Nine, I guess. Maybe I can find that new friend of mine.” “Drop Lamar at Club Nine, then take us out to the plantation,” I said.

“You’re early,” I remarked as I embraced Iban. “Yes, well, I have my reasons.” He turned to the human next to him. “This is Sullivan, my production assistant.” I greeted Sullivan. Human or not, if Iban trusted him I would as well. “Welcome to my home.”

Then I introduced Eleanor. “I believe we met on my last visit,” Iban said, bowing, then raising Eleanor’s hand to kiss her knuckles. “But I see many things have changed since then. It’s a pleasure to see you again.” The gleam in his eyes was a little too warm for my taste. He wagged his eyebrows at me before turning to lead Eleanor to a seat in the living room. I intercepted them. Removing Eleanor’s hand from Iban’s, I said, “You can take the man off the Continent but you can’t take the Continental rake out of the man.” Iban laughed. “I hope I haven’t offended,” he said. “Ah, but you’ve always had an eye for beauty, my friend. I’m pleased to see you looking so well. Your new life agrees with you, yes?” I met Eleanor’s gaze as I settled her onto the couch. She smiled. “Yes,” I answered. “It does. Now, sit down and tell me your news.” Chandler served drinks as Iban filled me in on those he left behind in California. “We’ve put the word out and are keeping our movements to a minimum until we determine the actual threat to you. If need be, we can have upward of twenty in Savannah within hours.” “What about your ranch in Marin? It’s the most obvious way to find you.” Iban chuckled. “Ah, yes. But the ranch is being guarded well. Not only by my offspring but also by my fans. There are many who consider my movies the ultimate communication from another species.” “Don’t tell me. They want to become vampires, right?” “Some of them think they already are,” Sullivan added. “There’s a motorcycle group called the Midnight Riders. We used them in the movie Sun and Moon back in 2000. Ever since then, they’ve made it their mission to make sure Iban has anything he needs.” “And several things I don’t need.” Iban tsked and made a dismissive motion with his hand. “A gentleman simply cannot accept the kinds of…female gifts they offer on a regular basis. I propose that if I, pardon the expression, slept with every beautiful young woman they brought to my gate, I’d be a mere shadow of the vampire I am today. “But enough about me,” Iban went on. “What have you heard from the others?” “I’m in communication with all but one of the colonies in North America. The representatives are on their way. By Saturday evening, we should have a quorum.” “And what of your sire?” I thought of Reedrek twirling in demon hell and could almost hear the screams of his furious fear. If I ’d thought him dangerous before, he would be doubly so if he ever escaped his well-hidden tomb. “He’s exactly where we put him. As Jack would say, he’s dead without the possibility of parole.” “Do we know anything of those we may have to face?” “Olivia has promised a report on Saturday via satellite. She says she has a spy among one of the more remote clans. One that had some ties with Reedrek.” “Ugh.” Iban put down his half-empty glass of blood. “Even his name puts me off my refreshment. I have my own sire to defy.” Iban fell silent and I knew he was thinking of the past and some of the horrible things that had been done to him in the name of his sire, Thanatos.

“One battle at a time, my friend. Remember, we have allies in each other. None of us wishes to return to the bitter past. Our future remains here.” “Better to burn in hell than deal with Thanatos. ” After a moment of silence, Iban worked to shake off his dark thoughts. He smiled at Eleanor. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to spoil the evening and our reunion with sinister business.” He looked at me. “And where is Jack? I wanted Sullivan to meet him.”

Jack I raced back to the garage right after sundown to see what Melaphia had been able to do with Huey. Her skill with manipulating the dead would make all the difference to Huey’s future. I’d had a lot of time to think while I was tossing and turning in my box trying to sleep. Putting him back in the ground was a nonstarter. I mean, he was already dead, but reanimated. Burying him that way would be too gruesome even for me. And that’s saying something. There weren’t too many good options. He’d make a helluva sideshow act, but I didn’t even know if there were any sideshows in this day and time. Besides, he didn’t like to travel. I suppose I could pay somebody desperate enough to take him off my hands. Maybe some poor family would be willing to put him up in the attic and call him their crazy uncle Huey. Crazy, smelly Uncle Huey. I roared into an open bay and hopped out of the ’Vette. Rennie and the irregulars were standing around Huey, who sat calmly in a clean pair of coveralls. He was eating raw hamburger with a plastic spoon out of an old Tupperware container. I went around to face him, hoping for the best. “Okay, boys,” I said. “Is this wishful thinking on my part or does he look a lot better than last night?” “His skin tone looks a lot more natural,” Otis said. “Instead of being greenish gray, he just looks sallow, kind of jaundiced, like.” I didn’t know Otis even knew the word, but jaundiced was a lot better than putrid. I’d take jaundiced any day of the week. “What about you, Rennie? Think he’ll pass for warm-blooded?” Rennie adjusted his glasses and leaned forward, studying Huey carefully. “I was still here this morning when Melaphia came in and got to work on him. She took some nylon thread and sewed his flesh back together in places, so he’s got a Frankenstein thing going on, but it’s not too bad. She had all these roots and twigs and herbs and things that she sprinkled on him and then she chanted some and even danced a little. Before I knew it, he stopped stinking and kind of tightened up. The best part is, she says she thinks she’s got it fixed where he won’t decay any more than he already has.” “Wasn’t there anything she could do for that there eyeball?” Rufus asked. Huey’s eyes still looked like they belonged to one of those lizards that can look in several different directions at once. “I reckon not,” Rennie said. “I could take a go at it,” Jerry offered. “I took a mail order course in taxidermy one time. I’ve got some eight-pound test line in the truck, and if somebody can find a needle, I can try to—” I held up my hand. “Huey’s been through enough in the last twenty-four hours without throwing amateur eyeball surgery into the bargain. What do you think, Rennie? Is it okay with you if he comes back to work?” “Fine with me,” Rennie said. “I’ll keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t chow down on any customers.” It was decided that we would lock Huey in the garage during the day with all the raw meat he was likely to need and a cot in one of the oil pits to sleep on. I kind of liked the idea of him being there. It was the next best thing to having a guard dog. Let William have his prancy puppies. I had me a zombie that could match ’em pound for pound for loyalty, with opposable thumbs thrown into the bargain. Satisfied, the irregulars migrated back to the card table and sat down to their game. I heaved a mammoth sigh of relief. Mel had saved my bacon. Again.

Huey belched loudly. “Anybody got any ketchup?”

Somewhere around midnight I was changing a timing belt in a Dodge Caravan when I heard a familiar voice call my name in an aristocratic Spanish accent. “Iban! You old dog,” I said, wiping the grease off my hands with a shop rag. He grinned and walked into the garage, followed by a human guy I’d never seen before. The irregulars kept to their card game, assuming the two men were customers. I clapped Iban on the back and shook his hand. Iban was my favorite of William’s imported European vamps. Even though he was richer than God just like the others, he had always treated me as an equal and never put on airs. He was good people. “You’re a day or two early for the meeting, aren’t you?” “It’s great to see you again, Jack. We came out early to get started on my next film. I want you to meet my friend and associate, Sullivan Hayes. He’s going to be doing some preproduction while I ’m meeting with you and William and the others at the conclave.” Sullivan and I shook hands. “Nice to meet you, Jack,” Sullivan said. “Iban’s told me a lot about you.” I guess Iban saw the question in my eyes. “Do not worry,” he said. “You may trust Sullivan. He knows.” Now that was a shocker. The only humans besides the caretaker Chandler and my trusty partner Rennie that I knew who were hip to vampires were Melaphia and Renee and their foremothers, but that was their birthright. The only reason the irregulars knew I was a monster was because they were not 100 percent human themselves. I guess the surprise showed on my face, because Iban set about explaining things. “Sullivan is my compadre,” Iban said, emphasizing the foreign word. “Uh, okay. Hey, I’m as open-minded as hell,” I said. “It’s a free country, right? I’m all for gay rights.” Iban and Sullivan busted out laughing. “I assure you it’s not like that, Jack,” Iban said. “Sullivan is my ‘trusted one.’ You know, the same as Melaphia is for William. In Spain, we call them compadres.” I scratched my head, considering this. I had no idea that what Melaphia was had a name, that her relationship with William was some formal institution in the vampire world. I’d always been a lone wolf, so to speak. I wondered what I’d do with a compadre. And I also wondered how you managed to talk someone into becoming one. I mean, are you fishing with a guy one day or watching the game and drinking brewskies and all of a sudden say, Hey, buddy. Have I ever mentioned I’m an evil bloodsucker? How’d you like to maybe stand in line for me at the DMV? I’ve got a little problem with sunlight. It would turn me as crispy as fried pork rinds. There had to be a catch. “Are you…enthralled?” I asked, feeling awkward. Sullivan laughed again. “Just with the movie business. I’m not like Renfield in Dracula. No fly-eating for me. I help Iban in small ways because I choose to.” “And besides being a great compadre, he’s a top-notch screenwriter. He wrote the screenplay for the movie we’re working on now,” Iban said. “What’s it about?” I asked. Sullivan grinned and said, “The title is Mask of the Vampire.” I looked from one of them to the other. “You’re kiddin’, right?”

“Not at all,” Iban said. “It’s a story about a whole subculture of vampires who hide in plain sight. Ironic, no?” Too close to home, is what I called it. It never ceased to amaze me how loosey-goosey some other vampires were with the thin veil between us and the human world. Still, the idea was intriguing: making a movie about our lives and calling it fiction. It had a delicious quality, like pulling the wool over people’s eyes and getting away with something secret and satisfying. The part of me that loves mischief—and it’s a big part—warmed to the idea. “I like it,” I told them. “I’m glad to hear it,” Iban said. “Because we want to hire you to help us scout locations for exterior shots.” “Me?” “Sure. Who knows Savannah better than you, having lived here for more than two human lifetimes,” Sullivan said. “Me and my partner Rennie aren’t all that busy right now, so why not? Sure. Count me in.” Iban beamed. “That’s great. It’ll be fun.” “What kind of locations are you looking for?” I asked them. Sullivan said, “We’re looking for atmosphere, atmosphere, and more atmosphere. Spooky cemeteries with lots of Spanish moss, foreboding old mansions, that sort of thing. I mean, it is a vampire picture, right?” “You’ve come to the right place for that,” I assured him. “But unfortunately you haven’t parked in the right place,” a female voice said from near the entrance. Sullivan and Iban had blocked my view of the door so I hadn’t seen Connie approach, and I was so engrossed in the movie talk that I hadn’t felt her presence. We all turned to face her. I couldn’t keep from staring. It’s not like she was naked or anything, but I had seen her in the magnificent altogether just this morning. That’s something else that had troubled my sleep. But what kept me staring at my coffin lid even more was that birthmark and the scar—and what they meant. So many questions had gone through my mind. If Connie had a child, where was it? Maybe the baby hadn ’t survived, but if it had, was it with an ex-husband somewhere? The Connie I knew was too fierce to have given up her child without a fight. As I ’d lain sleepless, a feeling had begun in my chest—in my heart—as cold and dead as that was. The more I thought and wondered, the stronger the feeling had grown. Connie had been in trouble at some point in her life. Perhaps she still was. And the fate of the child was at the center of the crisis. I longed to ask her, to sit her down and make her tell me. Maybe I could help. Why the hell did this vamp conclave have to be now? Everything was hitting the fan at once. I wanted to monitor the situation with Connie. If what Melaphia discovered about her was too disturbing, Connie might need me. I just knew I could comfort her. If there was anyone on God’s green earth who knew what a curse it was to be nonhuman in a human world, it was me. Melaphia seemed to think that Connie and I were destined to be some kind of natural enemies. But my heart, whatever was left of it, wouldn’t let me believe that. Right now that little bit of heart was aching just looking at her. Her skin glowed with the radiance of life that another human being would take for granted. Not poor little undead me. Her hair shone like onyx in the garage ’s fluorescent light. Her glance passed over me as if I wasn’t there, lit briefly on Iban, and then settled on Sullivan. “Who does that rented Suburban belong to?” She jerked her thumb toward the outside. “It’s parked against a yellow curb.”

“That would be mine,” Sullivan admitted. He turned a dazzling smile on Connie, probably hoping to charm his way out of a ticket. I hoped that was all it was. I felt a prickle of annoyance at the guy I’d started to like. “Sullivan, Iban, this is Officer Consuela Jones. She likes to make sure folks around here keep to the straight and narrow,” I said. Connie’s lip curled slightly and she glanced at my midsection as if she couldn ’t bring herself to look a miserable wretch like me directly in the eye. My breath went out of me a little at that, especially when her gaze returned to Sullivan. “Pleased to meet you,” she drawled, and offered her hand. Iban shook hands, but Sullivan caught her hand and brought it briefly to his lips. I bit my lip and felt the sting of my own fangs. Iban noticed, giving me a sideways glance. Sullivan didn’t. I don’t know how long he’d been a compadre, but he couldn’t read vampires for shit. Or maybe he just didn’t care. He was under Iban’s protection, after all, and he knew that I wouldn’t be much of a host if I ate my friend’s trusted human. Sullivan had dark brown hair, kind of shaggy in the back, and was very tanned and fit. He was too lean to be called buff, but was more athletic-looking. He wore faded jeans, a dark T-shirt, and a trendy sport coat. And he was looking at Connie with way too much interest. “The pleasure’s mine,” he said. “Please forgive me for breaking one of the laws of your fair city.” “Are you from out of town, then?” Connie asked. “They’re from California,” I said, hoping she would look at me again if I spoke up. I wasn’t looking for a confrontation with her, but right then I’d do just about anything to get her away from Sullivan. I remembered her trying to get information about me out of Mel, and I got the feeling she wasn’t here on police business. “I’m sure you’re not here to catch traffic violators,” I said. “Is there something you’d like to talk to me about?” “As a matter of fact, there is. I hate to take you away from your guests, but is there a place we can talk privately for a minute?” “Excuse us, guys,” I said, and gestured toward the kitchen area. When we’d cleared the card players and reached the kitchen, Connie came right out with it. “I’ve got to know what happened in my apartment the other night, Jack.” “I thought you said you were through with me,” I said, trying not to sound peevish. “That depends.” “On what?” “On what you have to say for yourself. And what you are.” A tiny spark of hope flared in my chest. Could she ever understand? “Listen, I want to confide in you, I really do.” “Then do it.” Her eyes searched mine intensely. If I had a soul her gaze would be boring through it. “I can’t. It’s not the right time.” I needed time to prepare, to plan how to tell her, to think of what to say. Hey, babe, I know you’re a cop and I’m a killer, but can’t we work something out? “It’s now or never, Jack.” I sighed. “Connie, please—” With a flash of her coal black eyes, she whirled around and stalked back to where Iban and Sullivan stood. I followed her,

feeling helpless. “You know,” she said to Iban, “you look awfully familiar.” “They’re in the movie business. This is Iban Cruz.” Connie still didn’t look at me, but her eyes grew round. “The Iban Cruz?” She practically squealed. “I’m a huge fan of your movies! I thought you looked familiar.” She tucked her ticket pad into her back pocket. Somebody was about to get off without so much as a warning. Or maybe just get off. I was thinking about issuing a warning of my own, but that was not an option. I had no claim on her. Not now. Iban gave her his “aw shucks, twern’t nothin’” routine. “We’re in town doing some exterior shots for my next picture. It’s set here in Savannah but most of the filming will be done on a Hollywood sound stage. Sullivan wrote the screenplay.” “Mask of the Vampire.” Sullivan supplied the title with an arched eyebrow. Connie did squeal then. She actually squealed. “Ooh, I just love vampires. They’re so sexy. So…brooding.” What was this? She loved vampires? Now she told me. I glanced at Iban. He grinned and shrugged. “The vampire is one of the most intriguing archetypes in literature and film, ” Sullivan said. “They’re seductive, passionate, dangerous. What woman can resist them?” “What woman could?” Connie agreed breathlessly. I leaned toward Iban and whispered, “Stake me. Right now. I mean it.” Iban’s shoulders shook with soundless laughter. Connie was so wrapped up in Sullivan that Iban and I had clearly faded into the background. “Do I brood?” I asked him. “Not so you’d notice,” he whispered. “Isn’t she your girlfriend? I think I met her at the party. She’s exquisite.” “She was my girlfriend,” I muttered. “Ah. Sorry I asked.” Connie was busy asking Sullivan question after question about film production and he seemed only too happy to answer them. As I watched I thought about what Melaphia had said: Connie was a goddess. And she was a goddess all right. To me, anyway. And much to my annoyance, I could see that Sullivan found her just as divine. They scarcely took their eyes off each other. I was beginning to think I’d rather let her send me up in flames than stomach seeing her with another man. “Hey, I’ve got a great idea,” Sullivan said, turning to Iban. “Why don’t we hire Ms. Jones to do some security work for the production?” “Call me Connie,” she cooed. “She works the night shift,” I blurted out. “Aren’t you going to do the shooting at night, for …atmosphere?” Because the director is a vampire. “I’ve got vacation coming,” Connie stated, finally looking me in the eye. “They could be here for weeks,” I said. “Fine. I have weeks of vacation,” she shot back. She turned her attention back to Sullivan and flashed a flirty smile. “I’m all

yours.” If I’d had a wrench in my hand, I could’ve broken it in two. “Splendid!” Iban announced. “When can you start?” “Tomorrow and the next day are my nights off anyway. I’ll talk to my watch commander at the end of my shift. I might be able to get free as early as the night after that.” “Fantastic,” Sullivan said. “Why don’t you meet me for lunch tomorrow and we’ll discuss terms. Say Il Pasticcio at one?” “It’s a date,” Connie said, beaming. She favored me with one more glance, a decidedly narrow -eyed look, a look that said, Take that, sucker. She waved good-bye and walked away, treating us with the always luscious view of Consuela Jones walking away in her fitted uniform, her handcuffs gleaming on her belt. Oh, mama. Talk about a revolting development. Who knew what kind of cozy daytime get -togethers this guy could cook up? He could propose anything on thinly disguised business reasons. I pictured security planning meetings that turned into romantic picnics by the shore with mint juleps and stolen kisses. I sneered at the guy as he watched her walk away, and my fists flexed at my sides. Iban caught my eye and shrugged apologetically. I sighed. What the hell. At least they’d only be here for a few weeks. But what then? There would always be somebody in the wings. Somebody who could walk beside her in the sun. Somebody who wasn’t me. Stake me.

Seven

William Tilly’s house on Orleans Square smelled old. Not old as in decrepit or decaying, but old as in antique, timeless, well -used. Nothing here from the two Rs of the furniture bible of don’ts—reproduction and restoration. Everything—from the Aubusson and Savonnerie rugs to the Louis XV furniture to the Lafount chandeliers —was original and had been kept in pristine condition by a series of housekeepers. Not unlike Tilly herself, although recently the years had begun to weigh on my old friend. She hated that designation and would remind me tartly that I carried some age as well—far more than she. Tilly warned that if I expected her to remain silent about our eighty -year association then I should refrain from bringing up age in any fashion. So according to her wishes, I just called her Tilly. “Mrs. Granger” was out of the question. She hadn’t used her husband’s name in forty years and I certainly had no good reason to bring it up. She took to Iban right away. During an evening of chitchat and libations, Tilly held court in her favorite wingback chair by the fireplace. It was a small gathering, including the manager of her holdings and his wife, two sets of neighbors, her lawyer, and her doctor. Dinner had been served by the time I arrived, since, in deference to me, she didn ’t want to have to explain why I did not—could not—eat. And defying convention, the parlor was empty of mirrors. Her eccentric habits were well known by born and bred Savannahians, however, and no one would have questioned anything she did. As I regarded her, I recalled the promise she’d extracted from me twenty or so years earlier—that I would take her life at a time of her choosing. Alas, Tilly was not a blood drinker. She was human through and through. A light in my darkness and, these days, a worrisome puzzle of responsibility. Iban, ever the courtier, had laid a kiss on each of her cheeks in European fashion. But Eleanor had kept her distance, and as she clung to me I could see that Tilly disapproved. Oh, not of Eleanor’s questionable past occupation. No. A woman like Tilly could admire any woman who took control of her own destiny. After all, she’d managed to do the same after some dark deeds only I remembered now. I believe Tilly’s reluctance to warm to Eleanor had more to do with me than Eleanor herself. “You have such a lovely home,” Iban said, looking deeply into Tilly’s sharp blue eyes. “In California, where I am from, we are stranded in the idea that new is better. Even our classic designs are built over the originals.” He smiled. “I firmly hold to the idea that many things grow better with age.” From that moment, Tilly’s heart was won. We spent the evening drinking, chatting about the upcoming spring social season and the current favorite chef at the Emerald Grill. It was nearly eleven before Iban’s plans for his next movie became the topic. “Another movie in Savannah? We still haven ’t lived down the last,” Tilly’s lawyer, Charles Yancy, said with a huff of exasperation.

“Oh now Charlie.” Tilly patted his arm. “You can’t keep all of our secrets from the rest of the world.” “What is your movie about?” Charles asked. Iban’s gaze shifted imperceptibly to me before he smiled at the lawyer. “Why, vampires, of course,” he answered. Beside me, Eleanor’s body tightened slightly. I dropped my hand over hers and gave it a squeeze. Stay calm. Iban knows what he’s about. Tilly clapped her hands together with the delight of a child. “Vampires, how wonderful!” “Yes, you could say that it is my speciality. My production company is called After Dark. We’ve made several films in the last few years. “Savannah has the perfect atmosphere and ambiance for a grand tale of the toma sangre. Blood drinkers,” he translated. “Well, I suppose it can’t hurt us more than murder and transvestites,” Charles allowed. Since few of those present were horror aficionados, the discussion veered off into classic movies in general. When Casablanca’s elevation to favorite movie of all time was announced, Tilly beckoned for me to help her into the library on the pretense of looking at an antique table she’d recently acquired. As I stood to hand her the rosewood cane she used to make her current housekeeper happy, I felt Eleanor’s distress. I nodded in her direction. There was no reason for her to worry. Although those at the gathering had been more polite than friendly, that wasn’t so unusual. Eleanor would have accomplished more by smiling and joining the conversation, rather than depending on me to deflect any attention from her. It turned out Tilly was of much the same mind. “She’s trouble,” Tilly said, not one to mince words. As always, she’d protected my secrets by waiting until I closed the library door behind us. “Now, Tilly, you’re just jealous,” I teased. She smiled and touched my face with her hand. “Maybe a little,” she admitted. “If I were only eighty years younger. But then, I had my chance, didn’t I?” She dropped her hand, not giving me time to reply, and made her way to a chair across the room. “Pour me a cup of tea, would you?” I did as she asked. She waited for me to be seated near her and deliver the tea. After raising the cup with a surprisingly steady hand and taking a sip, she continued the conversation. “Oh, she’s fine and all that, even with her…occupation. But not for a lifetime, or ten lifetimes…not forever. You deserve better.” I had no response to her declaration. When it came to women, I’d always been the absolute worst at deciding what I deserved. I suppose Reedrek had decided for me. “I’m happy,” I said. “For the first time in—oh, I don’t know how long.” “I can see that.” She drew herself up straighter. “So I won’t harass you about her. I’ve always wished you well.” She gave me an impish grin. “Now your friend Iban, on the other hand, him I like.” “You’ve been flirting with him all evening.” She gave an exaggerated sigh. “Of course I have. He’s as handsome and dashing as Zorro himself. And that lovely accent. I hope you’ll bring him back one evening soon so the three of us can sit and really talk.”

I noticed she’d left Eleanor out of the equation. “I’ll try. He should be here for a few weeks. We have some business to attend to, and then there’s his movie project.” “Good.” She spent another long minute with her teacup before getting to her next point. “I wanted to ask if you remember your promise to me.” Something near the region of my undead heart sank. “Of course I remember, but please don’t speak of it,” I answered. “I just hope the day never comes.” “An impossibility, dear one,” she said as she stared into the fire. “I’m not looking forward to it. But some things are worse than death, you know?” After another moment she shook off her melancholy and held out the empty teacup to me. “Let me get back to my guests before they think we’re up to something in here. No use ruining both our reputations again, like in the good old days. It’s taken fifty years for people to forget.” I set the cup aside, raised her to her feet, and kissed her lightly on her mouth. Her hands tightened on my arms. “Do you remember the nights you took me to the Cloister on Sea Island and we danced under the stars? Every woman on the property turned positively green with envy.” “I remember that you were the most beautiful woman there,” I answered truthfully. “Oh, we were such a scandal. What fun!” She smiled into my eyes. “Will you dance with me one more time when I call for you?” “It would be my utmost pleasure, dearest.”

“I’m so glad to be out of there,” Eleanor said as we made our way down Tilly’s front walk. “You mean you didn’t enjoy acting ‘normal’?” Iban teased. He slipped an arm around her for a brief embrace. “There was no danger. I would have protected you with my life.” “I wasn’t afraid of them. I just didn’t enjoy the audience with the queen,” Eleanor said, frowning. “Ah,” Iban replied and slid his arm from her shoulders. “That is something you must take up with William, then, although I enjoyed her very much.” “What was that promise she mentioned as we were leaving?” Eleanor asked. I could feel her jealousy like heat from a wellstoked fire. I smiled as Chandler opened the door of the limo for us. When I turned to look back toward the house, I could see Tilly standing in the window, watching us leave. “She made me promise that I would kill her, of course.” Both Eleanor and Iban stood dead still. “What?” Eleanor asked. “Why would she think you would kill her?” Iban asked. “Because I killed her husband.”

Jack

“Why can’t I go to the meeting?” Werm whined, stomping his boot heel on the floor of the plantation’s veranda. I wanted to say, Because you’re a whiny little dipshit, but I didn’t. I was trying to be a good mentor. “We’ve been over this,” I said, watching the New York delegation pile out of a limo in the driveway. I’d heard from William’s man Tarney that he and his crew had unloaded enough luggage, not counting the coffins, out of these people ’s private jet to last a month. They’d demanded to stay separate from everybody else “with a view of the sea,” according to William, so he’d put them up at his other mansion at Isle of Hope. Tonight they were here for introductions and preliminary discussions in advance of the meeting tomorrow. Tobey, Gerard, and Iban were already inside. “You’re lucky I don’t make you park cars,” I told Werm. “But it’d be a great learning experience.” That was a fact, all right. Only trouble was he would learn a lot more than he really wanted to know. Like how deep in doodoo we all were, potentially. He already knew about the big bad vamps in Europe. But as far as he knew the worst thing that could happen to you was eternal death. He didn’t know that Reedrek and his buddies preferred to keep you undead and bleeding. Eternal torture was their style. Why dispatch you to hell when they could keep you around and have a little fun? After the run-in with Reedrek, William had clued me in on what Reedrek had done to some friends of his, little things like cutting off limbs to watch them slowly grow back, or forcing offspring to feed off one another to a point just short of death. William sent some of the white-hatted good guy vamps to save them, but if I’d had to endure what they did I’d probably have begged my rescuers to go ahead and stake me. Knowing about this stuff finally made me understand why William kept me innocent all those years. In some ways, he’d been doing me a favor. I would do Werm the same courtesy and spare him the gory details. For now. “Don’t worry. I’ll fill you in on whatever you need to know about vampire militias and elder councils later,” I said. The delegation from the great state of New York swept by without so much as a nod acknowledging Werm’s and my presence. It had been a long time since William had imported their leader, Lucius Dru, along with a couple of his offspring. Lucius was one of the European blue bloods who’d treated me like the hired help. He acted like he was freakin’ Dracula himself. Old World and old school. Now he looked and dressed like a mafia don. His suit and shoes must have cost thousands. And the others with him were decked out, too. He’d brought a whole entourage with him, including a few human staff members. More compadres, I guessed, or whatever they called them up in Yankeeland. Chandler ushered the group into the foyer as Werm sat on the railing of the veranda. “What do they do for a living to afford those mink coats and expensive suits?” Werm asked. He was still struggling with the concept of making a living as a vampire. I think he imagined that once he became a bloodsucker, his money worries would be magically over. Before I’d threatened to drain him to a bag of dusty bones if he preyed on humans, he’d been planning to stalk people, suck their blood until they passed out, and then make off with their cash. After I’d told him to think real hard about waking up in the city lockup with sunshine pouring through the bars, he’d reconsidered his career choice and was still working part-time at Spencer’s at the mall—night shift, of course. We supplemented his income by paying him for the odd jobs we asked him to do. It was only fair. “They run a bunch of art galleries and trade a lot of high-end paintings and sculpture. The clan lives in a block of apartments in the Dakota.” Melaphia said Lucius had taken a page out of William’s book and gotten his own import business started up—only he brought in priceless works of European art and sculpture through New York Harbor instead of antiques and bloodsuckers. “Wow,” breathed Werm. “That is so cool. I wish I lived in New York City.” I shook my head. I’d heard you could walk down Park Avenue with a live chicken on your head in New York City or sing in the middle of Times Square in your underwear like that Naked Cowboy guy and nobody would spare you a second glance. No wonder Werm thought The City was a cool place. In addition to selling the old masters, Lucius had developed homegrown contemporary painters and offered eternal life to the ones he thought had real staying power. William didn’t approve of making a lot of new vampires. After all, he’d made only three since he came to this continent—me, Werm, and Eleanor—and he was forced to make Werm. But once an imported vamp left

William’s territory and protection, he was more or less a free agent. Thinking about Eleanor gave me an uncomfortable stab of guilt. I’d pushed Olivia’s lie so far back in my mind that I’d almost forgotten. I had to get my unhappy thoughts squared away quick before William picked up on them and started asking questions. I had no intention of ending up twisting like Olivia, so I had to avoid an outright lie at all costs. That meant no questions. Most of the vampires William had imported over the years had formed themselves into a handful of loosely aligned clans spread out all over the country. That’s what this gathering was all about. Representatives of each clan would be present at the meeting. Lucius represented New England and the eastern seaboard, Tobey had the Pacific Northwest, Iban had California and the rest of the West. Gerard, from his home base in Wisconsin, was here on behalf of the Midwest and Canada, and of course we had the South. The Southwest and lower Midwest were represented by the man who was just getting out of a taxi in the circular drive. “Who’s that?” Werm asked. “That must be Travis Rubio,” I told him. “Don’t you know him? I thought you met all the vampires who came through Savannah from Europe.” “I do, but this one isn’t an import. He’s a native.” “Like Tobey,” Werm said, nodding. “You told me Tobey came from some ancient race of indigenous feral vamps who live in caves out in the Rockies. Is this guy one of those?” “No. Not exactly. I really don’t know what his story is, but I’ve always wondered. I think he’s pretty old. He was at the Alamo, but he’d been around a long time before that.” Rubio slung an old-style rucksack over one shoulder and headed toward the house. He was tall, even taller than me, and broadshouldered. His shearling coat covered a checkered flannel shirt and blue jeans. He wore snakeskin boots and a weathered, flatbrimmed cowboy hat with a feather in the band. A long, jet black braid hung halfway down his back, and his facial bone structure—broad cheekbones and hawklike nose—shouted Native American. But not necessarily North American. He didn’t look like any Plains Indian I had ever seen. His face looked more like those you’d see in a National Geographic special about Central or maybe even South America. He climbed the steps and stopped in front of Werm and me. “Travis Rubio?” I asked, extending my hand. “That’s right,” he said, fixing me with his black eyes, which seemed to take in everything at once without judgment. His handshake was firm and warmer than mine. “I’m Jack McShane, and this here’s Lamar Von Werm, but everybody calls him Werm.” Rubio shook Werm’s hand as well and lowered the canvas sack. “William’s told me a lot about you, Jack. It’s good to finally meet you.” “Same here. I hope we get a chance to get acquainted while you’re here. I’m an old soldier myself.” “Ah, a warrior.” His dark eyes seemed to go out of focus for a few seconds. “We could have used one like you to protect our cities of gold.” He shifted back to the present and smiled sadly. “But they are all gone now. The jungle hides their graves. I have outlived my bloodline.” Cities of gold? I thought about that research Werm did for me on the Maya. Maybe Travis knew something that could shed light on Connie’s background. Before I could say anything else, Chandler stood in the doorway and beckoned Travis to come in. Werm didn’t seem as impressed with Travis as he’d been with the New Yorkers. Maybe it was the fashion thing. “Why don’t you run along home,” I told him. “Nothing much is gonna happen here tonight besides kicking back a few glasses of blood, going over the agenda, bylaws, stuff like that. You don ’t have to come back tomorrow since you’re not coming to the meeting. Everything looks like it’s under control.”

Werm got a sly look on his face. “I think I’ll come back and just hang out. You might have some more errands for me.” That was mighty strange. Werm had been complaining about being everybody ’s errand boy for weeks. And now he wanted more. I’d grown to know him well enough to know he was up to something. “How did your voodoo ceremony go, anyway? You never said.” “Oh, it went all right. Better than yours, I’d say.” He smirked. “Don’t be a wise guy. Huey’s working out fine at the garage. Picked right up where he left off.” “When he’s not picking up body parts after they fall off, you mean.” “I told you. He’s fine.” And he was. Except for an incident with the minister’s wife, and he’d seemed to understand when Rennie told him not to sniff the customers anymore, no matter how tasty they looked. Werm was trying to change the subject and I figured there was a reason for that. And there must have been a reason he wanted to hang around the meeting even when he wasn ’t invited. “That reminds me,” I said. “There is an errand you can do for me.” Even though he’d just volunteered, Werm looked put out. I ignored him. “I want you to go over to the main house and get this special elixir from Mel. She will, ah, administer it to you. It has some properties what will give you extra protection from these strange vamps, should they turn out to be not as trustworthy as William thinks they are. Oh, and it ’s top secret, so don’t tell anybody about it.” “Okay,” Werm said, perking up a little and hopping down from the porch railing. As he made his way out to his beat-up Nissan parked in the infield of the circular drive, I took my flip phone off the clip on my belt and dialed the number at the main house. Mel answered as Werm was driving away. “Mel. Listen, Werm’s on his way over there. Here’s what I want you to do…”

William “I’d like to welcome each of you back to my home and to the largest gathering of North American…sanguinarians in history.” I reached for Eleanor’s hand and pulled her closer. “And I’d like to introduce you to my—to Eleanor.” As the men nodded their greetings I turned to watch Eleanor’s reaction. She looked particularly fetching tonight in an off-theshoulder, form-fitting top made from a shimmering black material. The kind of shimmer that would make every man in the room, human or vampire, want to touch it. “Good evening. Before you begin your business, I want you to know we’ve set up a suite in the Royal downtown for your use after the meeting. If there is…anything you need,” she offered, “I’ll be more than happy to make those arrangements.” Blood, sex, pain. Her thoughts, loud and clear to me, sent a whisper of desire along my skin. She who must be obeyed was back in her element: in charge. I remembered well the nights at her house on River Street and the delights she’d arranged for my pleasure. It was patently obvious I needed to get Eleanor’s house rebuilt as soon as possible, for her business and for our pleasure. I enjoyed my body’s reaction for a few seconds before leading her to a chair near Iban. “I’ve dismissed all the human staff. Shall we begin, gentlemen?” The pleasantries had been observed, drinks served, old friendships renewed. Now it was time to get down to business. “We have several things to discuss. We can only assume that Reedrek’s unsuccessful mission to regain control of me, or, failing that, to kill me and raid my kin, has opened the door to others who may want to recover offspring. Each of you has a blood

connection left behind that you wish to avoid at all costs. I’ve come to the conclusion that we can no longer depend on secrecy.” I looked at the serious faces around the room. “We must form an alliance, a vigilant and possibly very public defense. After all, the humans are at risk as well. There’s no estimating the damage a few of the old sires could do. And we don’t know how many of the sires may have joined together.” A distant muffled howl echoed in my mind. So Reedrek wanted to add his malicious two cents. Too damned bad. Shut up, old man, I parried, blocking his rage from my mind. It looked as if I’d need to deal with him in a permanent way before any of the old sires set foot in the New World. They would hear him if they were related by blood, and I couldn ’t allow him to give anything away. I pushed on with the meeting. “They cannot think for one second we’re afraid. If they believe we are frightened, they will descend on us fang and claw.” There were several slow nods around the room. “The next thing we must do is to organize our regions using offspring and human companions—any network of spies and helpers to watch the coastline. I know it will be difficult to cover every harbor or airport, but we must do what we can. Forewarned is forearmed. I propose we use the Bloody Gentry site to post information and warnings. You ’re all familiar with hiding real information inside Internet chatter.” I turned to Jack. “Jack has good…people skills, you might say. Later in the meeting I’ll have him talk about a few of his methods for dealing with human loyalty. Most of you have humans you use for different purposes, but we’ll need more than a few swans. The humans we choose must have some backbone and must have a reason to help us.” “Do you think the threat is serious enough that we should shut down our business interests?” Iban asked. “I’m not shutting down anything,” Lucius announced. “I have two major openings next month.” His staff nodded in agreement. They were loyal to a fault, but they couldn’t possibly know what kind of horrors the old sires could deliver to their doorstep. Lucius knew exceedingly well, but he took his business interests very seriously. “After what you—what each of you suffered at the hands of your sires,” I went on, “I don’t think any can question the logic of keeping a low profile. If I were you, I would make yourselves and those closest to you hard to find. You could remain in your chosen city but perhaps move to a new home location, until we see what kind of threat we’re facing. One thing we can be certain of: They’ll want more from us than a quick kill.” “What about you? Will you run and hide?” Lucius asked. He had me there. I wasn’t going anywhere. “My sire has already made his bid to own my soul again. And he failed.” My gaze drifted to Eleanor before I continued, “Since Savannah has been exposed as my home, I feel a duty to protect it. So I’ll stay here. At least I can give warning to the rest of you.” “And I’ll be here for a few weeks yet,” Iban added. “We can plan a defense of the city.” “Thank you, old friend.” I moved on to the next point. “Now, in general terms what have your clans done so far? Gerard?” Gerard stood. Paler than the rest of us from years of working underground, he still cut an impressive figure. Tall, with a mane of gray-streaked hair that needed a trim, and wearing his ever -present reading glasses, he looked like a slightly absentminded academic. But there was nothing absent in his fine scientific mind. “As some of you know, our group in the Great Lakes region is rather specialized. We ’ve spent most of our time researching vampiric bloodlines and genetic sequences. We tend to be out of the public scrutiny, hidden in our underground labs. I don’t worry about our own safety because of our low profile. We are scientists, not soldiers. “I have to confess, if any of us are in danger it would be me. Maulore, my sire, would have me chained in the deepest part of his hellish chateau in the name of research were he to capture me. I’m afraid he was the inspiration for the fictional Dr. Moreau and enjoys a certain fascination with shapeshifters. So much so that he began experiments that combined genetic material to form new species—his own horrible versions. To illustrate his twisted mind, you only have to imagine the genetically spliced offspring of a man and a pig, or worse, a child and a dog.” He shuddered and closed his eyes. He reached into a breast pocket and removed a slim stainless-steel case. He pressed a button and the case opened to reveal a wickedly sharp surgical knife. “I have the means to

end my existence, rather than be taken. My kin have their own escape plans. We are ready in that respect. “We also have a small group of humans loyal to us, most of them those whose families we ’ve helped with genetic afflictions. I believe they’ll be willing to repay our assistance by watching our backs. As far as the border and our Canadian counterparts, I have been assured they’ll follow any protocol for defense we formulate in this meeting.” “Thank you, Gerard.” I wanted to ask if his group of researchers had uncovered how our voodoo blood had mutated our vampire constitutions. But that was a conversation to be held in private. “Tobias?” Tobey stood, took the floor, and spoke about his blood kin. “My ancestors are feral, spread across the open country in the Northwest. We have very little contact with one another. But I have humans I trust in my racing crew and a few kindred who have taken up residence. That makes it a little easier for us to keep a lookout in our part of the country. Except for Calgary, most of the major airports and big cities are near the coast, so we can concentrate our volunteers there.” He rested his hands on his hips. “And as far as my racing goes, this is the off season anyway. I ’ll stay mobile, keep my truck on the road. I’ve got plenty of time to organize, recruit, and generally kick butt if necessary.” “Excellent. Does anyone have any questions for Tobias?” Jack raised his hand. “Tobe, how’re you going to keep a low profile with your racing logo plastered all over that rig?” “You’re right, Jacko. Can you get some of your body and paint guys to give it a plain black paint job?” “You got it.” “Anyone else?” I asked. When no one else spoke I moved on. “Lucius?” “What about Iban?” Lucius asked. “He should speak before me.” I nearly smiled. I knew Lucius. He would act demure when in reality he wanted to be the last and most important person on any agenda. Lucius had never been an opening act. Vampires and their egos. “I thought Iban would speak last and lead us into the satellite conference he’s set up with our representative in England.” “I see,” Lucius snapped. “No matter,” Iban cut in with a wave of his hand. “I would only add that Tobey and I are in good communication. Southern California will be well guarded. Our greatest threat, as always, is the Mexican border. There are smugglers and tunnels, plenty of dark places. And there’s a surplus of food, since in any one night there are thousands of people who will do anything to cross the border.” He gazed directly into my eyes. “My sire will not come to torture me again; he will come to destroy me. He swore he would have my blood the very night I escaped.” “Wow, what did you do to deserve that?” Jack asked. Iban glanced in Jack’s direction. “Why, I seduced his mate, of course,” he said matter-of-factly. “She is the one who freed me.” “Oh—” Jack said, and for some ridiculous reason looked at Eleanor. Catching himself, he raised two hands and nodded to me in a pantomime of hands-off. “Travis? Thank you for coming.” Travis Rubio stood but remained silent for a long moment, waiting with the patience of a shaman for the attention of his audience. When all eyes were trained on him, he spoke. “As some of you know—” He looked in my direction. “—I travel alone. I have no clan or human helpers, as you call them. I follow the food and the seasons, trekking from Mexico up through the Big Bend, over

into Nebraska, Wyoming, New Mexico, and Arizona. It’s a lot of empty territory—empty of people or easy places to hide from the sun. I have learned to adapt, but it’s taken hundreds of years. Because of the difficulties, I doubt any attack would come from that direction. Also, there is no reason to fear my sire. He perished before this part of the world had a name.” He crossed his arms. “I’ll do my part to protect us. There are people familiar with me who would pass along news if I asked.” With a nod, he sat back down. “Excellent. Now, Lucius, are you ready to grace us with your wisdom?” Instead of sniping back at me, Lucius smiled and pushed gracefully to his feet. If a white tiger could wear a designer suit, he might be mistaken for Lucius’s brother. Dangerous, glorious, and so very pretty. He struck a poet’s languorous pose, cleared his throat and seized the room with his words. “I think we should create offspring and train them as our own personal assassins.” He inspected the heavy gold ring on his right hand. “Then we should send them back to the Old World to kill all the sires. If the old bastards are dead, they can’t harm anyone.” “Esclavo…” Iban whispered, then shot to his feet. “I will have nothing to do with the making of slaves.” He made a show of spitting his disgust. “When you had your turn at being a slave, did you enjoy serving your master, Lucius?” Lucius didn’t seem perturbed by Iban’s challenge. “Well, this would be different, wouldn’t it? They’d have free will; they’d simply have a job to do. And of course, they’d be well paid.” “And how do you suppose they would stand the slimmest chance of performing this job? Are they to walk up with a stake and say good afternoon, I’m here to kill you?” “Of course not,” Lucius answered. I felt the need to interrupt. “Gentlemen, please. Lucius, please stay on point. We’re discussing defenses. Iban, take your seat and let him finish.” Lucius frowned. “I was under the impression that the purpose of this meeting was to resolve the problem.” “The immediate problem is defense. Then we can plan for the inevitable.” “The inevitable being…?” “The killing.” Only momentarily distracted, Lucius went on to describe his connections at New York Harbor. The likeliest entry through the eastern seaboard would be in a container delivered by ship. Having no way to search each one, he had people collecting the way bills for the companies represented. It was a good place to start if one wanted to find a false front for illegal activities. And the sires would definitely be considered illegal by anyone’s estimation. “All right. Thank you, Lucius. Please be seated. Iban? Are you ready for our presentation?” Iban glanced at his watch. “We have five minutes before the satellite connection will begin. Jack, if you please, would you dim the lights?” As Jack heeded Iban’s request, I noticed him checking behind the sofa and patting the curtains. Odd behavior even for Jack. If Melaphia were present she’d probably ask him if he’d lost his marbles. But she was home with Reyha and Deylaud, leaving the vampires to conspire amongst ourselves. A short time later, after a few keystrokes on a computer, Olivia’s electronic image appeared in the center of the room. Everyone in the room gasped—the perfect reaction from beings who were used to being invisible to cameras and mirrors. This new holographic technology was cutting edge, invented and paid for by vampires, no doubt. “I’ll be damned,” Jack muttered, but he didn’t sound especially happy about seeing his former lover. Then again, lover might not

be the right word. More like sparring partner. I felt a flurry of distress, like a cloud passing between Jack and myself, as I greeted Olivia. “It’s good to see you again, Olivia,” I said. “I’m honored to be here.” Now that was interesting. She looked down demurely rather than meeting my gaze when she spoke. Perhaps she was overwhelmed by the responsibility of her position as organizer and spy. I glanced in Jack ’s direction to see his reaction. He was studying his boots and all I could glean from his thoughts was a loud hum.

Jack I saw William’s eyes narrow as I tried to remember the infield fly rule. He knew I was hiding something. How did you figure slugging percentage? Aw, hell. How did people use baseball to get their mind off …things, anyway? It wasn’t working. He was going to read me for sure if I couldn’t get ahold of myself. At least I had Werm to think about. He was around here somewhere. I could smell him. I edged toward the windows and slapped at the velvet maroon curtain. A severe -looking dude from Lucius’s entourage gave me a dirty look. “House fly,” I whispered. “A whopper, too. Got him.” Maggot, more like. Lucius’s aide blinked once behind narrow, black-rimmed glasses and returned his attention to the official goings-on. The potion I had Werm get from Melaphia was really only loud perfume. I told her to douse him with the cheapest stuff she had, do a little “stickum” chant, then tell him she was “anointing” him with a special elixir to give him protection from harm. It was actually to let me know if he’d perfected his disappearing act enough to sneak into the meeting unseen. Vampires each have their own unique smell just like everybody else, but there were so many vamps in the room it would have been impossible for me to identify Werm if he took pains to keep clear of me. But there was no mistaking that perfume. I remembered it well. Jungle Gardenia, the same as Mel’s mother used to wear. When I’d first smelled it, I nearly got choked up remembering her. Then I realized what was happening. Werm had managed to turn himself invisible. But I couldn ’t flush him out without drawing more attention to myself, so I’d just have to bide my time. Olivia, about one-third life-size, was right there in front of God and all us vampires. Only not. How the hell was I going to keep William from reading my thoughts? William wasn’t Olivia’s sire, but he was the most powerful master vamp in her bloodline and he ought to be able to read her like a book if she wasn’t blocking him as hard as I was. Also in her favor was that she wasn’t really here. I wondered if psychic vampire mind reading worked long-distance. I could pick up on her vibe from the hologram alone. I wondered what William thought of her skittishness. He probably assumed it was just stage fright. She was looking a mite nervous, all right. Either that or there was some technical difficulty making the hologram shake. The last time I’d talked to her, she’d been plenty up-tight about lying to a master vampire, as well she should be. It would be interesting to see how she handled her bit of the presentation. William was introducing Olivia and some of the dignitaries. Someone complimented Iban on the success of the hologram gizmo. He smiled modestly and said, “I can’t take the credit, I’m afraid, even though I would love to. My associate, Sullivan, was instrumental in spinning off from my production company a special effects division to rival Lucas ’s Industrial Light and Magic. It was one of his engineers who developed the technology to address some of our special needs, vis-à-vis imaging.” That was some fancy talk for the fact that we vampires didn ’t cast a reflection and couldn’t be seen in a photograph. Last I heard, digital imagery couldn’t capture us any more than old-fashioned photography could. Goody for Sullivan. I felt my jaw tense just with the desire to bite him. I wondered how his lunch with Connie had gone. Lunch. What a concept. I was just getting to my best beauty sleep when humans were going to lunch. I pictured them in the outdoor cafés, strolling along the Riverwalk in the sun, eating taffy from River Street Sweets and lining up for paddleboat rides. “This thing is two-way, too, right?” Tobey asked. “Olivia can see our shadowlike forms on a computer monitor via that webcam mounted right over there, ” Iban explained,

pointing to a small camera he had mounted on the mantel right across from me. “That’s no ordinary camera, though. It’s the same kind of device we have focused on her in England.” Olivia continued her presentation. “As many of you know, I’ve long been involved in documenting certain aspects of our race— primarily the genealogy of female vampires but also to some extent the migration of various clans of blood drinkers across Europe. Alger before me had built a large and loyal coven in and around London, along with a large group of trusted humans. Using our knowledge of the city’s nooks and crannies, as well as an efficient communications network, we were able to live relatively free from the harassment of the old sires, who seemed to prefer to haunt the countryside. “When I returned to England after Alger was killed, we shifted our focus to identifying as many of the dark lords as possible, figuring out where their clans are located, and counting their numbers. Alger had already begun this work for his own reasons, and so we had a starting point for my own research. It seems Alger had a premonition of his death that he never shared with me. I found out too late, when I began to examine his papers. He thought the investigative work he was doing would help those of us who were left behind to survive, and that his passage to America would be his salvation.” Olivia looked down momentarily, trying to control the sorrow I knew she felt each time she talked about Alger. Her sire had been murdered by Reedrek on his way to Savannah, a senseless act of evil that had led directly to this day and this meeting. Olivia got herself under control and went on. “In the past few weeks we have fanned out across Europe. Some of the more intrepid among us even volunteered to infiltrate the evil clans, pretending to have been ousted from London. The deadline for returning with any information was three days ago, just enough time for me to organize their findings to present to this assembly.” Here, Olivia’s composure faltered again. Her mouth quivered, but she lifted her chin and continued. “Only a few returned. One of our spies managed to make her way back home, but has not spoken since and cannot sleep in the day or night. She begs for death.” Olivia took a deep breath and said, “The others did not return at all.” A few moments of silence passed before Gerard asked, “The one who cannot speak or sleep—can she feed?” “Oh,” Olivia replied, “she feeds.” A look of horror registered on her face that made my blood run colder. Holy crap. What did that mean? I glanced at William, who looked all steely around the eyes. He didn’t like what he was hearing either. “So did you get no information at all on the clans?” he asked. “And have you notified the Abductors of our losses?” “No on both counts. It’s as though they disappeared off the face of the earth. And sending in the Abductors too soon will expose our plans. “The spies who came back safely gathered what knowledge each clan had of the others, or at least what they were prepared to speak of to a newcomer. So some of this information is secondhand and a bit dated, but I suppose it’s better than nothing.” “Tell me something, Liv,” Tobey said. “Before you start in on all the heavy stuff, is there any good news in all of this?” Olivia pondered the question for a moment. “The only thing we have going for us is the fact that the clans of the old lords are not as organized as we are, and the lords themselves still don’t get along very well. There are loose affiliations, of course. Most clans can claim kin with most other clans, and bonds of communication are sometimes still maintained, if sporadically. But, there ’s no movement to assault us en masse, necessarily.” Olivia herself didn’t seem to go all smiley with this news, though. She remained as somber as ever. “That is, unless they’re canny enough to let our spies escape with deliberately false information.” “Always a possibility,” William observed. “If that’s the good news, then what’s the bad news?” I asked. “The bad news is, there is at least one clan whose numbers are so large and whose members are so vicious, that it could be a formidable opponent on its own, without having to band together with any other clans.”

Yeah. That was pretty bad, all right. Before she launched into a more detailed report on that clan and the others, Lucius interrupted her with some question about who her spies were and how they penetrated the other clans. I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. A huge sideboard at the back of the banquet hall was covered with large decanters of blood, some iced down in crystal bowls, others kept warm in chafing dishes with golden ladles. Alongside was the usual spread of the finest domestic and imported liquors. I spied one of the decanters moving out of an ice bucket on its own. It hovered and tipped long enough to pour a tumbler of blood, and then seated itself right back where it had come from. I quietly left the circle of vamps around the hologram. While the others were focused on Olivia’s grave news, I sauntered as casually as I could back to the sideboard like I was going to pour myself a cocktail. When the tumbler went up from the surface of the wood, just as I expected it would, I grabbed it out of the air and slapped Werm hard on the back of his invisible head, Three Stooges style. Then I grabbed him by the jacket collar and, angling my body to hide what I was doing as best I could, dragged him out the door into the hallway between the banquet hall and the kitchen. “What’s the matter with you?” I demanded. Werm struggled to regain his footing as he started to take shape again. “Ow,” he said, rubbing his head. “Is that all you can say for yourself? Ow?” I drained the glass and slammed it down on a service cart. Werm smoothed the front of his black T-shirt where I’d twisted the material. “Sorry. I just thought I was…better off knowing than not knowing. Now, after what I’ve heard, I’m not so sure.” I sighed, almost feeling sorry for him and what he’d gotten himself into. “Yeah. I get your meaning,” I said. He looked pitiful and scared. More pitiful and scared than usual, that is. I was developing a soft spot for this weird kid, even though I ought to be kicking his ass. “That invisibility thing is pretty good. Have you had to practice hard?” He looked up finally. “Uh-huh, it was pretty hard at first but I think I’ve got it down. I can control it pretty good.” “Good. That could come in a mite handy one day. But let me tell you something: If I ever catch you using that skill to spy on me and get in my business, I’m going to use my ass-kicking skill to put a hurt on you. A hurt that’ll make you want to go to the beach at high noon. Do you understand me, boy?” “Yes, Jack…sir.” “Good.” I slapped him on the back hard enough to make his earrings clank together. “Now you run along. We’ll talk tomorrow.” Werm headed for the door, shuffling his boots forlornly. When he’d almost reached the kitchen door he turned back. “Are we going to survive, Jack?” His pale blue eyes were wider than usual. “Hell, yeah,” I said. “You bet your skinny ass we are.” He straightened his shoulders and smiled a little before he went through the door. Why was it, I wondered, that I didn’t feel any better? When I took my seat in the circle again, Lucius was still grilling Olivia on her methods. He looked to me like one of those guys who resented any woman who knew more than he did. “That’s enough, Lucius,” William warned him. “Olivia still has a lot of information to impart. I vouch for her trustworthiness.” Lucius didn’t look happy, but he shut up, using one manicured hand to slick back his already slicked back hair. “Tell us about this vicious clan,” William said. Olivia took another deep breath. “They’re ancient, powerful, and mysterious. The vampires in the other clans speak of them in

hushed whispers. And their numbers are reported to be in the scores.” William looked grave. “Where are they?” “Southern Russia, near the Black Sea,” Olivia said, looking right at me, although she couldn’t have seen me. Oh, lord. That had to be Hugo’s clan, and Olivia wanted me to know it. When we talked the day she told me about Diana, she had said she wouldn’t mention Hugo’s clan until she knew more. Evidently, she knew more now. She was struggling with how she could report the news without thinking about Diana, and she was using eye contact with me to do it. I was tempted to go get another drink. A really big drink. “You said his clan had the strength in numbers to attack us without help from other clans. Is there any indication they intend to do so?” William asked. “Not that we found,” Olivia said. “Then again, two of our members disappeared in that area.” “If they did attack, how would they get here? Water or air?” Iban asked. “No idea,” Olivia said, shaking her head. “We had one short report from one of our spies, but nothing since.” “You’re just a font of useful information, aren’t you?” Lucius asked. I was ready to call the guy out when Travis spoke again. “It seems to me the young lady has done a remarkable job of gathering information in such a short time. Her group has been bold and risked much and paid a high price. I don’t see that you have done as much. I do not believe that she deserves our scorn. If you disagree, perhaps we could discuss it further outside.” Lucius settled back in his seat, his complexion reddening like a thermometer with the temperature rising. This was not a guy used to being told to shut the freak up. But he’d been told just that twice in the last hour. Far as I was concerned, it couldn’t happen to a nicer vamp. “I’m sorry I don’t know more,” Olivia said. And then William let me—and Olivia—hear one of his own thoughts loud and clear. But you do know more, Olivia, as we both know. I can’t imagine why you are keeping information from me, but I suggest that you tell me all. And soon.

William I used my will to search Olivia’s mind. Unfortunately, the hologram technology, despite its ability to transmit a physical image, was not as effective on nonphysical phenomena. Olivia’s image sputtered, and she looked for all the world as if she’d swallowed a cannon ball. Struggling to speak, she only nodded. “Who is the leader of this formidable clan?” I asked insistently. “If he’s so old and powerful, I should know him.” “They’re led by a potent master vampire of Reedrek’s bloodline. In fact, Reedrek was his sire. He’s considerably older than any of us assembled here.” Reedrek. Not a good development for me and mine. They’d certainly come for him. And when they did, they would have revenge on their minds. “His name?” I asked in growing temper. Why was Olivia, once so eager to collect information, being so obtuse? “Hugo,” she said, nearly in a whisper. I felt like I should lean closer to hear but just then a great sense of fear—along with Reedrek’s accompanying wave of triumph— flowed over me, nearly smothering the equally strong rush of fear from Olivia. In the past she ’d been recklessly brave, but in this

instance, she looked truly afraid. Whatever she’d learned had cowed her. In the dark of his tomb, Reedrek had mentioned someone named Hugo. And I’d laughed in his ugly, reeking, doomed face. But I had no memory of ever meeting an offspring by that name. In vampire kinship, he would be my brother. Why hadn ’t Reedrek brought him along when he’d attacked Alger and then me? It was a tantalizing question that I needed to ponder. “Is there anything further, Olivia? Anything of use to us in this meeting?” Olivia made a strangled sound, which was immediately followed by a crash in the back of the room. I whirled in that direction to find Jack, sheepishly picking up pieces of a lamp that had somehow toppled to the floor near him. “Sorry about that,” he said, shrugging. “Wasn’t watching where I was going.” Allowing Jack to feel my displeasure at the interruption, I turned back to Olivia just as her image faded out. “I’ll keep you posted,” she said. Then she was gone.

Eight

William Everyone began speaking at once. It took a good ten minutes to focus their attention again. “This new information changes everything. We must consider a defense of Savannah first,” Iban said. The others, one by one, agreed except for Lucius. “Where are you keeping this sire of yours—Reedrek?” he asked. “In a safe place—one from which there is no escape.” “Why didn’t you have him killed outright?” Why hadn’t I? Had I gone soft, as Reedrek had accused? I’d like to think I’d kept the old inveterate liar alive for information. But it was more likely that I was my sire’s tainted offspring and had wanted to pay him back with a small dose of torture for the pain he’d caused, for what he’d done to Diana. As Jack might say, that was my story and I’d stick to it. “I kept the bloody bastard alive to repay some of the old debts he owes me and mine.” “Why don’t you bring him here so we can question him?” Lucius suggested. “He must know something of this Hugo.” Jack snorted and shook his head. “He’s buried so far under that we’d have to get a deep-core oil drill to reach him. If we could drill through granite, that is.” I frowned Jack into silence. No use being too specific. “Whatever answers came out of Reedrek’s mouth would just be lies. He’s so twisted and blackhearted he’d do anything to hurt us.” Tobey whistled through his teeth. “And this Hugo is worse than that?” “It sounds that way,” I said, but my thoughts had shifted elsewhere. Surely the Abductors must know of Hugo and his clan. I needed to get back to my office and to my computer. “Right now, I’ll turn the meeting over to Jack so he can discuss using human resources as a defense strategy. We mustn’t make hasty decisions. It’s almost dawn in England and I intend to make more inquiries before first light. We’ll reconvene here tomorrow night, one hour after sunset, and put all our ideas on the discussion table.” Before leaving, I beckoned to Eleanor. “After Jack finishes, I leave them in your capable hands.” She rested one of those hands against my chest, over my unbeating heart. “And I’ll keep them as busy as they want to be. I only wish my house was finished and ready.” “I do too, love. Lucius can be such an ass at times—” Eleanor touched my lips with her fingers and smiled. “Not to worry, I interviewed his staff. Remember, I’ve been in the business

of pleasure for a long time…yours included. I have several things lined up to keep him happy whether he admits it later or not. Some of my best customers have the loudest complaints.” She removed her fingers and gave me a soft kiss. “Will you meet us at the suite? I’m sure we can find something you might be interested in, too.” The outright challenge in her eyes titillated my mind and body, but I had other things to accomplish before dawn. “I’m positive that would be the case, sweet. But I’ll have to wait.” She feigned a pout before glancing beyond my shoulder to the roomful of men. Vampires or not, she was in her element. I could see she couldn’t wait to begin. “I leave you to it, then,” I said. Iban caught me as I moved to the door. “Do you mind some company?” “No, not at all. But aren’t you interested in a bit of recreation?” I knew Iban already had a cadre of humans around him. He didn’t need Jack’s humans-are-our-friends lecture. Iban shook his head. “I guess I didn’t sleep as well on this trip to the East Coast. Too many preparations, what with the movie and this meeting. I feel a bit, how would you say? Stretched.” He glanced back into the room. “I won’t be getting any rest around here tonight. You’ve certainly stirred everyone up.” “That was my intent.” I opened the door and allowed him to proceed with me onto the veranda. “It’ll be quieter at my place in town. You can put your feet up while I investigate.”

Once at home on Houghton Square, I left Iban in the care of Reyha and Deylaud, in front of the fire with a good supply of blood at hand. As I left the room for my office, Deylaud began reciting Miguel Cervantes from memory. Downstairs I switched on the power in my office and the computers whirred to life. The technology of the new millennium never ceases to amaze, even as it sometimes infuriates. My former life as a mortal in the sixteenth century was as different from my life now as from that of one of the fabled Martians modern humans seemed to fear. A few Martians could not compare to hordes of killer vampires who looked very much like humans and could hide like rats underground. If the old sires mounted a war, the naïveté of the human population would be the first casualty. Their childhood fears of things that go bump in the night would be a reality. Our human fears five hundred years ago were of a different sort and somewhat more personal. We feared God and the Church, crop failure and witchcraft. And most of all, a return of the plague. Now, five hundred years later, on this crowded planet there were global worries: famines, wars, tsunamis, and random bombs without specific targets. And the Internet, apart from being a wondrous tool, could foment revolution or, as in the case of bloodygentry.com, hide a different agenda. My buddy list revealed two of the Abductors who frequented the Presumed Undead chat room. A benign pastime: watching humans debate whether the undead walked among them. I signed on and dropped in on a discussion of whether some celebrities named Keith Richards and Dick Clark were covering up the fact that neither was often seen in public during the day. I had no opinion on either. The entire rock and roll phenomenon has barely been around for half a century; I am only just getting used to motorcars, and they at least have reached their centennial. Now, if someone could come up with proof that this Keith fellow had composed one of Beethoven’s sonatas, that would be worth discussing. I’m interested in the Ukraine. Any Russians here? Russians? What’s that got to do with rock? one of the pro-Keith debaters replied.

An opposing voice chimed in, Hey man, you’re right. The Beatles—“Back in the USSR.” John Lennon—definitely undead. Half of the Beatles are dead, you moron. How could Lennon be undead and get shot by Chapman? Maybe he didn’t get shot, maybe he got staked!!!!!!!!!! Maybe he faked his own death and now he’s writing music for Green Day or—I’ve got it—Coldplay. Get it? What about this—? HE DOESN’T EVEN LOOK LIKE CHRIS MARTIN! Besides, he’s a vegetarian. Lennon wouldn’t go back to England. There’s a rule like in Highlander. They have to go to another country. Hey, are you saying he went to Russia, dude? This was getting me nowhere. I was about to apologize for the interruption and leave when someone I recognized answered. I have friends in Russia. Am looking for family member—name of Hugo. What band does he play for? the Keith fan asked. He’s in that country band Bering Strait. I swear, no way those guys are REAL RUSSIANS. I ignored the music critics and waited. The pop-up for an instant message beeped. Name rings a bell. I’ll have to get back to you, my contact said. Hello? Are you guys here to talk, or what? The participants in the chat room had noticed our absence from their conversation. I imagine that would be “or what.” Have a nice evening. I signed out of the chat room and waited for another instant message. It didn’t take long. We’ve only managed to retrieve one offspring from Hugo’s influence. And the wretched creature is still damaged. We know a little and have guessed at more. Some very powerful vamps—especially the females. Have you lost someone? No. We have reason to believe Hugo is interested in us. Interested as in expansion? More like annihilation. Not good. Not good at all. Did the one you recovered have anything which belonged to H or any in his family? Something you could send me to track him? No. She was naked—hung by the neck with tendons they ripped from her own legs. I see. And I did see. The old sires were known for their thorough methods of torture, compiled over centuries of watching humanity and eons of experimenting on one another. When one is unable to die, all things painful are possible. The main variable is how well or quickly one can heal and the process can start over again. If you can, I need to know exactly where he is and how he travels. Also, any connections he had with my sire, Reedrek.

Will do our best. Olivia says hello. Tell her I’m waiting to hear from her. She’ll know what I mean. I deleted the record of the conversation. While I waited for more news, I decided to talk to Reedrek myself. Perhaps he’d be a little more malleable after being abandoned in the dark. An unlikely hope but… I retrieved the bone box and proceeded outside to sit by the reflecting pool. The air was quite cool and the trees reflected in the dark water were bare of leaves. Most humans, save for the ones up to no good, would be snug in their winter beds. For me, the cool, crisp air was a pleasant sensation although I did miss the warmth of high summer nights when the heat radiated back from the rock and brick as though the sun still rode high in the sky. It was the closest I could ever get to daylight. But at the moment I needed darkness. I tossed the shells and went in search of my sire. I smelled him before I saw him. Trapped in his own private preview of hell, he lay huddled against one side of his coffin. Several small, spiny creatures were chewing furiously on his feet and ankles, growling in their greed. He didn ’t seem to notice except to occasionally twitch and kick them away. They returned immediately, faces smeared with dark blood. This illusion of hell could be quite convincing. Perhaps even real to those alive in it. “Good evening, old man.” The vacancy evaporated from Reedrek’s eyes and he peered into the gloom until he found me in my faint glow. “You’ll excuse me if I don’t get up,” he said with a grimace that might have been a sneer if he’d had the energy. “Are you tired of this game yet?” I asked. He made a huffing sort of laugh. “Me, tired? No, things are just getting interesting.” He angled his head back and let out a howling wail. Other wails answered him from the close darkness. He wailed again. This was getting us nowhere. I raised a glowing hand and pointed toward the demons. “Back in your hole,” I ordered. Before they could even register surprise, they disappeared. In a few seconds I floated over my sire in the empty silence, face-toface. We were so close, we seemed to be breathing the same air. The smell was even worse here. “Tell me about Hugo.” His mouth worked; he was obviously deciding what to say and what to keep silent about. I didn’t give him time to conjure more lies. “I know he’s your offspring and my kin.” “Yesssss,” he hissed. “Your brother, of a sort.” A wheezing laugh followed. “So much more obliging than you. None of those milksop sensibilities about human pain and death.” His gaze sharpened. “He especially liked to make females and to watch them suffer. It didn’t matter if they died in the making; the suffering was the wine of his debauchery. “Once he took three young sisters in one night. He bled them, killed them, then locked them together in a dungeon with a viewing port. As they were making, they shrieked and tore at one another like rabid dogs.” Reedrek sighed in the ecstasy of remembering, as though he’d been there. “Then, when it came time to mate them, he took all at once, forcing them on one another as well. By the end of it, he’d killed one with the pounding of his cock.” He tsked. “Such a small and fragile little thing she was—meant for the nunnery, no doubt.”

I had not come here to help Reedrek revisit his joyful past. “If you love Hugo so much, why didn’t you bring him across the ocean with you? Why not let him share in the triumph of bringing me to heel? Or perhaps he could have gotten the task done.” He held his silence for a few seconds. “He had his own business to attend to. But mark my words, he will come.” “For you? Does he love you so well then?” Reedrek’s leathery face tightened. “Yessss, he loves me well. But he loves another even more.” “And who might that be?” “Diana.” He laughed this time until a coughing fit took him. When he recovered, he rasped, “Your Diana. I gave her to him and his cock the night I made you.” I’d been prepared for this. After all, he’d said the same the morning I set out in a boat to kill us both. Even so, I could feel my fury doubling. I purposely kept my voice level, as one might scold a child. “We both know that’s a lie. I saw her buried. I sent someone to follow her lineage. He may have someone named Diana but she is not my Diana.” That seemed to surprise him into silence again. He swallowed several times, clearly hungering for blood or even water in his dry tomb. “And did the one you sent come back alive to tell you lies?” he asked. I was tired of bandying words. “How will Hugo come? How does he travel?” “He rides a wild mare and her name is Diana,” he said in a singsong voice. “Diana, Diana, humping your lovely Diana…” I couldn’t stand for one more second his filthy mouth forming her name. Fury fueled by my voodoo blood flashed through me, bringing a shocking wave of power. “Silence!” I shouted like a thundering curse. The choking odor of burnt blood seared my lungs. I stared down at my sire in shock. He had turned to stone.

Jack The next night I got to the plantation early, hoping to have a talk with Travis Rubio about his being a warrior for the “cities of gold.” Could he possibly be old enough to have fought the conquistadores? The Web pages Werm had printed out for me about the Maya had left me with more questions than answers. Even if Rubio wasn’t old enough to have been around before the Maya died out, if he fought Cortés, he wasn’t far behind. I wanted to pick his brain for any knowledge he had that might help shed light on Connie’s origins. Melaphia had been closemouthed about her dawn ritual with Connie. She wouldn’t tell me if they’d learned anything new, but she still seemed convinced she was on the right track with the Mayan goddess thing. She told me only that Connie was continuing to see her during the day—for more hocus-pocus sessions, I figured. I found Travis sitting cross-legged on the floor of the gazebo out back, looking out at the bay. He sat so still he looked like the carved wooden Indian they used to have in a fancy tobacco store in town around the turn of the century. The turn of the twentieth century, that is. He spoke before he turned to see me. “I love the sea,” he said. “It reminds me of my youth in what is now called Belize.” “Do you get back there much?” I asked, taking a seat on the wooden bench that ran along the inside of the gazebo.

“Every few years.” He got up and sat on the bench opposite so he could look me in the eye. “It’s not the same as when I was a boy, of course. Parts of it are still mercifully unspoiled, but the great jewel of a city I grew up in has been overtaken by the jungle. It saddens me still.” I took a deep breath. Belize. Mayan territory. “Yesterday you mentioned being a warrior for the cities of gold. You fought the Spanish in Central America?” “Oh, yes,” he said. “For all the good it did.” He looked back out at the water and his eyes grew as cold and black as a crow’s. “Cortés was embraced as a god. By the time we realized he was a devil, it was too late.” “Wow,” I breathed. “You actually fought Cortés. If you don’t mind me asking, how far back do you go, exactly?” Travis smiled then. “To about five centuries after the birth of Jesus Christ,” he said. “So you see, I am rather ancient, already a blood drinker for a thousand years before the Europeans came.” William told me once that the older a vampire, the more powerful he was. I wondered how old a bloodsucker would have to be to rival the power of the voodoo blood. I hoped I never had to find out firsthand. Travis might look placid most of the time, but I felt in my bones that he would be a mighty adversary. Luckily he was on our side. “If you were in Belize a thousand years before Cortés, that would have made you a …Mayan, wouldn’t it?” I held my breath waiting for his answer. “Yes. I am Mayan,” Travis said. I let my breath out. “That was quite a culture.” It was quite a bloody culture, all right. They did more slicing and dicing than the guys in the Ginsu knife commercials, and that was just on themselves. I couldn’t believe the things I read about that they did to their prisoners of war, and I’m not what you’d call the squeamish type, what with being a guy who has eaten my share of bad guys alive. But I figured if I wanted to get Travis talking, I should stick to the more flattering aspects of his heritage. “You had arithmetic, a calendar—is it true you could predict eclipses because your knowledge of astronomy was so good?” Travis smiled again, looking pleased. “You’re interested in history, I see. Yes, Jack, all that is true. And we were expert farmers and traders as well. The Maya built a mighty civilization and maintained it for hundreds of years before it crumbled to ruin.” “That was way before the conquistadores came, though, right? If they didn’t destroy it, who did?” Travis sighed and reached into the pocket of his shearling coat for a pipe and a pouch of tobacco. “Modern historians blame drought, or war. The truth is, the blame lies squarely with the men who called themselves kings. And later…gods.” Mayan gods. Pay dirt. “Tell me what happened,” I said. And for the next half hour, I listened as Travis told the whole, sad, horrifying tale. I was a priest as was my father before me and his father before him. We conducted sacred rituals, controlled holy festivals, computed time, and recorded history. But there were darker duties as well. The nobility had become drunk—figuratively drunk on power and literally drunk on hallucinogenic mushrooms from our own land in addition to peyote from the north and coca leaves from Inca lands to the south. The royal court imbibed these substances and their hallucinations were thought to be sacred divinations. I knew them for what they were: the ravings of drunken lunatics. But what was a priest to do? The nobility had declared themselves gods and the people worshipped them. Somewhere along the way, these kings became obsessed with blood. In the youth of my ancestors, the nobility sacrificed only animals. By the time I came along, the sacrifices were human. We speak today of the old European lords and their liking for torture. In my duties as a human priest, I would pluck the beating heart from a human being and show it to him while he was still alive to watch it throb until it became still. I then took the sacrificial blood, anointed the statues of the gods, and smeared it onto the faces and chests of the king and queen. It was thought that blood shed in the sacrifice of a human could open the portal between heaven and hell. And thinking

back on it, as I have many times through the centuries, I’ve come to the belief that it actually did. The sacrifices came from the ranks of the prisoners we took from wars with other tribes. The higher the rank of the captive, the more valued he was as a sacrifice, so as you can see, the most rare and prized sacrifice of all was that of a king. In one of our tribe’s many wars, our warriors actually captured one. We kept him captive for months, bleeding him gradually, using his blood in rituals and ceremonies until he grew weak and delirious. Finally, our own king decided that the captured king should make the ultimate sacrifice, so I and the other priests organized a grand festival, complete with hundreds of musicians and dancers. Thousands of peasants gathered around the palace for the celebration, and when the time for the great sacrifice came, the captive king was brought out and held down on a stone altar. As I raised the obsidian knife above his heart, he placed a curse on the king of our land. The Maya believed that when the sun sets, it travels to the underworld, called Xibalba. After its nightly triumph over the lords of death, it rises again. The doomed king called out to Itzamna, the lord of the heavens, to curse our king so that he could never again see the sun and—if he was such a lover of blood—to require that it be the only food that would ever nourish his body. Our king laughed at the curse of his enemy and ordered me to carry out the sacrifice. I did as I was told, although there was a fear beating in my chest like the wings of a great bird. I anointed the king and queen and the stone idols with blood and then I drenched the sacred cloths with it. The cloths we burned in great braziers so that the smoke could drift out and encircle the people and empower them with the essence of the sacrificial blood. The people cried out in awe as the smoke from the fire formed itself into a column and took the shape of a vision serpent. This was a rare and holy event, one that had not happened in my lifetime, although the old priests told of it in stories passed down through the generations. The whole city stared in silence as the vision serpent grew and began to speak. “Iztamna, lord of the day and the night, declares that it is so. The blood thirst of this king will never be satisfied, and he shall never see the sun, but will always be banished to the underworld, the world of darkness and shadow.” And with that, a mighty wind arose and blew away the smoke. The people panicked and ran screaming, stampeding one another to get away from the fearsome sight and sound of the god of the heavens. I was as frightened as anyone, especially when I saw my king fall upon the floor of the platform, writhing in agony, clutching his throat. The other priests and I carried him into the palace and laid him upon his bed. It fell to me to sit with him all through the night and the following day. I was the high priest and it was my responsibility to see to the king—the king who had declared himself a god. After sundown on the second day, I was asleep sitting straight up when the king wakened me. He seemed cured of whatever had stricken him, and he bade me lie on his bed. I was tired, he said, and needed to rest, good servant that I was. He thanked me for guarding him. I did as I was told, but no sooner had I lain my body down than the king was on me, powerful arms holding me down on the bed. I struggled and fought but was helpless against his power. Then I saw his mouth open into a great maw and there were awful fangs where human teeth should be. The pain was both terrible and sublime. I’ll never forget it if I survive to see five thousand summers. When the pulse thundering in my ears began to die out, my king ripped the flesh of his own wrist and forced me to drink. And so I became as cursed as he was. Cursed to feed on blood and never see the sun. But also to have eternal life. How, you may ask, did the people react? Why, they filed their teeth to points in the fashion of the king and took his new nature in stride. They were used to blood sacrifice, after all, so it was all the same to them. However, the making did not end with me. The king made all his nobles into blood drinkers and they set out on an orgy of blood and hallucinogens that eventually spread to other tribes and caused the people to desert their great cities from fear and scatter into the jungles far and wide. I blinked, mesmerized by Travis’s story, and watched the smoke from his pipe curl around his head as I thought about the vision snake. Some of the images Travis described were enough to curl my fangs. That trick about pulling the beating heart out of a guy’s

chest and showing it to him sounded like something out of the Jackie Chan movie from hell. And to think that humans had done that. It sounded more like something Reedrek and some of his posse would do. “What happened to the other blood drinkers? Are there any more of you still around?” “No.” Travis shivered and not, I thought, from the cold. “When the aristocracy’s debauchery reached its zenith, the slayers came. From the overworld.” “Slayers?” A prickle of what could only be called fear crept down my spine. I breathed deeply of the aromatic pipe tobacco. It was cured with honey. “You mean, like vampire slayers? Did somebody go all Buffy on you guys?” Travis looked confused. I guess he wasn’t tuned in to the pop culture vamp scene. “The Mayan heavens have many gods and monsters. I suppose which is which depends on your point of view. Anyway, they came when we slept and slew everyone except me. I escaped. To this day I don’t know how, or why.” I had to shake off a momentary vision of Buffy sneaking up on me in my sleep. Hey, that might even be worth being staked. I had so many questions I didn’t know where to begin, so I started with the biggest one. “Are you saying that you’re the first made vampire? In the whole world?” Travis raised his hand and smiled. “No, Jack. I’m not the grand-ancestor of all the vampires on earth.” “But how—” “I don’t know how vampires originated on other continents, only on the one where I was born and made. Perhaps the forces of evil that manifest themselves into vampires belong to a realm of the underworld that exists in all parts of the globe, simply waiting to be freed by some elemental force.” “And then it’s, Katie, bar the door.” “Precisely.” Travis took another puff and looked back out onto the bay. “Perhaps we’ll never know. But on the other hand, perhaps someday we will.” “Wow. All this is some heavy shit.” My head felt light, like I’d sucked myself stupid on wino blood. (I hate when that happens; it’s a crummy way to get a hangover.) Travis had given me so much to think about, I didn ’t know what to start with. Then one question rose to the top of my consciousness. “Do you think there’ll ever be a—a cure?” Travis looked astonished and chuckled. “Heavens, I can’t imagine that happening. Why on earth would you ever want to be human again?” I shrugged. “I miss it. The warmth, the sun. The life.” Travis puffed away for a few moments. “You’ll get over that in time. When your memory of being human fades, you’ll get over it.” Damn. I didn’t want to get over it. His words sank into the place where my soul used to be and chilled me to my core. I tried to shake it off so I could ask him more about those slayers, but someone rang the big dinner bell, signaling that the meeting was about to start. It would have to wait. Travis got to his feet. “Saved by the bell,” he said.

William To my astonishment, everyone excluding myself, Iban, and Jack seemed to be in an almost festive mood on this second night of meetings. I had to assign the cause to Eleanor and her talent at providing pleasure. Coming in just before dawn, she’d crawled on top of me and ridden us both to orgasm as she described in great detail every drop of blood shed, every twitch of pain felt. The

swans had been required to wear hoods, she explained as she rocked back and forth. And of course—she picked up the pace, sliding up and down my length faster and faster—they had to mind how much blood got on the carpet, but other than those rules nearly anything went. She dug her fingernails into my shoulders, put back her head, and moaned as she went over the edge and found her own pleasure. And a grand time was had by all. Now, as I watched these sleek, well-fed, sophisticated vampires chat and laugh it was hard to imagine that we were discussing a war or at the very least a siege. I’d been visiting in Paris for the fall of Louis le Dernier and the parallels were striking —how the aristocrats had laughed and reveled in their superiority as their own servants planned ways to kill them. Dread settled in my chest. Left to our own devices we might be immortal, but we were not invincible—especially to one another. The Abductors had gotten back to me with word that Hugo’s clan had all but emptied their central home, save for a few guards and spies left behind; the main family members were gone. This was not particularly good news. I cleared my throat and held up a hand to claim the room’s attention. Enough socializing: time to get back to business. “Shall we begin?” “Yes, of course,” Lucius said. “But first, William, I’d like to congratulate you on your excellent taste in—” He smiled a little too warmly at Eleanor “—mates. “My dear,” he continued, directly to her, “if you could arrange such an interesting evening in this backwater town with so little to work with, just think what you could do in a city like New York.” “Or San Francisco,” Tobey added. Offers barely veiled in compliments. I knew Eleanor was loyal —she’d saved herself for me the night before; she was most assuredly mine—yet this evening was becoming an Eleanor-petting contest and everyone except Iban and Jack was participating. Jack and Eleanor were still standing figuratively on either side of me, each suspicious of the other. Iban hadn ’t participated in Eleanor’s games; he’d spent the evening resting, although he didn’t look better for it. In any case, I felt a twinge of conscience for interrupting their praise of Eleanor, but we had to move on. “I assume that most of you took some rest,” I said, letting my sarcasm show. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to resume where we left off last night. I’ve had some disturbing news.” The room fell silent. “I have it from the Abductors that Hugo’s clan has left their territory. We don’t know if they’re traveling as a group or if they’ve scattered to the winds, but I think it’s safe to assume they have something planned. It could mean they’re on their way here as Reedrek threatened. Their plots might also have something to do with Olivia’s spies: three were sent to find any information. Two of those are believed killed, so Hugo must at least know that the European communities suspect him of dark plans. If nothing else, his kin are making themselves harder to find.” “And Hugo must figure Reedrek got his butt kicked,” Jack said. “Otherwise he’d have heard from dear old dad by now.” A brief whisper emanated from Jack’s mind: Diana. Then it was gone. I stopped and stared at him, waiting for the rest of the thought. Why would he be thinking of Diana? I was about to demand an answer when I remembered my last conversation with Reedrek before he’d turned to stone. He’d taunted me with Diana’s name and with Hugo. Jack must’ve felt my surge of anger. “What?” he asked, looking directly at me again. His mind was filled with a parade of stock car wrecks, each more spectacular than the last…ending with the beloved number three car hitting the wall. He winced at the impact.

I was too busy to ferret out Jack’s race car logic. I went on. “Reedrek is definitely involved with whatever plans have been made to attack us. Although I still don’t understand why my sire would come alone; in a sense, he warned us we’d been discovered.” “I guess he thought he could handle us alone,” Tobey said. “And he damned near did. If it hadn’t been for Jack and whatever the two of you did with that old blood, I figure we’d be ashes in the wind by now.” “Possibly,” I agreed. “But now he’s caught and we are—we will be ready for whatever this Hugo has in store for us.” “I still think we should put aside our scruples and make as many offspring as possible. We could begin here, in your town, then carry on when we reach our own territories,” Lucius, ever single-minded, remarked. “Lucius—what would be the point?” Gerard asked. “We’d have more to feed, more to protect, and the humans would be destroyed anyway.” “But they could give us an element of surprise. If the Euros think we are few and far between then a strong showing here would send them back to the drawing board—” Jack’s cell phone rang with a recorded voice, “Gentlemen, start your engines,” followed by the sound of roaring race cars. My annoyance with Lucius spilled over on Jack. “Jack, you know how annoying I find that sound—” “Sorry.” He shrugged and stared at the small metal contraption. “It’s Melaphia.” He raised the phone to his ear. “Hello?” I did my best not to tap my foot, only to realize I’d levitated slightly off the floor. After a few short weeks of equanimity, I felt the stirring of my former hair-trigger temper. “Jack!” Jack lowered the phone with a sober expression on his face. “Mel says there’s an emergency call.” His gaze shifted to Iban. “From L.A.” He turned back to me. “She’s having them call this number.” Within a few seconds the irritating voice sounded again. Jack put a stop to it after the first word. Then he handed the phone to Iban. If I’d thought Iban looked paler than usual before, as he listened to the caller he looked positively sick. The hand holding the phone shook. “That’s impossible. How could this happen?” He listened for several minutes, now and then firing off a question that made no sense to the rest of us, who were left to listen helplessly. Then he said, “No, I’m—” He gazed at me, pure misery in his eyes. “I don’t know. Get to a safe place—call me again in one hour at this number.” When he handed the phone to Jack, I saw tears in his eyes. “They’re all dead…” “What!” three of us said at once. Iban looked like he might collapse. “My clan, my servants…all but one.” “William, we’ve waited too long, the war is upon us!” Lucius declared. “If they’re in L.A., they could be headed for Seattle. How many were there? How are they traveling?” Tobey asked. Then he looked at me. “They could be here, too.” I crossed the room, closer to Iban. When I put out a hand, he flinched. “Don’t touch me!” he said hoarsely. “Why, old friend? Tell us what has happened. Who killed your family?” “No one.” “What do you mean? How can that be true?”

“They got sick, they died. Some kind of plague.” There was a collective shocked silence in the room, then everyone began talking. “All dead? Don’t be ridiculous. What kind of plague can kill a vampire?” “I’ve never heard of such a thing. Our sires lived through the black death.” “How did they contract it?” Gerard, always the scientist, claimed the floor. “Who was the first to die?” By the time we got the story out of Iban, some of us remained unconvinced, but we were all shaken. What he described was not merely a plague but a rotting pestilence. First, the vampires sickened, then, more slowly, their human companions. One of the humans had written a short diary as one by one they died. The only remaining living member had been out of the area on our coastwatching business and had returned to the horrible scene. “How do you know you can trust this last survivor?” Lucius asked. “Perhaps he’s been enthralled or, worse, enlisted. It could be a ruse to get you, or all of us, to rush to the West Coast.” He sniffed. “Personally, I refuse to believe in this story. Vampires do not get sick and die.” Gerard took over. “Right now I need time to sort it out. I want all of you to go back to your quarters,” he said. “Stay inside, stay with your own family members. No feeding, no playing. ” His gaze moved to Eleanor. “We must have all the humans who were present last night quarantined.” He looked to me then. “Iban cannot stay with you. He must be isolated.” “And suffer his grief alone? I won’t have it.” Gerard’s expression softened, but he held his ground. His voice low, he said, “Can’t you see he’s already sick?”

After Gerard had taken blood samples from each of us and packed them in his medical kit, he sent us on our way. “Eleanor, take a car to Houghton Square immediately,” I ordered. When Eleanor demurred, saying she wished to stay with me, I had to make her understand her place in all of this. “You must list and contact your employees and any swans who were present last evening. Tell them—” If they’d been infected it most likely would already be too late. “Tell them to go back to the suite and wait for us. Pay them double. We need to have them in one place, in case…” The look of horror on Eleanor’s face stopped me. Then she pulled herself together. “I understand. But shouldn’t someone stay with them to watch for…?” “Not you.” “But—” “I won’t risk you for a few mortals. Now please do as I ask.” After seeing Eleanor away, I called Tilly. I didn ’t know where else to turn. Short of abandoning Iban in one of the tombs of Bonaventure or locking him into the hold of one of my yachts, there were few options. He couldn’t possibly go back to California. And I hated the thought that he might die alone. On hearing my story, Tilly insisted on having him with her and Gerard unexpectedly agreed. On Tilly ’s part, she said a little plague couldn’t be worse than the slow ravages time itself had visited on her body. But most of all, she wasn ’t afraid to die, especially when her death might be a service to me.

“Bring him here. I’ll dismiss the staff and look after him myself,” she said. Gerard believed we needed to watch Iban’s decline for clues as to how we might find a cure before all of us were taken down. Iban stared out the window of the Mercedes the whole ride into town. When I finally couldn ’t stand the silence any longer, I spoke. “I’m so sorry, Iban.” He remained silent for another long moment, then he turned toward me. “We must find Sullivan…make sure he’s safe.” “I’ll have Jack bring him to you.” “No. Not to me. I might infect him somehow. Keep an eye on him…unless he’s already sick.” “I will.”

Nine

Jack I drove Gerard back to Savannah as if the devil himself was after us. Gerard was on the cell phone to his own people the whole time, barking orders in English and French, instructing them to look up this and that in medical and chemistry databases and report back to him. I didn’t follow much of it, even the parts that were in English, except I did get the impression that Gerard thought the whole plague thing was a deliberate attack. Hell, I didn’t even know vampires could get sick. The only time I’d ever been sick—since I turned, that is—was the time I got hold of some rotgut moonshine that was contaminated with lead, back in the 1940s I think it was. I felt sluggish for days, but that was better than my human buddies had fared. We’d all passed out during a poker game and I was the only one who woke up. Damned hard to explain to the county sheriff, I’ll tell you. Gerard finished his calls and closed the flip phone with a snap. “Jack, mon ami, as a race we are hard to kill, but if you don’t slow this machine, we will surely wind up wrapped around one of those lovely live oaks, and both of us are too handsome to suffer such a fate.” “Oh, sorry, Gerry,” I said, and took it down a notch. “So, I take it you think this was some sorta bioterror attack.” “Of course. In all my four hundred years I’ve never heard of a vampire dying from a virus or any other kind of ordinary illness. Whatever pathogen killed the members of the California colony must have been engineered specifically to destroy us, and it can ’t have been easy.” Well, now, that info was enough to give a cold-blooded boy the heebie-jeebies. I’d been gearing up for a good fists-and-fangs fight if Reedrek’s little helpers were to cross the pond, but how did you fight an enemy you couldn’t see? Attacking somebody with microscopic bugs was just not sporting—not a man’s way to fight, much less a vampire’s. I screeched to a halt against a yellow curb and we entered the hospital’s emergency entrance so we wouldn’t attract attention. Visiting hours were long since over. Instead of bringing Gerard through the tunnels, I ’d taken the faster way. But in the car I’d explained how to make his way back to William’s from the hospital through a tunnel entrance in a basement supply closet, and I’d made sure he had William’s phone number in his cell in case he got lost. All that was left was to lead him to the blood bank. Then he’d be on his own while I went in search of Sullivan. Gerard followed as we walked through the ER waiting room and past the triage area. The smell of human blood was everywhere, not that the humans could tell. There must’ve been a fresh stabbing, shooting, or a particularly grisly car wreck. My fangs involuntarily lengthened at the aroma and my hunger for fresh human blood, never far below the surface, gripped my gut. Hey, I’m a vampire. Give me a break. I looked back at Gerard, who carried our blood samples in an official-looking medical case. We reached a bank of elevators without anybody challenging us. I punched in the button for the basement just as a nasty thought hit me. “Hey, how’d you happen to have what you needed to get everybody’s blood samples, anyway?” Gerard eyed me warily. “I was hoping to get samples of blood from Melaphia and Renee on this trip. I plan to do experiments

on the voodoo blood for our mutual protection. Don’t let your imagination run away with you, Jack.” We got off in the basement, where the blood bank was within spittin ’ distance of the tunnels. Even if I hadn’t been at the dedication party William had thrown for the staff, hospital administrators, and other contributors just a few days after we did away with Reedrek, I could have just followed my nose. Of course, none of those humans knew that as well as storing blood for humans’ medical needs, the blood bank also served as William’s special stash. The problem was, William had forgotten—probably on purpose—to tell me how he got to the blood to liberate it for his own private use. I was going to have to wing it. We came to a door plastered with all kinds of do-not-enter, medical-staff-only signs and biohazard symbols. A short, stout nurse looked up from her clipboard and saw us. “Just a minute. Who are you and where do you think you’re going?” I’d only used what we in the vampire trade called “enthrallment” on two people before—Connie and Werm—but it had worked like, well, a charm. I hoped that talent wouldn’t fail me now. “Good evenin’, ma’am.” I gave her my brightest, broadest, least fangy smile. Now, how was it I’d done this again? I froze. The only thing I could think of was that line from Star Wars: These are not the droids you’re looking for. I shook it off, and concentrated on making young Nurse Ratchet believe what I was about to say. “This man is a scientist and he needs to use the lab.” I said it quietly, holding her gaze with mine, willing her to believe and accept. “Everything is as it should be. I think someone needs you at the nurses’ station.” She stared into my eyes, motionless and silent, then blinked—once, twice. “All right, then,” she said in a small voice. “I think someone needs me in the nurses’ station.” For a second she looked as if she might say something else, but instead, she turned and walked away. “Impressive, Jack,” Gerard said. “William said you had many talents. I can see it is true.” I shrugged. “Yeah. Next I’m gonna learn how to do the Vulcan mind meld.” Gerard’s eyebrows lifted. “I’m not familiar with that process. Is it another form of enthrallment?” “Something like that.” Some of these really old vampires just didn’t keep up with the times. “How long is this gonna take?” I asked. “I can’t say. I have to access their equipment—centrifuges, microscopes, and so on. I’ll do what I can here and bring back whatever else I need to William’s. It’ll take hours at least, possibly days.” I checked my watch. “It’s two A.M. Shift change is at seven, in five hours. I’ve got to find Sullivan. You’re on your own getting out of here without being questioned.” Gerard smiled, showing a hint of fang. “Do not worry, mon ami. I have a few tricks of my own.” “I’ll just bet you do.” I clapped him on the back and headed for the elevators. When I reached the lobby of the hospital I picked up the courtesy phone. I’d had to give my cell up to Iban since he told his people to call him back at my number. As much as I hated to consider the possibility, I had a hunch as to where Sullivan might be. I dialed Connie’s number. She’d said she was beginning a vacation so she wouldn’t be on duty. My dead heart lurched with something like life, or maybe just pain, when she picked up and said, “Hello.” “Connie, it’s Jack. I’m looking for Sullivan. It’s an emergency and I wonder if you’ve—” “Hang on,” she said. I swore viciously under my breath. William had told me I had to pick Sullivan up and bring him home, but he didn’t say anything about him having to have blood left in his body when I delivered him.

I put the top down on the ’Vette even though it was wicked cold. I needed to cool myself off in a lot of ways. Sullivan was standing in front of Connie’s apartment building as I’d told him to. Connie was standing beside him, bundled in her coat over what looked like slinky silk pants. I waited at the curb, looking at the two of them out of the corner of my eye. Before he turned to go, she laid her hand on his arm. My fangs grazed my lower lip and my vision started to go red. Get a grip, man, I told myself. I hadn’t gotten into details with Sullivan on the phone because I didn’t want him to give anything away to Connie. I’d just told him there was a “situation” that needed his immediate attention. The last thing we needed was for the human population to get wind of a killer virus on the loose. Iban had said that the humans at the California colony had died, too, and Gerard had ordered a quarantine for all the swans who had partied with the vamps last night. If Sullivan had exposed Connie to something that could kill her… I wasn’t going to think about that. Yeah, right. No more than I was going to think about what she and Sullivan had been up to at two o’clock in the morning in her apartment. He got into the car and shut the door. “Geez, Jack, isn’t it a little cool to have the top down?” Sullivan rubbed his arms. “You’re the warm-blooded one. Deal with it.” I put the car in gear and floored the accelerator, flattening the human back against the seat. “Buckle up, buttercup.” I wished I was back on the highway, where I could give him the ride of his life. As it was, I could only bob and weave around the squares, throwing Sullivan up against the passenger door as he struggled to buckle his seat belt. “Hey, mortal on board, man!” Sullivan held on to the door for dear life. Dear life. Now there was a phrase that could resonate. I sometimes forgot how dear their lives were to humans. And how fragile. Tough shit. “You’re the second guy tonight to complain about my driving, and I just hate that. Don’t be such a pussy. Besides, would I hurt Iban’s most trusted human?” I looked at him finally, showing full fang. He froze and I saw real fear on his face. “What’s this about, Jack? Is there really something wrong or is this a trick to get me out of Connie’s apartment?” I stomped on the brakes so hard that if he hadn’t buckled his seat belt, he would’ve become a warm-blooded hood ornament. The humans in their mansions were snug in their beds and the only sound was the purring of my motor. I pinned him with my eyes, which could glow greenish blue in the dark. “Don’t ever again accuse me of manipulating Connie if you value your life. I don’t care whose little helper you are.” Sullivan swallowed so hard his Adam’s apple bobbed. “What’s wrong then? Is it Iban?” I let up on the brake and edged the convertible into the final turn to William’s house. “Yes. He’s sick.” “Sick?” Sullivan asked, confused. “You…guys are never sick. What—” “It’s worse than that. Some kind of plague has broken out in your colony.” I softened my tone at his look of horror. Whatever my problems with him where Connie was concerned, he’d just lost a bunch of his friends and I was sorry to have to be the one to tell him. “The vampires are all dead. Most of the humans, too.” “Oh, God, no,” Sullivan breathed. He put his hands to his face. I repeated what little Iban had told us about what had happened and summarized what William and Gerard had said in the aftermath. By the time we had pulled into William’s driveway, Sullivan looked almost as pale as me in the security lights. “I’ve got to see how Iban is. Did William put him in his coffin early to sleep or is he resting in the house?” “He’s not here. Gerard put him under quarantine.” “Where is he?” “With a friend of William’s.”

“Take me to him.” “No can do. It’s for your own good. Iban said he didn’t want you exposed.” By this time, I was going up William’s front walk and Sullivan was close behind. He grabbed me by the arm and spun me around to face him. From this distance I could smell Connie’s perfume on him, and I tried real hard to keep from hating him enough to kill him on the spot. “That’s bullshit. I lived with them the same as Iban. I’m already as exposed as I’m going to get. Now take me to him.” I looked him up and down and sighed. I could tell by the set of his jaw he wasn ’t going to back down. Besides, he was right. Iban was already sick and Sullivan himself probably wasn’t far behind, quarantine or no quarantine. “Oh, all right,” I said. “Get back in the car.”

When we got to Tilly’s, Sullivan took the porch steps two at a time. The old girl answered the door herself. “Hello, Miss T.,” I said. “This is Sullivan, Iban’s friend. He insisted on coming.” “Where is he?” Sullivan said, taking her extended hand briefly. “Downstairs,” Tilly said, with a gesture toward the elegant staircase behind her. He took off toward the stairs as I leaned down to kiss Tilly’s lightly rouged cheek. “Sorry about all this.” “I’m just sorry for that poor, lovely Spaniard,” she said. She reached up with one delicate hand and fingered the hair at my collar softly. “You’d better go down and explain yourself to William. You know how he is when you disobey him.” “Yes ma’am, I do,” I said. “I may need you to help defend me. Nobody can wrap William around her little finger like you can.” She smiled and I could see the beautiful young woman she once was. “If he gives you any trouble, you just whistle.” She looked up at me coquettishly and added, “Just put your lips together and blow.” “You know I will.” I gave her narrow shoulders a gentle squeeze and went downstairs. William opened the door and stopped when he saw me. “There you are. Were my orders unclear?” He voice was low and controlled, probably because Iban was in earshot behind him. He was close to levitating, but the vibe I was getting from my sire wasn’t all about anger. There was grief in him, and maybe even fear. “He insisted. Besides, he’s already exposed, so what’s the point?” William exhaled slowly to calm himself. “What’s done is done.” “How is he?” I asked. I could hear Sullivan’s voice behind William as he spoke softly to Iban. The horror in his tone made me shiver. “Come and see for yourself. But don’t get closer than the doorway. I had his coffin brought in so he could rest easier, but there is nothing else we can do for the moment. We may already be exposed as you say, but…just see for yourself. You may as well know what we’re up against.” William stepped aside. Sullivan stepped over the threshold and stopped, blocking my view of Iban. When Sullivan shifted so that I could see, my brain nearly shut down trying to reconcile the face staring back from the pillow with the man I’d seen just a couple of hours before. Iban’s flesh had turned a mottled gray. His skin sagged away from his cheekbones and hung beneath his chin. Clumps of his hair

lay beside his head on the pillow. It looked like death was finally catching up with him and meant to collect its due after having been defied for so many centuries. As I watched helplessly, a piece of flesh above his cheek let go from his face, leaving the bottom of one eye socket exposed. Iban shifted his bloodshot, sunken eyes to stare at us. “Is it that bad, Señor Jack?” I tried to swallow, but my mouth had gone dust dry. “You’re going to be just fine, amigo,” I said.

William As usual, Jack had disregarded my orders. Now he would have to do or die. “Jack, listen very carefully,” I said. “This is a matter of great importance to me.” Jack dragged his attention away from Iban and settled it in my direction. “Go to my home, stay with Eleanor, lock yourselves below floors if you have to. I want her safe and protected. ” I started to place a hand on his shoulder but withdrew at the last moment. I had carried Iban inside, then placed him in his coffin. Could a touch infect? There was no way to know yet. Jack bristled. “What about you? And Iban? What if you need me?” “I’ll call.” Jack looked from me to Iban and back again. “No, you won’t,” he declared under his breath. “Jack!” I had to penetrate that thick skull of his. “We each have a job to do. Right now we must wait and gather information— give Gerard some time to work. I need you to be my surrogate and take care of the others: Melaphia, Renee…Eleanor. If we fail then all are doomed. Trust me, I’ll call if there is more important news.” Jack gave Sullivan a dark look. “What about him?” “He must go with you,” Iban said, his voice as ravaged as his body. Sullivan dropped to his knees next to the coffin. “Why? What’s the point? If what we’ve heard is true, then we’re the only ones left.” “My dear compadre, if you haven’t been infected with this contagion there is no sense in taking such a chance. You’ve served me well. Now serve yourself. I bequeath my legacy to you. My property, my work—it is your responsibility to live.” Iban turned his ruined face away. “Now I order you to go.” Sullivan bowed his head, then slowly pushed to his feet. I stepped out of the room and motioned to Jack to follow. “For once, I’m glad you didn’t do as I asked and instead brought Sullivan here.” I stopped speaking and opened my thoughts to him. I don’t want him anywhere near Eleanor. Take him to your shop and make him stay there. “But what about the guys?” “Send them away.” “Where?”

Just do it. I felt my feet leave the polished wooden floor and watched Jack’s reaction. “All right, already.” He turned to Sullivan. “Come on. We’re gonna take another little ride.” Sullivan seemed too distraught to care. Just then Tilly came down the short hall from the butler’s elevator, carefully balancing a tray of medicines. The pungent odor of green tea permeated the air. Out of reflex, I took the tray from her, walked past Jack and Sullivan, and placed it on the coffin-side table. Then I looked at Jack. Why are you still here? Jack clamped a hand on Sullivan’s arm and propelled him toward the stairs. “How do you feel about zombies?” he asked.

The next few hours were torturous. Iban rested fitfully as the disease ravaged his body. Tilly’s ministrations seemed to ease his suffering but I had no idea what to expect—how long we had before— “Why don’t you go up and get some rest, dear?” I said to my old friend. “I can stay with him until dawn. Then he’ll need you more than ever.” “I will, in a bit,” she answered, totally absorbed by Iban’s delirious struggle. “Isn’t life strange,” she said, almost to herself, “how the wrong ones suffer when many of those who deserve pain and heartbreak escape?” I slid an arm around her shoulders. “That’s an observation only the long-lived could make, my dear,” I said, referring to her age and to my own. “The young and reckless are too busy pursuing that elusive idea of happiness. Wisdom carries its own reward.” She looked at me then. “I think I’ve had about all the wisdom I can stand.” For a long moment, I said nothing. I could feel her physical fatigue and see emotional exhaustion in her gaze. She’d lived through enough woe and grandeur for any five human lives. “At the very least there will be sweet rest for you when you decide to leave us. But right now let me be selfish and say, Don’t go. We need you. I need you.” She sighed. “I’m not as confident as you are about my eternal rest. Not after some of my sins. I ’m fairly sure our maker will frown upon murder and suicide, no matter how many I tried to help.” She reached up to squeeze my hand. “But I won’t leave yet.” She pulled away and leaned closer to Iban. “Not yet,” she whispered. The cell phone on the night table began to buzz and vibrate like a trapped bee. I ’d made Jack turn off the ridiculous race car nonsense. I caught it as it tumbled off the edge and opened it. “Yes?” “Mr. Thorne? This is Tarney. Miss Melaphia said I could get you at this number. Sorry to bother you so late—” “What is it?” “Well, Jack told me to call if anything strange happened down here—” “Go on.” My misgivings about losing Tilly solidified into dread. “There’s a ship—at your dock. One of yours, but we don’t have one scheduled—” “Clear the area, immediately. I’ll handle it.” “Should I call Jack? He said—”

“No. Get your men out of there, now. Leave this to us.” “Yes sir. And I don’t mind sayin’—” I broke the connection, not bothering to redial the blasted cell phone. I opened my thoughts and called for Jack the old fashioned way, by letting him feel my dread along with his orders. Going to the docks at once. Trouble afoot. Stay where you are. Warn the others. “Tilly, dear, I have something I must attend to.” I shut the phone and handed it to her, then kissed her forehead. “I’ll be back as soon as possible. Remember, do not invite anyone inside, no matter who they say they are.” “Don’t worry. I understand.” Her downcast gaze drifted back to Iban. “I’ll look after him until you return.”

I arrived at the harbor in time to see the last of the men who ’d been on duty with Tarney drive off into the darkness. Without conscious effort on my part, impelled only by my sense of urgency, the gate swung open as though it recognized the Mercedes. Locks were to keep humans out, not vampires. And certainly not me. As I parked the car I got my first look at the ship, the Windward, a fifty-two-foot sailing vessel. Low and sleek, it was one of the fastest in my small armada. And dark, deserted -looking…but that meant little. The interior would be lightproof. Until this moment I had believed the Windward tied up at the dock in Ireland, but that was clearly not the case. I remembered the last time an unexpected arrival had touched this dock. The ghost ship Alabaster had carried Reedrek, who, bringing all the evil he could muster, had slaughtered every mortal and immortal on board. This ship still carried its cargo. The dread I’d felt at Tilly’s redoubled. There were vampires aboard; I could feel the itch of kindred on my skin. Strange, yet familiar. So it begins. Unfamiliar laughter echoed in my mind as a movement in the shadows near the dry dock crane drew my attention. I drew in a long breath and gathered my power. If this was a trap, I’d already slipped my head through the noose. Just as well. All this waiting and planning had been a damp blanket over my urgency for revenge. The image of Iban dying, rotting away, seared my thoughts. Cold blood fueled by fury settled into my jaws, extending my fangs, bringing the metallic taste of blood. One of the shadows moved slowly toward me. “William? Sir?” a hesitant voice called out. It took a few seconds for my blood lust to recede far enough to recognize the figure. “Lamar—Werm?” He stepped toward me. His relaxed smile seemed out of place. “What the devil are you doing here?” Werm couldn’t be the vampire I’d sensed. “I wanted to show my friends the docks.” Werm shrugged. “But only one of ’em was brave enough to come along.” He turned back to the shadow he’d left in the dark. “Come on out. I want you to meet—” He intended to say, my sire, but I stopped him with a warning jolt of displeasure. “—M-Mr. Thorne, the owner.” The shadow coalesced, pushed off from his casual, leaning stance, and sauntered toward us. Though dressed in the same rebellious fashion that Werm and his friends affected, this goth was different. He radiated anger and satisfaction. And he wasn ’t a mortal posing as a vampire: He was a vampire. Why had Werm neglected to mention that fact?

This one was not afraid. “Pleas’d to meet you at last,” he said, exaggerating his cockney accent, making the pleasantry sound like a threat. When he extended a hand to me I saw the cross-shaped scar, burned into the flesh of his upper chest and throat like a brand. Marking him for all to see. Revulsion ran through me but I covered it and met his hand halfway, in case he had plans beyond a simple human greeting. His voice had awakened the yearning for home—for England—I’d put away long ago. This vampire was no fledgling, even though he looked to be in his early twenties. He felt old, well connected. Yet something inside him was broken. Touching his skin telegraphed a jumble of mixed messages. Hate, pain, hunger…and love for one— He pulled away before I did. The feeling of familiarity persisted. “Why haven’t you come to me sooner?” I’d been so busy with the unusual numbers of vampires in the area that I’d fallen down on my personal vigilance. I’d been forced to depend on human spies. I should have paid more attention when Werm told me about— “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t catch your name.” The stranger’s smile looked more like a snarl. “I didn’t give it. I like yours though, eh? Thorne—a posh English name, good enough for a king.” “There are no kings here in America,” I said, just to prove that he couldn’t rile me unless I wished to be riled. The screeching of tires on cobblestone interrupted our barely begun sparring match. A car skidded through the front gate and slid sideways in the gravel of the boatyard. I didn’t need to turn to know who had arrived. The familiar roar of Jack ’s Corvette echoed among the buildings. It was useless to choose between anger and admiration. He was here now. Werm, however, was beginning to look a little green at the gills. “Hey,” he said to his new friend. “Maybe we should hit the road—go over to Colonial and—” Dust floated through the air around us as Jack’s automobile came to a stop.

Jack I winced as I lost traction and scattered gravel. There went a brand-new paint job, but that was the least of my worries. Over Eleanor’s protests I’d locked her in William’s vault with Reyha and Deylaud and I’d been busy getting Sullivan settled in at the garage when Olivia called me on the office phone. I could tell by the sound of her voice she was frantic, on the verge of hysteria, barely able to get the words out. “Hugo…” she’d begun. “I have reason to believe he’s on his way to Savannah by boat. In fact, he could be there right now.” I felt myself go light-headed for a moment as the implications sank in. I slammed down the receiver and raced to the ’Vette, leaving Sullivan to introduce himself to Huey. If he had his druthers, he’d probably choose to pass the time with the rapidly rotting Iban rather than the already rotted Huey. I’m not sure who smelled worse. But I wasn’t going to disobey William’s orders again by letting Sullivan escape. Especially not now. I locked the garage from the outside. On the way to the river I replayed the phone conversation with Olivia over and over in my mind. One of the missing spies whom they’d written off as dead had made her way back from Russia, severely damaged like the others. The spy had infiltrated Hugo ’s clan, but just when she thought they’d accepted her, they set a trap and tortured her till she spilled everything she knew about the Bonaventures—especially what she knew about William and me. “Did she tell them about the voodoo blood?” I asked Olivia. “No. She couldn’t tell them. She didn’t know,” Olivia had assured me. Thank God for small favors.

I stomped on the brakes as close to the dock as I could get, vaulted out of the convertible, and raced to William’s side. He was already standing in front of the damned ship. I had to get to him before they did, haul him aside or preferably away altogether. I couldn’t let him face this. Not until he was prepared. Not until I’d warned him. Not until I’d confessed. I made it to his side just as the cabin door opened and figures emerged onto the shadowy dock. Whatever we were in for, we were already outnumbered. “William—I have to tell you—” I froze in midsentence. The vampire I’d seen in my dream the night I was with Connie was standing with Werm on the other side of William. The punk-spiked reddish hair and the grisly scar at his throat were just like I’d seen in my dream—my prophetic dream, as it turned out. “You’re Hugo…?” I said, hoping to be wrong. He was grinning broadly toward the group of vampires on the boat. How in the name of hell had he slipped into Savannah without us knowing? One man stepped out in front of the group of vampires on deck. “No, mate, that’s Hugo,” the punked vamp said. “Captain Thorne, I presume,” Hugo said. He was tall and powerfully built. Golden hair hung to the collar of his long coat and he had a neatly trimmed reddish beard. He looked the way I’d always imagined a Viking would look, only cleaner and without the shield and bloody sword. This version felt a lot more dangerous than your average Thor. Crap. My dream had been completely wrong. That’s the trouble with prophecies. They’re harder to figure out than French movies with subtitles. “You have me at a disadvantage,” William said coolly. Even I could tell he didn’t mean it. “William, I—” I tried again. Not now, Jack, he said to my mind. “But—” In a booming voice, the vampire answered, “I’m Hugo. I’m certain you’ve heard my name before.” “I need to warn you,” I said, grabbing William’s arm. It’s a little late for that, don’t you think? William kept his attention on the stranger. “No, you don’t understand. It’s not him, it’s—” Hugo was approaching the gangplank. A woman, shielding her face with the hood of her cloak, stepped forward and followed him. Two humans stayed where they were on deck. The foolish hope I’d nursed on the breakneck ride over here—that she hadn’t come with him, that for some reason she’d stayed behind—shriveled and died. You know how time slows down in your dreams? And events happen you ’re powerless to stop because you’re paralyzed? You’re unable to speak, unable to move. You’re only able to watch in horror as your nightmare unfolds in slow motion, frame by agonizing frame. That was what was happening now. I couldn’t make myself speak. She took another step forward and the mist was back, just as in my dream of the punk vamp. It rose off the river like something alive and with its own mind. A security light on a pole above the dock shone down on her, forming an unholy halo around her head. The corona and her flowing cloak made her look like a Madonna in one of those Renaissance paintings.

“No, I don’t believe I have heard of you,” William lied. Evidently master vampires could lie to each other without fear of retribution. “No matter, my…friend.” Hugo waved his hand dismissively. “My home is on the other side of the world. Under normal circumstances our kin might never have met.” If William recognized the woman yet, he didn’t let on. “To what do we owe the honor of your visit, then?” He’d reverted to the old-fashioned form of speech he sometimes used with other really old blood drinkers. Hugo was on solid ground now. I could feel the tension in William as Hugo walked closer, hand extended. “I came as soon as I heard,” he answered, then smiled a feral smile, not bothering to hide his impressive set of fangs. His deep voice made me wonder what else he had an impressive set of. William shook hands with him. Although all seemed normal enough on the surface, even a mortal would’ve been able to pick up on the strain. This was what humans called a real tension convention. With my heightened perception, I felt like someone was busting up the sidewalk under my feet with a jackhammer. “Since you heard what?” William asked. My sire had always had the best poker face I’d ever seen and it didn’t desert him now. Hugo laughed like William had made a very funny private joke. He released William ’s hand and clasped his shoulder, briefly patting it in a gesture that looked like genuine affection. “Why, since I heard that some brave blood drinker of Reedrek’s bloodline had the courage and strength to vanquish him for all eternity,” he said. “To the good of us all.” “Should I assume he was your sire as well?” William carefully maintained his neutral expression. I noticed he used was rather than is. “How do you know what happened? Surely your psychic connection to your sire is not strong enough to communicate over so many thousands of miles.” Hugo chuckled again. “Yes, Reedrek was my sire as well. As to how I knew, let’s just say it’s a small world. What is it the humans say? Good news travels fast.” William forced a smile. “Indeed,” he said. “So you’re not here to avenge him?” Hugo’s booming laughter seemed scarier than his show of fang. “Heavens no. I came to make sure the old devil is truly dead.” Seeing an opening, I grabbed William by the shoulder again, but he shook me off. The other vampire ignored me and made a half turn toward the woman. His expression changed into something I can ’t describe other than to say it was evil and somehow… predatory. I tensed and felt William do the same. “I believe you know my mate,” Hugo said, and reached out to the woman in the cloak. The look of confusion on my sire’s face made something die inside my already dead heart. I could see all the progress we ’d made—him finally treating me more or less like an equal, us learning to trust each other after so many decades —going straight down the drain. “I’m sorry, William,” I said. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. Not like this.” He looked at me and blinked, still not understanding. It was too late to warn him now. I could only apologize and hope he killed me quick and didn’t make me linger. The woman stepped up beside Hugo and he encircled her with his arm as if she was his possession. She reached up with both hands and gently slid the cowl of the hood off of the back of her head to reveal the rich gold of her hair. I took in a deep, sharp breath. She looked just like I remembered her from my vision of the slaughter of William’s family. I shifted my attention to William’s face. I didn’t really want to see his reaction but it was like when you come upon a grisly car wreck while driving along, minding your own business. You don’t want to look because you know the sight will sicken you. But you can’t help it.

“Hello, Mother,” said the young one standing next to Werm, the one I’d hated on sight in my dream and hated even more now. He’d been in on this from the beginning. Then his words sank in and the rest of the story hit me like a thunderbolt. I remembered my most recent dream, the one where William had saved him from my ripping, tearing fangs. This one’s mine, William had said in the dream. I thought he’d meant to take the kill for himself but that wasn’t it. I want your life. I want your sire. They should have been mine, the punk had claimed before I’d beaten him to the pavement and William had saved him from my murderous rage. This was the blood of William’s mortal blood, not a product of his demonic nature, like me. This was William’s true son. No wonder I’d instinctively made him as such a threat to me and to my place in my world. I looked back and forth between the woman and the son. How much worse could this possibly get? No, don’t ask that, I chided myself. Call me a pessimist, but I’m a firm believer that there’s nothing so bad it can’t get any worse, especially where vampires are concerned. So much for poker faces. William’s face registered the total shock of a man whose world has just changed forever. More changes would ripple outward like the ringing echo of a hammer on steel. Me, Melaphia, and most of all, Eleanor would all suffer the shock waves from this revelation. “William,” the blond woman whispered, her eyes veiled as if to hide her true emotions from the vampire who had her in his grasp. “Diana,” William breathed.

Ten

William Humans have a ridiculous saying: What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. It’s a lie. What doesn’t kill you might just as easily make you wish you were dead. Or make you yearn to kill someone else. I’m a master at hiding my intentions and my feelings. But here, standing at the end of night staring at the face I ’d mourned for over five hundred years, I had no feelings to hide. Stunned is too modest a word, and vampires are rarely stymied by emotion. After all, killing is our business, our purpose, and our sport. In this case, however, my own weakness—the black hole of my long existence—literally paralyzed me. There was a great buzzing in my ears. If I could have raised my arm, I had no idea whether my numb fingers would draw Diana forward into an embrace or my fist would plunge into Hugo’s chest. My hands spasmed and I almost felt the weight and wetness of his heart as I squeezed it into pulp. Anger before love. Killing before…forgiving? Had Diana known about me for these centuries and stayed away? Did she blame me for— Will. Suddenly I couldn’t breathe. If I didn’t move I might simply collapse. The great rebel leader, William Thorne, killed by his own love…or hate. Impossible to separate them at the moment. From an infinite distance I heard myself speak. An amazing thing, that, since I would’ve sworn there was no air left in my frozen lungs. “I would advise you to stay on the ship today until we can make arrangements for you. I ’ll send word tomorrow after sunset.” Then I turned, put one foot in front of the other, and walked away. If Hugo or one of his kin had shoved a spear through my back at that moment, I would have thanked them. I felt and heard Jack trying to get my attention. I could barely focus on his face. He should’ve known better than to step in front of me. Surrounded by treachery on all fronts I lashed out, knocking him to the ground. “Live or die,” I snarled. “I don’t care. Stay away from me.”

I walked, tempted by the too easy solution of simply sitting down on a bench in the closest square and waiting for the sun. My son…alive. A blood drinker…like me. What horrific sin had I committed to merit this? What coincidence had brought him the fate he’d escaped as a boy? He’d grown to manhood and then—Reedrek must have gone back for him, completing the task of enslaving my entire family. Diana.

The sight of her had struck me dumb with joy. Joy that was immediately deadened by betrayal. I stumbled and had to stop for a moment and find a wall to support me. The monstrous flare of hate and anger inside me nearly drove me to the ground. Doubled over, I searched for air. The dank air of tombs and old bones filled my lungs, calling my name. I had to go on. To walk, to breathe. Otherwise I’d never know the final, bitter truth of all the ways Reedrek had won. The next time I took stock of my progress, I was standing outside the locked gates of Colonial. Three more blocks and I would be home. I would be— Eleanor’s worry touched my mind amid the chaos. I turned my head in her direction, but she seemed as remote to my existence as the moon. If I was truly cursed then all those around me were doomed as well. How could I ever touch Eleanor again when Diana— The vein of agony I’d patched and hidden opened, spilling forth. A wail rose in my throat and I had no strength to beat it back. Gripping the iron gates I looked toward the silent heaven and let out the howl of a dying wolf, a guttural sound of the drowning of all hope. Ancient pain blended with new in a sound so piercing no human ears could withstand it. I felt the iron bars of the fence bend under my hands. My family had just been murdered again in front of my eyes. The facts that they still lived, that I still lived, were sources of woe, not relief. My wail set free the caged animal I’d tamed for so long. Rational thought fled. Within the blink of an eye I vaulted the fence. Instead of hiding my existence, I would flaunt it. Fury drove me, first to the dead. I wanted to kill them all over again. Ghede, loa of the dead, indeed. No entreating ceremony, this. My hate needed purpose, warfare, destruction. This moldy home where the lucky dead rested in peace would be my first battleground. I took off my jacket and set it aside, then rolled up the sleeves of my shirt. The first tomb I saw belonged to John Martingale, Presbyterian minister, 1809 to 1862. I brought my fist down on the stone. “Wake up, old John. Fire, fear, foe! The devil has finally come for his due.” Within a few seconds the stone lay in shards on the grass. I reached inside and scrabbled among the dust until I found the unfortunate John’s skull. “Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. ” I tucked the skull under my arm and proceeded to the next grave marker. The sky was overcast with drizzling rain, but growing lighter. I could feel the nagging threat of sunrise under my skin by the time I reached the other side of the cemetery. Humans were stirring. Car lights reflected on the damp pavement: off to work, to the next day in the futile few years allotted to the living. I looked back once along the path of havoc I ’d wreaked on stone and earth and bones but felt little more than warmed up. With poor John’s skull in one hand, I made for the tunnels.

“Have I mentioned this city is mine?” I said, to the wary occupants of the nearest warmer-than-the-winter-air tunnel. I bowed to the three men and one woman, the hopeless and homeless taking shelter from the rain. “William Thorne, at your service. And this— ” I held up worthy John’s skull. “—is Mr. John Martingale, one of the illustrious former religious leaders of the city. ” I held the attention of all but one in the group, he being fast asleep. “I daresay brother John did more by living and dying than the four of you put together.” The single female of the group scooted back closer to the men. Better the devil you know…They were beginning to be afraid. Good. I moved closer and offered the skull to the smaller of the two males. “Would you hold this for a moment?” With the slow movement of a sleepwalker, or one who does not wish to believe his eyes, he nodded and took the dusty trophy of my cemetery war. As soon as it left my grip, I seized the other male by the throat, then clamped my free hand around the neck of the female. “Ta-ta, just now,” I said to the one left holding the skull. “Take good care of worthy John.”

I dragged the now-struggling unfortunates farther into the darkness of the tunnels to have my way with them, as it were. The simple life of a true-born vampire had eluded me for so long, weighed down as I was with conscience and remorse. Pain had freed me from those human concerns. I would kill and eat at will. The world be damned—like the rest of us. “This should be perfect,” I said. Dropping the female to gasp gulps of air on the tunnel floor, I bit deeply into the male with a hunger so ravenous that I nearly tore his head from his shoulders. Blood spurted into the air, splashing the wall behind him, my face, my chest. Damn. A waste of good blood. How had I let myself get so out of practice? As the last few beats of his heart pumped, I sucked in what remained. Then I dropped him to the floor and went for my second course. She’d crawled a few feet in some remote hope of getting away from me. “Not possible, my dear,” I said, sitting next to her and lifting her into my lap. I wouldn’t waste this one. “I will have your life. Consider yourself lucky that I don’t want your soul as well.” She stilled at my words and a tiny shaft of admiration struck me. It seemed that dying would be less humiliation than living had been. She whimpered when my fangs penetrated her neck, but she didn’t cry out. How could any mere mortal, or immortal for that matter, man ever divine the workings of a woman’s mind or heart? I closed my heart to the images bombarding me. Tilly as a lovely young woman, Olivia in her leather, Eleanor in her gypsy glory…and Diana. As my victim drew in a final gasp of air, I felt her spirit slip away. In those seconds, my grief overtook me. I realized that this poor hapless victim was free, while I remained trapped, forever it seemed, in my own personal maze of torture. By God, I defy you to stop me now. As the feeding rush mixed with the rising of the sun beyond the tunnels took me over, I leaned my head back and remembered no more.

Jack I lay on my back, looking up at the night sky and wishing I didn’t ever have to get up again but could stay here until the sun rose and burned me to ashes. My head rang with William’s blow and his words rattled around in my brain like a steel pellet in a pinball machine. My sire didn’t care if I lived or died as long as I got out of his sight. That hurt a helluva lot worse than my chin. When I sat up a few seconds later, he was gone. Instead I saw that little punk bastard—Will, his name was—smirking at me. He said, “Big, bad Dad showed you, now didn’t he?” “Mind yourself, boy,” Hugo said. “We are visitors here. Guests, if I may be so presumptuous. Our arrival is bound to provoke some anxiety, unannounced as it was.” “Yeah,” I said, rubbing my chin or what was left of it. “You could say that.” And they said I had a gift for understatement. Hugo said, “William and I have much to discuss when he masters his emotions. He needs some time to reconcile himself to new realities. It will be difficult for him at first.” No thanks to you. I wanted to take a swing at the guy for the way he sprang Diana’s existence on William, but my hands were not exactly clean on that score either, so I stifled the impulse. “That’s very…understanding of you.” I figured I might as well be as diplomatic as possible since I was outnumbered. I couldn’t even count on Werm to be on my side in a fight. Evidently Will was his new bosom buddy. Right now Werm looked as bewildered as anybody. “Werm, why don’t you get on home now?” I said, and jerked my head in the direction of his parents’ house. With everything else I had on my mind, I didn’t want to have to worry about his safety around these new vamps. “He’s with me now, aren’t you, mate?” Will put his arm around Werm’s shoulder and squeezed him hard enough to make him wince. Werm looked at me with that deer-in-the-headlights expression he got whenever he was in something over his head. I took a step forward and squared up. Outnumbered or not, I’d take this guy on before I’d let him hurt the little guy. “I said, he’s

going home. And you’re going back on that boat like William said. Now.” “Come along, Will,” Hugo said. “Jack, tell William we’ll do as we’ve been asked and make that splendid vessel our homeaway-from-home for one more day.” “I’ll tell him,” I said. With another belligerent sneer, Will turned and walked back up the gangplank with that arrogant, bouncy step of his. Hugo turned to offer his arm to his lady. Diana had gathered the edges of her cowl back together with one hand to hide her face again. I could only see her eyes, but they were unreadable. When they all were inside the living quarters of the boat, I thought about how I’d blown up one of William’s other yachts to keep a vampire execution on the down-low from the authorities. The Alabaster had been a mighty fine boat, and I hated having to destroy it. But I’d love to blow this one up, no matter how pretty it was. That would certainly solve the Hugo problem. And if I stayed onboard and blew myself up with it, that would sure enough get rid of the Jack-William problem, too. I was tempted to do just that. William. Where the hell was he? I didn’t dare call out to him. I could only guess his state of mind. Why hadn’t I followed my first instinct and told him what Olivia said about Diana being alive? But every time I looked at him and Eleanor, like at the voodoo lesson, I just didn’t have the heart. Hell, I was a vampire. I wasn’t even supposed to have a heart. I looked at the boat and hung my head. They were bound to have a monster-size case of cabin fever after crossing the Atlantic. Taking bets on them staying indoors after my back was turned would have been stupid is as stupid does. There was only one way to get right with my sire again, if that was even possible. I had to protect his city. But how, outnumbered as I was? I looked up at the gloomy sky and against the dim light of the moon I saw a cloud in the shape of an old man with a cane.

I remembered that I’d left my business cell phone in my glove box and mercifully, the battery still worked. On the way to Colonial, I called to check in with Deylaud. “D, is William back yet?” “No, Jack, I haven’t seen him,” the manimal said. “Do you wish to speak to Eleanor?” A fresh wave of panic hit me at the mention of her name. “No!” I said a little too loudly. “Look, has Gerard gotten there yet?” “Yes. He arrived here through the tunnel entrance with a pushcart of medical equipment a short while ago. He just got off the phone with the vampires out at the plantation. I’ll put him on.” When Gerard took the line I said, “What’s the latest?” “I found everything I need at the blood bank and brought back equipment and supplies. I still need time to study these blood samples, but under the microscope this virus looks very aggressive.” Yeah, you could say that. I thought about Iban’s melting face. “Listen, another crapfest has just hit the fan.” I told him about Hugo’s arrival, skipping the part about William’s mortal wife being onboard. I figured I’d keep that little secret on a need-to-know basis for now. “He says he’s here to make sure Reedrek is dead.” “Mon dieu,” Gerard said. “What do you want me to do?” “You’ve got your hands full with the virus. Just keep doing what you’re doing. I’ll go to the plantation and warn the others and

let you know what we decide. In the meantime, I’ve got a plan to keep Hugo and his little family in line at least temporarily. ” I didn’t add that I had no idea if it would work. “I had hoped to ask Tobey and Travis to return west as soon as possible, ” Gerard said, “to investigate the outbreak in California, but it sounds as if you may need them here if conflict breaks out.” I sighed. Damn, we were stretched thin. I couldn’t very well insist that Travis and Tobey stay in Savannah to fight by my side when the entire New World vampire race was in danger from some vamp virus. “I’ll tell them you need for them to go back,” I said. I was unhappy at the thought of Tobey leaving so soon. He and I had planned to take in a little night racing while he was here. Maybe even do some ourselves. I’d also wanted to talk to Travis some more and see what else I could learn about the Maya. All those plans were up in smoke now that Hugo had pulled into town. A new and disturbing thought hit me. “Hey, Gerry,” I said. “Do you think Hugo can communicate with Reedrek through the eight feet of marble he’s encased in?” “It’s possible, I suppose, since Reedrek is Hugo’s sire. Why? Do you believe Hugo’s excuse for being in Savannah is false?” “I think we should assume he’s lying.” “Yes,” Gerard agreed. “It’s very easy for Hugo to say he came over to make sure Reedrek has been neutralized. All the more reason to watch him carefully. William can read a creature’s intentions as well as any blood drinker I’ve ever seen. He’ll be able to guide us in how to handle this Hugo.” If William didn’t stake himself first. “Yeah. Good point.” “Godspeed, my friend,” Gerard said. “I will probably have to work through the day tomorrow trying to identify this virus, so I must go. Be careful.” “I will. Since you’ll be up anyway, do me a favor and fill Melaphia in on what’s happening when she gets to William’s tomorrow morning. And warn her that William is going to be a tad…agitated.” Gerard agreed and I hung up. By that time, I was at Colonial cemetery. I roared to a stop by the curb, got out, and vaulted the wrought-iron fence.

The dead beneath my feet were in an uproar. I could usually walk through this cemetery and hear murmurs from the unquiet souls—soft greetings, invitations to sit a spell. Nothing more urgent than whispered supplications from those who didn ’t realize it was long past too late to tend to their unfinished business, whatever it had been. Right now they were more than just restless; they were roiling underneath me. And just as disturbing, the scent of William’s anger hung in the misty air. Even before I reached his busted headstone, I could hear the sorrowful moans of Gerald Hollis Jennings, my friend. Well, as much as you can make a friend out of a guy who’s been nothing but a pile of bones since before we’d met. Jennings went on to his reward as a victim of galloping consumption a couple of hundred years ago, or so he’d said the first time I visited him. His soul had always been quiet, so he was a good listener. But tonight, he was the one doing the talking. “John Martingale!” Jennings said. The mist in front of me gathered itself together until I could make out some eyeholes in a filmy face. Jennings had never materialized for me before in all the time I’d known him. “Say who?” I inquired. “Over there.” Jennings coalesced a hand out of the smoky fog—now, that was quite a trick right there—and pointed to a spot a

few feet away. I knelt beside a pile of dust and bone. “What happened here?” Other spirits hovered close by among the headstones. “It was William, your sire,” Jennings said. “He relieved John of his skull, poor old sod.” “He busted these headstones, too?” The spirits started to babble in unison. “Yes,” Jennings said. “What has gotten into him?” “We’ve got trouble.” As carefully as I could, I gathered up a double handful of the bigger chunks of John ’s scattered bones. Least I could do since William’s rampage was partially my fault. I reached down into the gravehole near where the pieces had lain and dropped them back in. “There are some evil blood drinkers in town.” I looked around at the other broken monuments. “Uh, even more evil than William…and me.” I felt the spirits gather around me. If I’d been human, every hair on my body would have been standing on end and I would’ve been shinnying up the nearest live oak to put some distance between me and the ghosts. But I wasn’t human, and I considered them kindred spirits. So to speak. “I need your help,” I said. “Can you guys travel?”

I raced back across town with the top down so I could make my prayers to Loa Legba. I was real serious this time, believe me. I didn’t want to turn Savannah into zombie-town with a whole graveyard full of walking corpses. I just wanted to surround Hugo and the Windward with some kind of mojo that would keep the European vamps on the boat and away from the citizenry. Of course, like a lot of my plans, there was always the possibility to make things a whole lot worse. But I had to take the chance. Sure, there were only three bad vamps, but they were old and powerful. Because of the way sexual power works among vampires, the woman might even be the strongest. Right now the Bonaventures in Savannah outnumbered them, but for all I knew, there might be more on the ship I couldn’t sense. Besides, all the good-guy bloodsuckers were tied up trying to keep Iban undead. In any case, especially with William being all wonky and unreliable, I wasn’t leaving anything to chance. “Hello, Mr. Legba,” I said. “It’s me, Jack, and I haven’t been drinking this time. Sorry for that first ceremony with the zombie and everything. And I don’t have any presents for you tonight except the promise to take you and your power seriously from now on. Anyway, I have a big favor to ask…” Having learned my lesson, I was real specific about what I wanted. First I needed to get the spirits to the docks —and I didn’t know if that was even possible—and then they had to guard that boat and put a whammy to any bloodsucker hankering for some excitement. When I got to the docks for the second time that night, I saw Will lounging on the deck smoking a cigarette. When he saw me he sashayed down the gangplank as pretty as you please, just like he meant to go out on the town. There was no sign of my otherworldly help. Damn. I was going to have to take him on myself. I hopped out of the car and, as I did, something brushed by my shoulder. Damned if it wasn ’t a shade parade: spooks and specters, phantoms, ghosts, wraiths, whatever you want to call ’em and in all shapes and sizes. They sauntered and shambled, crawled and floated. It was a mangylooking lot but so angry they nearly scared the hell out of me—and me a demon with a mouth full of fangs. There had to be at least a thousand of them. Some looked like they must’ve when they were buried in their colonial-era finery. Others were shapeless and insubstantial as the fog coming off the river. I thought I saw a couple of demons I couldn ’t even identify. It was a real, live—make that dead—army of darkness. But this was no Bruce Campbell movie. I turned back to Will just in time to see the cigarette fall out of the corner of his mouth onto the ground. He gave me a sour look, then he turned fang, back to the safety of the cabin. Good choice.

The dead watchers formed a circle several layers deep around the boat and hovered over the river, standing guard. I didn ’t know what they would do if Will and the others tried to cross them, and I didn’t care, as long as it hurt a good bit. I looked up at the stars and saluted the Loa Legba before hopping back into the convertible for the drive to the plantation. The sun would be up soon and my work for the night still wasn’t finished.

I got to the plantation just as the other vamps were about to go to their coffins. Lucius had evidently decided to stay there but had sent his people back to Isle of Hope. I walked into the main parlor and got right down to brass tacks. “It’s on,” I said. “What do you mean?” Lucius asked. “Hugo and his family are here. They commandeered one of William’s yachts in Ireland and just floated across the Atlantic and on up the river like the Queen freakin’ Mary. They agreed to stay on the boat until tomorrow night. I have them under guard. Hugo came off real friendly and claims that he only came into town to see for himself that Reedrek is dead.” “Bah!” Lucius said. “He’s come to destroy us. You’re right, the war is on.” “I think we have to assume that,” Tobey agreed. “Yes,” Travis said. “From everything the young woman in the hologram said, we must conclude he’s bent on our destruction. What are their numbers?” “I saw three,” I said. “There may be more in the hold of the ship.” I ran my hand through my hair. “Has William been here?” Tobey shook his head. “How are we going to deal with the virus and this too? What’s the plan, Jack?” “All I know is Gerard wants you two westerners to go and investigate what happened at the California colony.” “Are you sure that’s a good idea? They’re already dead. Wouldn’t we be of more use here?” Travis asked. “Gerard must believe the virus is a greater threat than Hugo,” Lucius said. “I think Lucius is right,” I said, hating to admit it. “Talk to Gerard before you leave. He might be able to tell you what to do to keep from getting sick.” “Not that we’re all not exposed already,” Tobey observed. “Speaking of that,” Lucius said to me, “I’ll stay and fight with you and William, but I insist on sending my people home. They have to be near my other family so they can take care of one another if they sicken.” “Suit yourself,” I said. “There’s not much more we can do tonight. The sun’s almost up.” “Where is William?” Tobey asked. I just looked at him and shrugged. Weariness was about to overtake me; my eyelids itched at the feel of the approaching sun. But I had one more thing to do before I collapsed into one of the spare coffins in the basement for my beauty sleep: I had to check back in with Olivia.

“Thank God you called, Jack,” she said. “I’ve been frantic with worry. What’s happening there?”

I filled her in on the arrival of Hugo and company. When I told her about William’s reaction, I heard her swallow back a sob. “What did you expect?” I growled. “You knew he was bound to find out sooner or later. And now I’m the one at the top of his shit list. Be glad there’s an ocean between you and him. And an ocean between you and me, for that matter.” “I’m sorry, Jack, I truly am. But I thought it would buy us some time. I thought it was for William’s own protection. And yours.” I sighed. It was all blood under the bridge now. “I need to know anything else your spy had to say about Hugo’s clan when she finally made her way back to you. Is there anything she told you that can help us if these guys turn nasty?” “Turn nasty?” Olivia laughed bitterly. “It’s impossible to describe how savage these blood drinkers are. Our little Violet was bitten so badly that her flesh may never heal no matter how much human blood she consumes. We may still lose her. The fang marks are from those of many different vampires.” Olivia’s words choked off. When she began again, her voice was raspy. “They took turns with her.” I shuddered. “Put her on the phone. I’ve gotta ask her some questions. Anything she can tell me about this guy and his people could help us over here.” “I can’t, Jack. She lost consciousness shortly after she arrived. It took her last ounce of strength just to make it back to us, and her condition is still grave. We’re feeding her blood right now, but she still might not make it.” Olivia sobbed again, and I couldn’t help feeling sorry for her despite the hell she was putting me through. Not to mention what she’d done to William. “Okay. Before I go, did she tell you anything else before she passed out? Like who he travels with? What games they like to play? Any plans she might have overheard?” “Yes,” Olivia said. “Besides her warning that Hugo and his clan were on the way to the New World, she did say one thing.” “Well?” I asked impatiently. “What?” I heard Olivia draw a deep, shaky breath. “She said, Beware of the female. She’s the most dangerous of them all.”

William I dreamed of Derbyshire and my wedding day. On the fifth of September, the year of our lord 1517, I was to marry the lovely Diana Bellingham, whom I’d loved since I’d first clapped eyes on her two summers before whilst visiting her father’s manse. Lucky thing, that. On awakening that September morning, I was sure I should be accounted the happiest man in England. Even if I’d had nothing else but love, the signs were propitious for me to have a very warm…winter. A slip of a girl she was then—she seemed a golden sprite from the lands of faery. And I, an older man of twenty, had great plans for our union, as did our parents. All agreed we were a match made in heaven. Exactly when had it gone to hell? Not then, not that day, nor the eleven years of days thereafter. The dreaming part of me watched as Diana, her face and goldspun hair glowing in the sunlight, recited the vows. From the moment she placed her hand in mine and I slipped the heavy gold ring onto her finger, I was her happy prisoner. And for every joy I brought her, she repaid me with two. The dream then took a torturous path to our wedding night and the aforementioned warm bed. The vision was so real I could feel her heated breath on my neck. “Teach me how to please you,” she’d whispered shyly. “I wish to have many babies and Mary has said we must be much abed to do so.” Much abed. “There’s more to it than being on your back,” I answered with a laugh.

She rolled until her arms were propped on my chest. Refusing to disguise her eagerness, she said, “Then show me all. I’m yours—my heart and the rest of me. I wish to make you proud of your wife.” “Let us be about it, then, wench. Kiss your husband.” I covered her mouth with my own and teased her lips apart. Kiss after kiss she opened to me in all ways. When I made the final push to take her maidenhead she gasped and I held myself still. With an expression more serious than any I’d seen, she framed my face with her hands and gazed into my eyes. “I’ll love you till death takes me,” she swore. For one unmanning moment I felt my eyes burn at her declaration. “And I you,” I answered. Then she was mine, inside and out. Doing my best not to hurt her, I plunged into her, reining in my eagerness. Even as I felt my seed rise I fought the natural ending to our bond. But then the pure animal pleasure overtook me and the shudders of completion rocked my body. In the aftermath I lay sprawled over her and could feel the gentle, soothing touch of her fingers on my neck. Truth be told she taught me a few things—not skills, for she’d been innocent, but more the pure intention to satisfy. I smiled, face pressed into the bedclothes. This, then, is what heaven must be like. Thank you, Lord, for Diana— Just then I felt hands on my shoulders roughly pulling me away. Diana’s scream of surprise stiffened my spine. I spun, ready to fight, and found Reedrek’s evil face and next to him, a grinning Hugo. The dream had shifted from heaven to hell, from beginning to end, as dreams are wont to do. I awoke with a start. In the current world, time had passed, the sun had come and gone. As I glanced around, wildly looking for Diana, I came to myself realizing I ’d returned to my own private hell. Back in the dark of the tunnels, alone except for the dead humans scattered around me. What does not kill you, makes you stronger. I pushed the closest body away and stood to dust off my clothes. A hopeless cause, the same as all others. The clothes were ruined and smelled of death, new death and old. No matter. My fastidious nature seemed laughable at this point. Whom was I trying to impress? Humans? Diana—now mated to Hugo? I suppose she had loved me until she died, that much was true. But I, the perfect fool, had gone on loving her beyond death.

Back at the harbor by early evening, I found the area hushed and cold. The cool winter rain of the evening before had passed, but the air smelled wet with the promise of more. Low, scuttling clouds carrying the scent of the marshes hid any trace of the moon. A perfect night for vampires, for death. For me. Leaning on the fender of my Mercedes, wearing fresh clothes, I had come for all or nothing. In the end I’d gone to Tilly’s to clean up, nearly giving her a heart seizure in the process. It was one thing for her to deal with Iban’s suffering, but mine was a new and obviously upsetting thing to her. It might have been the look of utter despair and open warfare on my face. Or it could simply have been the quantity of blood I wore like a butcher’s apron. Despite all our years of association I was sure these last few nights must have been mind-boggling to her. But I had no energy left for explanations, not even to Iban, who lay dying cell by rotting cell. He’d blinked his one good eye when I entered the room. His strong, aristocratic features were almost unrecognizable thanks to the battle being waged between the virulent rot and Iban’s natural vampiric healing process. Hunks of flesh were alternately falling

off and growing back. “Get away…Go home,” he’d whispered. He didn’t know about the newcomers and had no idea what changes they had wrought on our plans, and I had no heart to enlighten him. Let him rot in peace. But I could not go home. Not yet, perhaps not ever. Eleanor’s distress was palpable now, a constant presence in my mind, and even Melaphia had taken to mentally communicating her worry to me. She pleaded for answers, plans, and offered her help even as she’d gathered clothes from my closet, including the voodoo blue coat she’d blessed with her mortal magic, and had them delivered to Tilly’s. As I slipped the jacket over a crisp, unbloodied new shirt I found her note in the pocket. She was never one to be put off long, not when there was any available means to get my attention. Captain, the note read simply, you are not alone. Ah Mel, but I am. More alone than ever because now I know what I’ve been denied for five hundred years—not by God or even Reedrek, but by the other half of my own heart. By my wife. My love for her, even perverted by our transformation, had survived. But she had chosen to deny me. And my son… As though I’d called his name, the hatch of the Windward rose and Will stepped up from below. Immediately, a high-pitched keening filled the air, and Will ducked and swung at an indistinct blur of the coalesced mist that bedeviled him. These low-flying clouds seemed to have spirits in the eddies. It was those spirits howled in the wind, and they circled the Windward like any number of enraged hornets—ready to sting. Amusing to watch but, in the scheme of things, rather ineffective against immortal beings. Still, it did convey a distinct lack of welcome. Master Jack, one of them whispered as it wafted by me on the breeze. Ah, so this was Jack’s doing. Well, best he be about defending Savannah, since his immortal skin was on the line as well. He might or might not have a sire out for his punishment, but he certainly would fall along with the other New World vampires if the double fronts of plague and invasion succeeded. I told myself I didn’t care. He’d shown his true colors with more lies and dishonesty. This time I would not be understanding or offer a reprieve. He wanted to be the master of his own destiny, so be it. I had my own dilemmas to solve. “I thought the great rebel leader, William Thorne, would be three meters tall at least,” Will taunted. I pushed away from the car and walked toward him. Ah, anger. A chip off the old block, as they say. “I thought you’d be dust.” He cocked his head. “What could you possibly know about me?” “Oh, I know quite a lot, having been present at your conception and—” “That’s a lie—Hugo made me, and I—” “Careful.” A voice from below stopped him. Diana’s voice reminding him I was the enemy. Well, at least she had not killed him and made him a blood drinker herself. And neither had Reedrek. I had Hugo to thank for stealing my son ’s mortal soul. Another mark I would make him account for. Hugo appeared at Will’s side with Diana following. She kept her attention on Will, refusing even to look in my direction. I could hear an indecipherable flurry of thoughts rushing from one to the other. “The accommodations on your ship are first class, but I’m heartily tired of such close quarters. You must know that certain… pleasures demand a bit of privacy, eh?” Hugo said. He waited a beat for my reaction, then went on, “What sort of place is this Savannah? Are there houses to let?” “You make it sound as though you plan to stay.”

“Only if we are welcome,” he replied. He put a hand on Will’s shoulder and drew Diana close to his side with his other arm. They looked quite the family, Hugo with his Norse coloring, Diana in her golden beauty, and Will, his red-gold Saxon hair marking his heritage. I could see nothing of me in him beside the expression in his angry green eyes. “What is your purpose here?” “Family business, you might say. I told you I intend to see Reedrek finished. If you’ve managed to kill him, I would know it.” He lowered his chin as his gaze bore into mine. “When I see for myself, I’ll leave.” “Your declaration begins to sound like a threat.” Hugo smiled. “Not in the least. We are brothers, after all—” His arm tightened on Diana. “—more alike than different. I have no intention of treading on your goodwill, any more than I already have.” My goodwill. It isn’t very often that an idea materializes in my head and exits my mouth before I think. But it happened then. “I’ll accommodate your group but you’ll leave the boy with me.” Diana made a small sound of shock or dismay; to be honest her reaction tasted sweet to my parched sensibilities. “Who are you calling a boy?” Will sputtered. I ignored him and went on, “That way you’ll have no distractions from your pleasure, and I’ll have a living, breathing guarantee of your peaceful intent.” “Done,” Hugo replied, his fingers giving Will’s shoulder a warning squeeze. I could pick up nothing of Hugo’s emotion over what I might do to his offspring…his adopted son. “Stay out of trouble,” he ordered before loosening his fingers and giving Will a slight shove forward. “Wait.” Diana’s voice sent a frisson of pleasure through me. I fought the lure as she pressed something into Will’s hand, pushed past him, and made her way toward me. A few seconds later she was within arms’ reach, wary but resolute. And so very beautiful. It took an enormous effort on my part not to touch her. She smelled more of Hugo than of herself. Close quarters, indeed. “He doesn’t know,” she whispered, so low I myself could barely hear. “Know what?” I managed, trying desperately not to make a fool of myself. “That you are his…” She blinked as though even she couldn’t believe we were actually speaking after all this time. “His natural father.” There it was. Not only had I been purged from his life, but my memory had not been celebrated. Anger warmed my belly, chasing all joy of this long-dreamed-of encounter into thin, sodden air. “I would account that his loss,” I answered. “So would I.” Insincere laughter boiled up inside me, steeped in anger, not joy. With a smile still on my face, I looked past my lying bitch of a wife and motioned to her son. “Come, and make it quick. I have arrangements to settle.” To Hugo I said, “Stay here. I’ll send someone for you and…yours.”

Eleven

Jack Talk about your strange bedfellows. Sullivan, the hip Hollywood screenwriter, and Huey, the stinky redneck zombie, were like two peas in a supernatural pod. I’m sure there was a period of adjustment when I dropped the Californian off the night before without so much as an introduction to the walking corpse. But I guess if you ’re used to rubbing elbows with the living dead like Sullivan was, you were prepared for almost anything. By the time I got to the garage from the plantation house where I ’d spent the day, the regular card game was in full swing. Sullivan had tried to advise Huey on the finer points of Texas Hold ’Em, but evidently he gave up when he’d realized the little fellow didn’t have the guile to understand bluffing or the unrotted brain capacity to understand, well, much of anything for that matter. Sullivan walked over to me, leaving the irregulars to their game. “Any word about Iban?” I shook my head. “Not a thing. Maybe no news is good news.” The human forced a smile. “Let’s hope you’re right.” Every time I felt like putting the bite on this guy, he did something to redeem himself. Iban and Huey were two of my favorite people, and Sullivan had been kind to Huey and was clearly devoted to Iban. Still, I couldn’t get the image from the other night of him and Connie off my mind. What if he’d exposed her to the California virus? “So why’d you break up with her?” he asked, right out of the blue. He was direct. I liked that. I think. It was worrisome, though, that right behind Iban ’s illness, Connie was the first thing on his mind. “It’s complicated,” I said. “Seriously. Vampires have affairs with humans all the time. And you clearly care for each other. I can tell from Connie ’s hints. What’s the problem?” So Sullivan was just as curious about Connie’s relationship with me as I was about her relationship with him. Maybe he wanted to know if I was really out of the picture or if I could still be an obstacle. “Like I said, it’s complicated. So, what about the two of you? How…close are you?” “You know a gentleman never kisses and tells, Jack. Ask Connie that question. See what she says.” My sudden fury painted everything in my sight with a red tinge that meant my pupils had dilated and the whites had gone bloodshot. The horrific sight of it was reflected in Sullivan ’s expression. When a vampire sees red, he literally sees red. Sullivan knew he was looking into the eyes of a predator, and he was ready to run. As if that would do him any good. My hand was on his throat in less than a hair’s breadth of a second. If Sullivan had been able to see the move at all, it would’ve only been a momentary blur before he felt the steellike vise of my fingers on his windpipe. “Listen to me,” I said quietly, so as to not alarm the card players. “If you’ve exposed Connie to whatever it is that Iban brought

here from California, I’ll eat you alive and spit out your bones. Is that clear?” “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. I swear it,” Sullivan choked. Luckily for him, William stepped into the garage at that instant. Will was slouching along three steps behind him. William came straight for me, and, given that my last contact with him had been when he laid me out on the ground, I nerved myself up for another pummeling. All movement and chatter at the card table stopped. The boys were terrified of William even when he was in a jolly mood, so it didn’t take them long to observe that he was pissed and to size up the badass sauntering along behind him. They cleared out like the devil and all his spawn were after them. When Huey didn’t react quick enough, Rennie came back, took him by the hand, and led him away. Huey went, still protesting that he had two pair, kings high. “Shit, Huey, you never have anything better than two pair,” Rennie hissed. “Come with me before somebody puts you back in your Corsica and locks the door.” Sullivan rubbed his throat where I’d released my grip. “William, how is Iban? Is he—” William shook his head quickly and firmly, and Sullivan took the hint. We couldn’t let Will find out about the virus and tell Hugo until we knew what they’d really come for. “Sullivan, this is Will. From Hugo’s clan,” I said by way of introduction and explanation. “Oh,” Sullivan said, studying the red-haired vampire. “Do you work in the movie business, by chance? You look familiar to me.” Will shrugged and showed fang. “No. I can’t feature why you’d know me. I don’t hang out with humans…much.” William looked at me with such coldness I almost shivered. He jerked his head toward the kitchen area to indicate he wanted to speak with me alone. Once we were out of earshot of Will’s vampiric hearing, I said, “William, I want to explain. I tried to—” “Save it,” he said. “If we survive, there will be time to discuss your betrayal and an eternity for me to deal with you.” William opened his mind, and with a rush of horror I saw the vampires he’d lately told me about that were tortured by Reedrek and his kind. Then the scene changed and I saw what William himself had done last night in the tunnels. He’d killed innocents. The shock I felt went as deep as the borrowed blood that animated me. The knowledge of Diana and Will’s existence and my betrayal had changed William in a horrifying and fundamental way. God help me. God—somebody—help us all. The visions disappeared as quickly as he’d forced them on me. “Make no mistake: I no longer trust you, but for now you can still be of use. My advice to you is to do what you’re told from now on, or on my word you will never see Melaphia and Renee again.” I felt like he’d knocked me to the ground again, only worse. He knew how to go right to my greatest weakness—the humans I love. “Here are your instructions,” William continued. “Make arrangements for the transportation of Hugo and Diana and their coffins to the plantation house. Their human hangers-on are to stay on the ship. You may release the spirits guarding them back to their resting places. Now that I have Will as collateral, I’m confident Hugo will keep the others under control and out of trouble. He seems a very possessive sort. After that, take Lucius and hunt, both of you.” He held up a hand to stop my protest. “I just spoke with Gerard by phone. He says we must all strengthen ourselves as much as possible against the virus, and that means feeding on humans.” “But what if I can’t stop Lucius from killing?” My mind swam with the images of William attacking the beggars in the tunnels, and with the horror of knowing that, as far as innocents were concerned, he no longer cared. “That, my human-loving friend, is your problem,” he said, his green eyes alive with cold fury. “I’ll be hunting with my son.”

A fresh pang of jealousy gripped the place where my heart should beat. His son. To mortal eyes, William and I looked to be the same age, since we were about the same human age when we were made into blood drinkers centuries apart. But in every sense that mattered, he was my father. He was more of a father than my mortal sire had been. I remembered William teaching me to hunt humans. He ’d patiently showed me how to feed on mortals, either draining them quickly and painlessly or sucking their life-giving blood only to the point where I could feel their pulse beat in my ears, then using the force of my will to stop drinking, seal the wound in their throats with my tongue, and wipe their memories of me clean with my mind. Now he was killing unprovoked, the deaths unjustified by mortal evil. How much of that was my fault? And how much would the presence of his real, mortal, and, in my eyes, evil son further corrupt his mind? William might be past caring about his moral compass—the closest thing to a soul we had left—but I wasn’t. I had to at least try to warn him. “William, do you really know what Will is capable of?” Once again, he put his hand up to silence me. “Don’t you dare. Not you. Not after what you’ve done. Do you think for a moment I would listen to you criticize Will after your deceitfulness? Now, mark well the rest of your instructions.” He glanced back at Will, who’d turned his back on Sullivan and was feigning interest in the engine under the hood of a black Lexus in the farthest bay. “Will doesn’t know I’m his mortal father,” William said. I couldn’t miss the bitterness in his voice. “Why?” My sire silenced me this time with just a glare. “I will choose the time and place of that revelation. Am I clear?” I nodded. Just when I thought my spirits couldn’t sink lower, I saw Melaphia and Renee come through the door. The idea of them sharing the same space with Will twisted my gut, especially when Will raised his head and sniffed the air, smelling the presence of humans. “William!” Melaphia rushed toward him and flung her arms around his shoulders. “I was so worried when you didn’t come home this morning,” she said. As sensitive as I was to Mel’s feelings, I could tell she was relieved at seeing William safe, but not relieved enough. Something still troubled her deeply, and William knew all about it. “I spoke with Gerard just now,” he said. “Probably while you were on the way over here.” Jack, leave us. William closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, he’d plastered a pleasant smile on his face. It was an effort, you could tell. He bent down to speak to Renee. “Hello, darling,” he said to her, taking her face briefly in his hands. “I haven’t seen you in many nights. I do believe you’ve grown a foot.” Renee giggled and planted a kiss on his cheek. “No, not that much,” she said. “It hasn’t been long, anyway. It’s been less than a week.” “It only seems long,” William murmured. “When your company goes home can we go night-walking?” “If it’s not on a school night, yes. But right now, I want you to go with your uncle Jack. I have to speak to your mother.” “Okay,” she said, and took me by the hand. The warm grip of her tiny hand on my cold fingers made me want to weep, I was so afraid for her. I felt that the cozy little world we’d created for her was teetering on the edge of an abyss. I led her toward the card table, leaving William and Melaphia to huddle together. Renee said she’d already met Sullivan, who forced a smile and wave for her and resumed his pacing. Will appeared in front of us by the time we reached the table. “Well, hello, love. Aren’t you the little beauty, then?” The vampire gave her a dazzling smile, without a hint of fang. His cheeks displayed impressive dimples below strong cheekbones. Could this guy turn on the charm or what? Renee released my hand, beaming. I was afraid for a minute that she might jump into

his arms. She’d never been taught to be afraid of vampires, though she could recognize them as well as I could. “This is Will,” I said, trying to sound as normal as possible. There was no sense scaring her now. I knew as well as I knew my own name that as soon as they left this building, William would tell Will in no uncertain terms that Melaphia and her daughter were not to be harmed. “Do you know how to play Old Maid with regular cards?” Renee asked Will. “No, but I’ll wager you could teach me.” Will sat in the chair opposite Renee, who began gathering up the cards. Every instinct told me to haul Will up by the scruff of his neck and kick his ass out, but I knew he wouldn ’t hurt her right here in front of God and everybody. Still, my hands twitched with the need to get him out of Renee ’s sight. I forced down the urge to kill and instead got the spare cell phone out of my back pocket and stepped away from the table, leaving them to their game. I called a buddy of mine who contracted with me to maintain his fleet of limousines. He was delighted to send one to the docks in the middle of the night for double his usual rate. He was cool with sending a truck for the coffins, too, when I told him they were expensive antiques. When enough money changed hands, people didn’t ask a lot of questions. I next dialed Werm’s cell phone. “Yeah?” he answered. “Where are you?” “At home, just like you told me. What’s going on?” “I need you to go out to that boat where Hugo’s people are staying. I have a circle of spirits around it to keep them put, but William’s got the situation covered, so I want you to go and release them. Humans are coming to move the tourists and I don ’t want to scare the crap out of ’em.” “How do I release them? I don’t have your way with the dead.” “Say a prayer to Legba. Thank him very kindly, offer him a bottle of that expensive wine in your old man ’s wine cellar, and tell him to send the haints home.” “Uh, I don’t know, Jack. Sounds kinda scary.” “Buck up, badass! Be a vampire! Besides, there’s a reward.” “What?” Now I had his attention. I sighed, exasperated. “If you do that for me, you have my permission to prey on humans. Not to kill them. Just to drink from them until you hear the heartbeat, like I’ve explained. And then seal the wound. Got it?” “Yeah, you bet!” I could hear the excitement in his voice. “There’s a couple of guys over at the mall I’d like to scare. I’ll check in with you later.” I hung up. Satan save me from fledgling vampires. After I spoke to Werm, I called William’s number and Deylaud answered. “William wants two of the visitors put up at the plantation. I need you to send a load of blood out there.” “Do you want me to send the good stuff?” he asked dutifully. “Hell, no,” I said. “Make it bovine or even swine. No human.” It could be rat plasma for all I cared. “Got it. Anything else?” “I guess that’ll do it.” Deylaud hesitated. “I take it William is there?”

“Yeah,” I said. “He’s…fine.” “Thank Isis,” Deylaud said. “It’s been tense here.” “Yeah? Tell me.” “Gerard had a conversation with Melaphia right before she left with Renee. It became rather heated.” William and Mel talked in the far corner of the garage. Her back was to me, but I could pick up on her anguish even from a distance. William, who was facing me, looked ill. “What was it about?” “I couldn’t hear.” There was a peevish tone to Deylaud’s voice. “With your hearing?” “I was banished belowstairs so they could talk privately. I could hear the distress in her voice, but not much else. It has something to do with the virus, though.” “Thanks, pal,” I said, also silently thanking whatever powers that be that Deylaud loved me almost as much as he loved William. “As soon as all this blows over, I’m buying you a steak dinner.” “I accept,” he said, and we both hung up. I glanced over toward the kitchen just in time to see Melaphia jerk away from William when he tried to lay a fatherly hand on her shoulder. What the hell? In the other direction I was treated to the sight of Will making a funny face at Renee, then covering his face with his splayed hand of cards, sending her into peals of giggles. The sight of the tyke playing peekaboo with a monster made me want to put my fist into something. Then there was Sullivan, who in the worst-case scenario might hold all the cards where Connie’s fate was concerned. How much worse could all this get?

“So do these ‘donors’ suit your palate?” Lucius had turned up his nose at the usual easy pickings in the city—that is to say, the tunnel denizens and other street people within the city limits. There are always more in the wintertime. They come south with the birds. He also nixed the club scene, as near as I could figure because there were a lot of students from the Savannah College of Art and Design and he was giving them some kind of professional courtesy, him being an art dealer and all. I had taken him out to a suburban twenty-four-hour Wal-Mart so he could have his pick from all walks of life. Everybody from society people to day laborers went to Wal-Mart. But I’d told him if he picked anybody wearing a NASCAR T-shirt or hat, him and me were going to mix it up. I had professional courtesies of my own. “I must admit, this is an interesting cultural mix,” Lucius said, watching a well-dressed woman leave the store with nothing but a bottle of wine and get into a Lexus. I slouched against a Coke machine with a life -size picture of Little E in his number 8 uniform emblazoned on it. “Yeah, well, there ya are,” I responded. It had been a while since I’d hunted humans. I’d be lying to you if I said the anticipation wasn’t getting to me. There’s nothing like human blood, fresh and warm from a still-living mortal body. My fangs began to slowly extend. “I just wish I knew more about the intentions of Hugo and his clan.” That remark seemed to come right out of left field. He was on a fishing expedition, trying to see if there was something I wasn ’t telling him. A teenage lovely sashayed up to put some coins in the machine. I gave her a wink and she grinned with plump, young

lips smeared with glittery gloss. My fangs ached. I watched her walk away with something like longing. I ’d get the next one, I told myself. That one was just too sweet to blemish. Lucius was looking at me expectantly. “I’ve been around a long time, Jack, and I have only the best interests of us all at heart. It must be quite a burden being William’s right hand. Why don’t you let me help?” Damned if this guy wasn’t working me. I guess he was trying some kind of enthrallment to make me want to tell him about Diana and Will. Suddenly the idea of unburdening myself seemed as comforting as the thought of climbing onto a fluffy cloud for a day of rest. This guy was good. But, hey, just because he was working mojo on me didn’t mean telling him wasn’t a good idea. I mean, maybe he could help. No! I shook myself and concentrated on letting the voodoo blood protect me from the older vamp’s mind skills. “What’s the secret, Jack? What are you keeping from me?” I took a deep breath and looked around for a distraction. And along it came. Another young lovely approached the Coke machine. “Feed, Jack, we’ll discuss this later,” Lucius whispered and slipped into the shadows to bite down on his own meal. I leaned my head on the machine and watched the young brunette fish in her jeans pocket for change. She looked up at me expectantly and batted her blue-shadowed eyes. “You want a drink, sugar?” I drawled. She nodded coquettishly. I touched the machine and a can came rolling out. The Fonz had nothin’ on old Uncle Jack. She bent to take it, but I pulled her toward me and kissed her before she could pop the top. The taste of strawberry lip gloss registered, as did the softness of her skin and the smell of her apricot shampoo. “I’m a little parched myself,” I said. She swooned in my arms and moaned as my lips moved to her throat. To the casual observer, we simply looked like two young people in lust, making out in the shadows beside the drink machine. This won’t hurt a bit, darlin’, I whispered to her mind. You’ll be as good as new in just a little while. Her body stiffened only a little as my fangs sank into her jugular. I lifted her off her feet and pressed her to me as I fed, enjoying the feel of her small breasts against my chest, cupping her round bottom in my other hand. When her pulse began to pound in my ears, I forced myself to stop though Satan knows I didn’t want to. I wanted to drink and drink until there was no more hunger. But I did stop. And I sealed the wound with my super-duper vampire spit as William had taught me so many human lifetimes ago. I would feed on a couple more humans tonight, taking no more blood from any of them than they would miss. I carried the teenager deeper into the shadows where there was a small coin-operated pony ride. The kind where you sit your toddler on the pony and put in a coin. In wintertime it had been deserted for the warmth of the store. I sat the unconscious girl on the pony, crossed her arms over its plastic mane, and rested her head on her arms. There were plenty of shoppers in the parking lot. She’d no doubt be found before too long. I smoothed her hair with one hand, straightened her coat around her, and went off to find my next victim.

William Will slouched in the front seat of my brand-new Mercedes with his scuffed boot propped on the burled wood dash. Even Jack, with his unpolished manners, wouldn’t have treated a beautiful machine in such a cavalier way. “I’m starving,” Will said, followed by a dramatic sigh. “Bloody hell! Are we gonna drive around all bleedin’ night?”

“Not that you have any say in the matter, but we’re headed south, out of Savannah. I have no intention of opening hunting season on every human in my city.” The hypocritical words pricked at the chip of stone in my chest, formerly my heart. I myself had just wreaked such havoc. I pushed the ugly image away. What I did in my city was my business. What I allowed strangers to do became another matter entirely. And this new incarnation of my son was definitely a stranger. “Your city?” Will chuckled. “We do have fuckin’ delusions of grandeur, don’t we?” I let the comment pass for two reasons: One, I was not about to allow Will to bait me into a fight, verbal or otherwise, and two, he was right. I certainly did have a delusion of grandeur, and the myriad of problems riding the coattails of that particular personality trait. Problems such as feeling the need to convince Melaphia that Gerard was right and she must allow Iban to feed on her undiluted voodoo blood to survive. That she had to do it for our sake…for my sake. She’d come to Jack’s place of business looking for me with hopes I’d refuse to allow such a ghastly thing to occur. Instead, I’d practically ordered her to comply. The horrible image planted in my mind of Iban ’s rotting face and Melaphia’s smooth, unblemished skin made my own gorge rise. I had to believe in Lalee’s bloodline even if it meant losing Melaphia’s love. Lalee had saved us all too many times in the past. Out of self-preservation I sent my mind down different avenues and turned to my son. “Tell me about Hugo. He seems a rather grandiose fellow himself.” Will’s expression shifted to neutral. If I hadn’t been driving the car I would have pressed him about schooling his features. The obvious effort was a dead giveaway of his hidden intentions and hard information. “He’s—” He cut himself off before grinning at me with a show of fang. “I’m sure you’ll get to know him better in time.” “And what of your lady mother?” That killed the grin. He turned his face away, watching the passing lights, then drew a piece of gold from his pocket. A ring. He tumbled it between his hands for a moment before slipping it onto one of his fingers. Staring down at it, he said in a reverent voice, “She’s an angel.” He looked at me again. “Touch her and you’ll find out more about Hugo than you ever wanted to know. Right before he kills you.” I chuckled but it sounded hollow. Not because Hugo frightened me—I’d fallen well past the level of caring for life. But because Will had such confidence in his so-called father’s ability to protect my wife from me with violence. “And you’re so sure he would best me?” I expected more bravado. What I got was what truly sounded like a warning. “Hugo takes what he wants, twice his share, and skewers anyone in his way.” A moment of silence passed before Will regained his own belligerent composure. “Do I have to have a go at you m’self before you stop this car? I get rather bitchy on an empty belly.” “Tell me about your making.” “Bloody hell!” He dropped his head back and growled at the roof between him and the night. “I’m taking you to a pleasant little spot on St. Simons Island. We’ll be another hour. Tell me and I’ll let you hunt to your belly’s content.” He was silent for a good five minutes. I schooled my own features and waited. “What do you want to know?” he asked. “I’m sure you know the process. Although looking at your son Jack, pardon if I doubt your taste in victims.” “Jack isn’t my son.” “Oh, well, that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy about him.” “And he’s nobody’s victim,” I added. Those words seemed to pique his interest.

“Really? You mean that stupid git wanted to be damned?” “Didn’t you?” “I suppose I did, but I had my reasons.” He twirled the ring on his finger, fidgeting. I made a show of settling myself more solidly behind the wheel, giving him time to compose his thoughts. Then I said, “Go on.” “Not much to tell. Mainly, I remember being cold. Shivering till I thought my fuckin ’ bones would freeze and break like dead sticks.” “Were you in England?” “No, I was—” Will stopped himself and gave me a cautious sideways glance. “I was with my mother.” “Not in England, then.” “No. We were weeks—traveling. I don’t know where we were.” He was staring out of the side window again, arms crossed as if he could still feel the cold. “And then you met Hugo.” His fingers tightened. “Yes, then I met Hugo,” he singsonged before falling silent. It took longer this time before he turned the tables. “Why are you so curious about how I was made? It won’t help you, you know.” “Help me with what?” “Knowing about me won’t keep you safe.” He grinned that terrible insolent, fangy grin. “It’s rather a good joke that he sent me with you as a hostage. I’m only his sharpest tool. Hugo doesn’t love me.” He put back his head and howled like a red Indian, then rocked in the seat with such strength I had to tighten my grip on the wheel to stay in control of the car. The cross -shaped scar on his throat seemed to stretch and grow like fingers in a choking grip. “He can’t kill me, though. But he’s hoping you’ll do it for him.” He stilled, turning to me, his face and neck flushed with blood. “You can try if you like—to kill me.” When I didn’t answer he shrugged again. He gave up explaining and began to fiddle with the car radio. Soon a god-awful racket assaulted our ears. “You know?” he shouted over the din. “If I don’t die tonight, I might just like living in America.”

The club on St. Simons was small even by Savannah standards, more the size of a restaurant bar than a dance club. And patrons were sparse; in winter only a small number of full -time residents remained on the island. Taking to the hunt, Will slid onto a bar stool at one end of the room. I chose a table in an opposite corner with my back to the wall and watched as he went about his business. In a short time two men farther down the bar had moved closer to take seats on either side of him. The three of them could have passed for bored fraternity brothers trying to escape a winter session of school, except for Will’s un-orthodox clothing. The two men seemed to find him more interesting than threatening and were soon laughing and buying a second round of drinks. I, on the other hand, stayed busy resisting the attentions of an overly solicitous cocktail waitress. She either sensed the extent of my finances or she was drawn to the predator in me. Moths seldom understand the danger of the flame until those last few seconds of flaring pain. I needed to feed as much as Will did but it would be rather awkward to empty the bar of its patrons and its help. Within a very few minutes Will and his newly found friends rose to leave. As one of the men paid the bar tab, Will directed a look in my direction and winked before following them out the door. I left a hefty tip for the waitress and moved to the door myself. I caught up with them in the parking lot, still laughing at some joke or story Will was spinning for their amusement.

“Excuse me,” I said, and motioned Will over to me. He touched one of the men on the shoulder before leaving the group. “I’m going to another pub with these chaps,” he called across the distance between us. To them he said, “I’ll meet you at your car.” “No killing,” I said as soon as he reached me. He crossed his arms and whether by accident or design he bestowed a smile so charming he seemed to have shrugged off ten years of pain. “What a fucking Nancy-boy you are,” he said in a pleasant tone. “I can’t tell you how disappointed I am in the great William Thorne.” I could’ve said the feeling was mutual but had no time for pleasantries. “I can send them running for the trees if you don’t swear to me. You’ll be hungry that much longer.” He rolled his eyes. “Christ! All right, fine, I won’t kill ’em.” When I simply stared at him, he flung out one arm. “Come along if you like. By all fucking means, we musn’t hurt the humans.” Then he cut in another direction. “Wait till bloody Hugo hears about this. He’ll laugh until he pisses himself.” “I’ll have your hand on it,” I said, holding out my own. This seemed to tickle Will further. “Sure, fine, whatever.” He clasped my hand and as he pulled away in a hurry, I slipped the ring from his finger and dropped it into my pocket. “After you,” I said. “Now is not the time to discuss anything but feeding.” Will sauntered across the small parking lot toward the men waiting for him. We were very close to the ocean; the waves sounded loud, rhythmic like the heartbeat of the planet. The air was heavy with cool moisture smelling of salt and sand. I watched as Will slipped his arm around one man and motioned for the other to follow. Instead of getting in the car, they headed across the street toward the low dunes and the ocean beyond. They’d barely made it to the darkness on the ocean side of a public bathhouse when Will drew one of the men into his embrace. I could hear his breathless, urgent, sensual whisper— “Come on, luv. Let’s have a li’l fun then.” Then he kissed him, full on the mouth—a sucking, searching kind of kiss. The opening volley: taking pleasure before handing out pain. Without quitting the kiss, Will slid an arm around the other man and drew him into a three -way embrace. Will’s enveloping sexual power was so strong, I could feel it though I was standing yards away. Rather impressive—this was no inexperienced pup, more like what we used to call a “jade” of the first water. I thought of my dead friend Alger. What a pair of cocksmen he and my son would have made, putting the fictional des Esseintes and even Beardsley to shame. One man had slid to his knees now and worked at Will’s belt while Will himself shoved the other’s shirt out of the way. Then the sucking took over, at all ends. The man in Will’s arms sighed and drew him closer as Will drank, the man working his cock moved faster; all seemed to be bent on the same goal—pleasing Will. I moved closer, thinking I might have to remind Will not to get carried away, but he needed no such warning. He withdrew his fangs and offered me a bloody smile as he allowed the man standing to slide to the sand against the building, half unconscious but wearing a stupid smile. Then, without taking his gaze from me, Will framed the other man’s head with his hands and pumped himself into the man’s greedy mouth. The orgasm, when it came, was intense. Will lowered his chin and watched as the man drank him in. Then, he returned the favor by pulling him to his feet and pressing him face first against the wall. “That was quite nice,” Will breathed into the man’s ear. “Now hold still, luv, here’s a bit of something for you.” I had seen enough to know that Will would keep his word about killing. I walked back to the parking lot and leaned on the Mercedes. All alone in the cold, nearly empty parking lot, I fished out my night ’s thievery. The sight of it took my breath for a moment and the golden weight seemed to burn the palm of my unsteady hand.

My betrothal ring, the one I’d placed on Diana’s willing hand so many eons ago. I thought back to when she’d pressed it on our son. Did she think it would be some sort of protection from me? Was it meant as a signal? Or just one more punishment for my many failures? Like a rogue ocean wave my mind filled with possibilities, then emptied just as quickly. The temptation to fling the golden symbol of our love away was oh, so strong. But without conscious consent, my fist closed over it. I promised myself that the time for answers would come. Before Diana left Savannah, I would know all or die trying. It wasn’t long before Will appeared, dusting his hands together as he approached the car. “No muss, no fuss,” he said with that deadly charming smile of his. His mood seemed to have lightened considerably after feeding. I opened the driver’s side door. “Aren’t you gonna check my homework then?” I shook my head. “What about you? Your turn, mate.” My hunger remembered the waitress inside the bar. I turned in that direction. I needed strength now more than ever. In less than a moment the back door opened and my main course stepped out, carrying a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Without looking back to, I was sure, a smiling Will, I slipped the ring back in my pocket and crossed the parking lot to her. Whether she was attracted to me or the large tip I’d given her, she smiled. With an answering smile I relieved her of the pack of cigarettes and tossed them into the bushes. “Don’t you know those things will kill you?” I asked as I took her hand and led her into the darkness.

Twelve

Jack When I walked into the garage after driving Lucius back to the plantation house, I was greeted by the sight of Sullivan and Connie in an intense conversation in the far corner of the shop. I stopped in my tracks when I saw her, dressed in jeans and a red pullover that hugged her curves under a loose jacket. Why is it that knowing you can ’t have something makes you want it even more? Each time I saw her now hurt worse than the last. Werm was seated at the card table cradling his head in one hand. Huey handed him a frosty pork chop. “Fresh from the freezer,” he said cheerily. “That should help. I’m going to bed now. Good night, everybody.” The little zombie headed toward the stairs to the bottom of the oil pit and his waiting cot. Over his shoulder he called back to Werm, “When that meat thaws out, just throw it on down to me. I’ll eat it for breakfast.” “Will do.” Werm put the chop against a nasty-looking bruise on his left temple and groaned. He looked behind him to make sure Connie and Sullivan were out of earshot. “Hey, Jack, aren’t vampires supposed to heal really quick?” “Yeah. Don’t worry. That bruise will be gone in an hour.” Since Werm was a fledgling, it took him longer to heal than it did the rest of us. The older and more powerful the vampire, the faster he heals. The really old, really tough ones can heal a gaping wound right before your eyes. “What the hell happened to you, anyway?” I asked. “Wait. Don’t tell me. When you went out to feed, you picked the biggest, baddest dude you could find, didn’t you?” Werm sighed. “It was Chad Stringer. I just had to bite him.” “Who is Chad Stringer?” “The guy who kicked my ass every day after school from the time I was in the fourth grade.” “What’d you do? Knock on his door and call him out?” “No!” Werm said emphatically, as if whatever he did do was any less stupid than that. “It wasn’t like that. I went down to the club to persuade some of the finer ladies to donate their blood to a good cause.” “On a voluntary basis, I take it?” “Of course. You know, kind of like how William does.” I tried not to smile. Werm had a ways to go before he could equal William’s persuasive ways with the ladies, or mine, for that matter. “How’d that work out for you?” “It was going real good,” Werm said. “I was about to take a cute little ex-cheerleader on a walk around the square, maybe a little roll in the grass where I’d make my move. Then Stringer and some of his redneck pals came to the club to play Kick the

Goths.” “Yeah? And?” “He hit me in the eye, but that wasn’t the end of it.” Werm’s mouth spread into a wide grin. “You should see the other guy, Jack.” “And what would I see?” “You’d see an unconscious redneck in the flower bed with a broken jaw and fang marks on his neck.” Now I did smile. Well, what do you know? Score one for the little guy. “I’m proud of you, son,” I said. “This calls for a beer.” “Um, do you have any wine, Jack? I’ve kind of developed a taste for the stuff what with sleeping in Dad’s wine cellar and all.” Damn. Just when I thought I was having a good influence on that boy. “Go to the kitchen and see what you can find. I think Rennie keeps some sherry in there somewhere for the little old lady customers.” The little old lady remark didn’t seem to faze Werm. He sauntered off to the kitchen to forage for alcohol. As soon as Werm walked away, Connie made her way over to me from where she and Sullivan had been standing. Sullivan shrugged and waved a hand toward me as if to say, You deal with her. Connie made a little growling noise of frustration as she stalked up to me. “Will somebody tell me what’s going on?” “What do you mean?” I asked. “You call Sullivan at my place at an ungodly hour and he rushes off to some big emergency. When I didn ’t hear from him, naturally I was concerned. But he refuses to tell me what the problem is. Will you tell me what’s happened?” I looked at Sullivan, who was leaning up against the front corner of the garage. The bay door was open and his arms were crossed against the chill. I heard a car pause at the curb. A door slammed. It sounded like William ’s new Mercedes. But what would he be doing coming back here? Following the sound, William’s order blasted loud and clear in my brain. Keep him here. Will. Crap. “Listen, there’s a…situation. There’s nothing you can do to help. It’s just something we have to deal with. William is handling it.” Connie narrowed her dark eyes at me. “Does this have to do with that—that—whatever it is you’re into?” She glanced over at Sullivan and lowered her voice. “Whatever happened between us?” In that moment I wanted to tell her everything. It was like she’d enthralled me as if she was the vamp. Maybe as far as Connie was concerned I was enthralled for life. But I was already in trouble up to my fangs without having to explain to a cop how and why I was a killer. I took a deep breath and decided I would offer her as much of the truth as I could. “Not directly. No.” Sullivan caught my attention again. He was talking to someone standing just outside. Because the other bay doors were closed, I couldn’t see who it was. As I watched, Sullivan’s face registered some sort of recognition, as if he’d just realized who the person he’d been talking to for the past couple of minutes was. “Have I ever given you any reason not to trust me?” Connie asked, and I immediately turned back to her. “No, of course not.” I ran my hand through my hair in frustration. “It’s just a big mess, and I don’t want you involved for your own sake.” I paused and let myself look at her. I put up one hand, longing to touch her, but dropped it. “I care about you too much for that.”

For all my focus on Connie, I couldn’t help but notice that Sullivan’s conversation with the invisible man had become more animated. The Californian’s stance changed. He went from a slouch against the wall to standing evenly on both feet, a vigilant kind of position, like he was poised for a fight. “Oh, Jack—” Connie began. A blur of motion so fast I could barely see it took Sullivan completely off his feet and out of my line of sight. Whatever tender words Connie was about to speak to me died on the night air. I raced to the open bay door in time to see Will sink his fangs into Sullivan’s throat. I flew at Will full force, knocking both him and Sullivan to the ground, but the wiry vampire didn ’t loosen his grip. I dug my fingers into Will’s face just below his cheekbones to try and force him to release Sullivan from his fangs. Sullivan ’s face was sickeningly white, his eyes wide with shock. Will clung fast to his prey and his Adam’s apple worked while he swallowed gulp after gulp of Sullivan’s blood. I head-butted the blood drinker hard enough to stun him for a second and grabbed a fistful of his hair, pulling backward with enough strength to break a human’s neck, if not sever his head completely. Will’s fangs came away from Sullivan’s throat, but not cleanly. The vampire tore out a mouthful of flesh, sinew, and blood vessels. If Sullivan wasn’t dead already, he soon would be. I felt my eyes go red-black with rage. How dare this demon come onto my own turf—my own shop—and kill a human I was honor bound to protect as the compadre of a brother blood drinker. This little pissant was going to pay, William’s son or not. Will looked at me in surprise. “You’re strong for a youngster. Why you don’t smell any older than—” Will sniffed the air in my direction. “—two hundred at the most. Perhaps less. Why are you so strong?” “Wouldn’t you like to know?” I said. I felt the voodoo blood rise up in me. Will was an old, powerful vamp, probably with lots of tricks up his sleeve, but he’d never come up against the likes of me. Hopefully the magic would make me more than a match for him, but I couldn’t be sure. Yet. “What’s the matter?” I asked. “Not used to a fair fight?” He landed a quick blow to my cheek and I shrugged it off and came back with a right uppercut to his chin. His head snapped back like a bobble-head doll’s, and I followed up by backhanding him so hard he skidded across the pavement to the edge of the parking lot on his ass. Thank Satan it was the wee dark hours of the morning and nobody was on the street. If some unsuspecting human did happen along, they were in for quite a show. Speaking of unsuspecting humans, I looked back at Sullivan. Connie had reached him by that time and was cradling his head against her as he stared sightlessly into the low -hanging trees and the sky beyond. Connie looked up at me wild-eyed and back down at Sullivan’s lifeless body. She knew he was dead, and I knew her instinctive next move would be to call the police. I opened my mind to Werm. I wasn ’t his sire, but I could still communicate with him telepathically because of the voodoo blood bond. At least, I hoped we could. Rip out the office phone, my mind screamed. Get the cell phone out of her purse on the card table and hide it. Sure enough Connie started scrambling to her feet, shrugging away from Sullivan’s corpse. Distracted, I didn’t see Will coming until he was on me. He hit me so hard I landed in the dirt several feet away with him on top of me. He straddled my chest and punched me in the face. I saw spots in front of my eyes. As he reached back with his fist to hit me again, I threw him off and to the side. We both scrambled to our feet and circled each other. “Why? Why did you have to kill him?” I demanded. “I don’t answer to you, mate,” he said. There were still pieces of Sullivan’s flesh in his fangs. “You should’ve stayed out of it.” “You don’t come onto my property, into my business and murder a human.”

He cocked his head to one side and leered. “Look behind you. I think I just did.” I lunged at him and swung, but he dodged the blow, bouncing on his toes. He swung back at me, but the blow glanced off my shoulder as I dodged. I spun around and faced him again. Behind him, I could see to my horror that Connie was back. Werm had gotten rid of both phones so she hadn’t been able to call for backup. But I hadn’t remembered something else—something slightly more important. I hadn’t thought to tell Werm to take away her gun. She stood ten feet behind Will now, her service revolver aimed at the middle of his back. She looked at me and jerked her head to the side, indicating for me to move out of her line of fire. Had she seen the flesh come away from Sullivan’s neck in Will’s fangs? Even if she had, was there any way for her to comprehend what she was dealing with? I couldn’t let her shoot him. It wouldn’t even slow him down, but it just might piss him off. I swung at him again, concentrating on the speed of the blow instead of power. Unable to dodge the lightning -fast punch, he caught it on the jaw and staggered backward right into Connie’s path. I spat out a curse, realizing that my punch had closed the distance between them. Will grinned and rubbed his chin, but instead of coming at me, he whirled to face Connie. If she hadn’t realized what she was dealing with before, she had more of an inkling now. I saw her horrified expression as he brought his face, fangs still dripping with blood, next to hers. “Hello, luv,” he said. “Fancy a go yourself then?” William told me once that this was the ultimate vulnerability of humans: that split second of crystal understanding when they realized they were facing true, inhuman evil and the moment of hesitation that followed while they absorbed it were their undoing. It was the knowledge that they were already dead. Yes, most humans, male or female, would have frozen —gone catatonic with shock, revulsion, and terror at what she saw when she looked into Will’s face. But not my Connie. She shot him in the heart at point-blank range. He looked down, then back up at her. He dipped one index finger into the rapidly closing wound in his chest and brought it to his lips. After licking the blood off his finger, he said, “That tickled,” and drew his lips up and backward until his face was a hideous mask of razorlike fangs. He seized her shoulders and went for her throat. His fangs were less than an inch from Connie’s neck when I pulled back on his shirt with enough force to rip it from his back. At the same time an invisible force hit Connie from one side, knocking her out of his way. I made a mental note to thank Werm for taking his voodoo studies more seriously than I ’d taken mine. His invisibility had payed off big-time. My rage exploded. In that moment Will represented all that had gone wrong in my undead life—Reedrek rocking my world, my accidentally getting poor Shari and Huey killed, Hugo and Diana ’s treachery, my sex problems with Connie, my shattered relationship with William when things had been finally looking up. And now the little punk threatened what I loved best. I felt my face change into what I knew was just as monstrous a mask as Will’s. I tossed his ruined shirt aside and went for his throat. He danced out of the way and faster than a blink he was at the edge of the parking lot. He turned and shouted, “This isn’t over! Mark me well, I’ll kill you one day and have a little fun with your lady friend before I have her for afters.” Then he disappeared into the darkness. On the one hand I was pissed that I hadn’t killed him. On the other, I felt smug about being strong enough to make him run away like a sissy. Score one for the voodoo blood. All in all I would rather have gone another round with Will than to have to turn and face Connie. But I didn ’t have a choice. She’d made it to her feet and was standing next to Sullivan’s body. A body I had to dispose of double-quick. I felt my face change back to its normal state. Watch carefully, little girl. It’s show-and-tell time. Well, showtime, anyway. Her expression told me she was still shocked but not to the point of senselessness. She had seen. She knew. Her gun was still in her hand.

Aimed at me. “Go ahead,” I said. “Shoot me if you want. I wouldn’t blame you.” “It wouldn’t hurt you, though, would it? Like it didn’t hurt him. What would it take to kill you?” I rubbed the back of my head. Many times I’d imagined what this conversation might be like. It was never like this. “Traditionally, a wooden stake,” I said, laying my hand against my chest. “To the heart.” “Sweet Jesus!” Connie whispered. The revolver slid out of her hand and fell onto the asphalt.

William “How is she?” I asked Tilly. Tilly shook her head. “Not very well,” she answered, followed by an agitated tsk in my direction. “I helped her clean up as best I could, but—” I rested a hand on the closed door. Melaphia’s distress was palpable. She still struggled with the horror of what she’d been required to do, and she felt I’d betrayed her. But there was something else as well, an injury I needed to soothe or temper. I lowered my hand to the doorknob but Tilly stopped me with a touch on my arm. “She wouldn’t let me see or help her when she went to him. The sight of him would be enough to drive some insane. Your friend Gerard had to hold her down.” Guilt drummed through my ever-present anger. Not Melaphia, not my beautiful girl. “I know you did your best. I’ll see to her now,” I said, and turned the knob. Melaphia was lying naked on the bed, her face turned to the wall. I’d never seen her so vulnerable, as though every spark of magic had deserted her. Whether she felt my presence or simply didn’t care who might see her I couldn’t tell. I pulled the door closed behind me, then sat on the bed next to her. Her eyes were open, staring. For a brief second a premonition of death rattled my composure. But I could smell the life in her and when I pressed my palm to her cheek she was warm. “Hello, sweet,” I whispered. Her eyes blinked but other than that she didn’t respond. I leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I’m so sorry, love. I should’ve been here.” No answer, no absolution. “Let me take you home.” That brought her gaze to mine. “It hurts.” “What hurts?” Slowly, like a woman Tilly’s age, Melaphia unfolded her arms. From wrist to elbow on both, her flesh was torn and fiery red as if she’d been ravenously gnawed by a great beast. The sight made my heart clench. Melaphia was mortal; she had no ability to heal quickly or without scars. Suddenly I couldn’t meet her eyes. I was supposed to be her protector. “I’m so sorry—” Just then the door swung open and Gerard paced into the room. “It worked!” he announced. “Iban is already beginning to heal!” Melaphia didn’t react other than to carefully fold her arms in a protective manner, Gerard’s elation lost on her.

“I’ll have to do more blood tests to make sure the virus is as dead as it appears, but—” I pulled the bedcover loose and drew it over Melaphia’s nakedness. “Do you have something for pain?” I asked. “Well, yes, but Iban is sleeping like a babe—” “Not for Iban.” Gerard collected himself and glanced at Melaphia. “Yes, of course, I’ll—” “No,” Melaphia said, her voice only marginally stronger. “I have my own healing potions.” I leaned close to her ear again. “Let him give you something soothing.” I used my best comforting persuasion to get her to agree, mostly for her but partly for my own peace of mind. I could calm her mind but not her body, and I couldn’t stand to see her suffer any further. “Then I’ll take you home to your own bed.” The promise of home seemed to do the trick. She nodded. “Let’s get you dressed.” By the time Gerard returned with a hypodermic needle, I had Melaphia in enough clothes to keep her warm on the way home. As Tilly fussed over her, adjusting the voodoo blue coat I’d placed over her shoulders, I took Gerard to the side. “She seems so weak. How do we know she won’t fall ill?” “If her blood can kill the virus in another, then there’s no chance the virus can attack her.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry he did her such damage. He was very close to being the monster none of us want to see.” It was nearly impossible for me to imagine Iban being cruel to anyone, but it had been terrible to watch the virus eating his flesh from the inside out. Who knew what any of us might do in such dire need? “Thank you for all your work,” I said. “And tell Iban when he wakes that I’ll be back for him.” “I will. And I plan on puzzling out a vaccine as soon as possible.” He looked at Melaphia again. “But we musn’t take any more blood right now. She’s too compromised.” I wholeheartedly agreed with his assessment. As soon as Gerard gave Melaphia the injection to ease her pain, I gathered her into my arms and carried her from the room. “Take me to your house; Renee is there with the twins,” she sighed, then slept.

Deylaud swung the door open. Home again, home again, jiggity jig. Eleanor stood across the room, but I couldn’t meet her gaze. As I carried Melaphia past her, she made an anguished sound, fear mixed with relief. But she did not follow. She seemed to sense I had no heart left to comfort her. Reyha pulled back the covers on the guest room bed and I placed Melaphia next to her daughter. Renee didn’t wake but some animal instinct, ever vigilant, recognized her mother. She turned and snuggled closer. I covered them both, then kissed each on the cheek. Would that I had the power to heal along with the power to kill. The best I could do was offer a lullaby. Not sung in the regular manner but mind to mind, deep inside the fear and pain. I nodded to Reyha. “Leave us.” Then for the next hour I sat next to the bed spinning beautiful dreams of flying free, of loving light, of the sunrises and sunsets I

hadn’t seen for half a millennium. My memories would have to do. The good ones, that is. When I was sure they were both sleeping deeply and peacefully, I left them there to face my household. Eleanor. As I closed the bedroom door behind me, she launched herself into my arms. “I was so worried—” I set her back far enough to see her eyes. Her pain almost managed to penetrate my hardened heart. Almost. Enough to add another log of guilt to the already roaring fire of my anger. But not at her. None of this had to do with her —only in the fact that I would be forced to calm her or ultimately kill her. She’d given herself to me, body and future. Her soul had gone ahead into the darkness to keep company with mine. And now I felt nothing. “What’s happened? Where have you been?” “I’ve been busy.” I couldn’t have surprised her more if I’d slapped her. “Busy? You’ve been gone for two days…” I stepped around her on the way to my office. “I’ve had business to attend to.” “But—” I felt her distress like a knife between my shoulder blades. But then suddenly, unaccountably, it eased. I stopped and turned. Deylaud had moved close and put a comforting arm around her shoulders, his fingers touching the bare skin of her arm. Before I could even react properly, he bared his teeth at me and gave the human version of a growl. This broke my composure. Within seconds I had lifted him from the floor. He struggled futilely in my grip as I shook him once. “If you ever challenge me again, I’ll gut you, balls to brains.” “William!” I could feel Eleanor pulling at my arm. “Let him go. Please. He didn’t mean—” “Don’t defend him. He’s mine to do with as I will.” Reyha, crouched in a corner of the kitchen, set up a howl of fear. “He—we’re all so upset and afraid—” Eleanor’s words were like the buzzing of a fly in the room. Distant, but vexing. It was the tears in Deylaud’s eyes that stopped me. If I were a betting man, I would wager I’d just broken his heart. I tossed him back against the opposite wall. He went limp and slid to the floor. “Do we understand each other?” I asked. Eleanor dropped to her knees next to him, but his attention remained on me. “Yes,” he choked out. Reyha scurried to his other side. There was no doubt how the three of them currently felt about the master of the house. Blindly I turned and continued down the stairs. There was no time for diplomacy or consideration. After locking the door to my office, I went straight to the bone box and shells. A feeling of dread bled through me as I slipped my father’s gold ring onto my own hand. Then I tossed the shells.

In less than a heartbeat, I found myself outside the Bremer-Silk plantation. My home, bought for a pittance during the so-called Reconstruction, when I’d taken pleasure in its splendid isolation. The moss-laden trees over my head were even older than the antebellum house. On this evening, however, I felt no satisfaction or ease; instead, my dread increased. It had taken all my morbid curiosity to carry me this far. These last few steps seemed impossible. Yet I would know. I had to know. And the shells took me to Diana. I found her in the bath, humming with pleasure. After the close quarters of the ship she, like any other woman, would be eager for a good soak. If my knees had been more substantial and instrumental in holding me up, I might have collapsed to the floor. So beautiful. It would take a poet to describe her. Her skin, pale as I remembered, yet unblemished by time or care, glistened with the patina of the finest pearls. Her body, her breasts rounded, enhanced by childbirth, made me ache with longing. The years—no, centuries—that had passed since I’d touched her seemed cruel beyond measure. Closing her eyes she reclined in the water with a sigh. Drawn by that sound of delight I found myself floating above her, my breath burning like fire in my throat. I brushed an invisible hand along her damp cheek. She sighed again. Then her eyes fluttered open. I caught my breath. She seemed to be looking directly at me, drawing me closer. Close enough to kiss. The door behind us opened with an impatient bang. “I may be immortal but I do not intend to wait all night.” Hugo. He filled the space of the bath like a thundercloud come to rain on my pleasure. On Diana’s as well, it seemed. She didn’t react, more in control of herself than I could manage. I found myself balanced between the two, as though my invisible presence could keep them apart. The sight of him gave me pause. I felt a frisson of worry for Diana’s safety. Wearing britches but no boots and bare to the waist, his broad chest crisscrossed with what appeared to be half a dozen sword or knife wounds, Hugo looked more than ever like a marauding Viking. His scowl seemed to be a permanent fixture. I waited for Diana’s response. When it came, it was nothing I would’ve expected: Not fear. Not love. Jaw-tightening lust. The heat of it simmering between them like flames of a furnace surrounding tempered steel. I felt myself literally pushed against the wall. Out of the way. Singed. Diana, her Eve-like smile trained on her personal serpent, chose a bar of scented soap and lathered her hands. “You know better than to spoil my bath.” She slowly began to wash one arm. “Perhaps if you helped I would be sooner done.” To my amazement, the hulking but obedient Hugo crossed the room and knelt next to the tub. Without comment he plunged his hands into the water, then took the soap from her. His clumsy-looking fingers grew more graceful as they lathered her arms and neck, her breasts. I had to stifle a moan as her nipples rose at the touch of the cooler air and his rough palms. But Hugo seemed more the servant than the master. Drawing her to her knees he moved behind her. With her hands braced against the marble tile Diana arched her spine as he carefully yet thoroughly washed her back. When his hands slid lower, to her bottom and between her thighs, I had to look away. I don’t know what I had thought I would learn by spying. All I’d accomplished was the destruction of the last bit of hope I’d fostered—that Diana was unhappy with Hugo, that she would be glad to be shut of him and turn to…me. Not in this lifetime, or in any other. Choking on my own foolish and doomed hopes, I closed my eyes. When I opened them again I found myself outside, on what

polite southerners prefer to call the veranda of the plantation house, my ears still ringing with Diana’s low laugh and Hugo’s groan of pleasure. I knew bath time was finished and things were progressing to their intimate end. Why was I still here? Isn’t this what you wanted to know? The voice of the shells floated on the night air. Yes. No. I don’t know. My chest felt as if one of Hugo’s Viking swords had sliced between my ribs, tearing into my heart. But he was paying no heed to me: he was too busy pumping my wife. I looked toward the heavens. Can you not show me one thing on this side of hell that is mine to keep? No answer. Typical. Then take me back— The crunch of boots on gravel sounded in the darkness, and then Will stumbled up the steps. His clothes were bloody, and he seemed tired or injured, hurt in a way I couldn’t detect. He sank down on the floor of the veranda and wrapped an arm around the rail post. Mother. He’d barely rested his head against the wood when the front door swung open and Diana rushed through it. She’d thrown on a silk wrapper but her feet were bare. “Will! What’s happened?” Hugo, still naked, had followed her, but he stood back, scanning the darkness beyond them. I might’ve been pleased that he felt danger from me, but I was too interested in hearing Will’s explanation. I’d left him in Jack’s care and now he was here, covered in blood. Was it Jack’s blood? “Did he do this to you?” Diana asked. He being me, I supposed. The fact that she couldn’t even say my name wasn’t as painful as it might’ve been. Not now, since I’d witnessed her metaphorically making her bed with Hugo and happily lying down in it. “I lost your ring…” Will said. “I’m sorry, Mother.” Diana frowned and pulled at his bloody shirt. “Are you injured?” “No. Not me. I had to kill him—” Diana’s hand tightened on the front of Will’s shirt, then she went still. “You killed William?” I got some satisfaction hearing the edge of panic in her voice. So, she still had use for me after all. “No—I—” Perhaps to hide the look of relief I saw briefly, she tugged on his arm and pulled him up. Will allowed her to help him into the house, mumbling, “I don’t feel well.” Instead of helping the two of them, Hugo blocked the door with his naked body—crossing his arms and searching the yard one last time. Satisfied by the absence of threat, he stepped back and slammed the door shut.

Thirteen

Jack “No,” she said. “That’s not possible. There’s no such thing as a—a—” “Vampire,” I supplied. Werm materialized beside me. “Yeah, there is.” “What the hell are you? A ghost?” Connie squinted as if her eyes were deceiving her. Who could blame her? I was going to have to talk to Werm about his timing. “I’m a vampire, too. It was me who just pushed you out of the way.” Werm looked at her expectantly, like he was waiting for her to thank him. Seemed like he’d wait a long damn time. She looked at us like she wanted to arrest us but couldn’t figure out the charges. We hadn’t killed anybody. Anybody she knew of, that is. “How many of you are there?” Werm flinched as Connie bent to pick up the gun. “Um, well, there’s me and Jack and William, and—ow!” I gripped Werm hard by the shoulder. “You’re not helping, slick,” I hissed into his ear. Werm looked back and forth between me and the gun. “Huh-how can I help, Jack?” “Take Sullivan’s body to William’s vault through the tunnels. You know where the entrance is in the oil pit. Tell Deylaud what happened, and stay off the streets for the rest of the night.” Before Werm could move, Connie snapped, “Don’t even think about moving that body. This is a crime scene.” “Sullivan was the servant of a vampire, and his murder is vampire business. Let us take care of it,” I said. “No way,” she said flatly. “Are you prepared to tell your buds at the cop shop you witnessed a vampire tear Sullivan’s throat out?” I asked. There was nothing she could say to that. She rubbed her temples, pointing the gun into the air, and squeezed her eyes shut. Connie was strong, but I was afraid she was reaching the limits of what she could take in one night. After all, a man she evidently cared about had just died a grisly death in her arms. And before his blood was dry on her hands she found out that one of her other love interests was a card-carrying member of the scare club for men—an evil dead community she never, in her wildest nightmares, knew existed. It was not a good night for her. I nodded to Werm, who went to Sullivan’s body, picked it up carefully, then disappeared into the garage. Connie had opened her eyes by that time, but she didn’t try to stop him.

Connie tucked the gun into the back of her jeans. She looked down at her hands, covered with Sullivan’s blood, and that’s when the reality of the whole situation hit her. “Don’t faint!” I said. I took two steps toward her so I could catch her if she started to crumple. She glared at me. “I. Don’t. Faint.” “Of course not. Sorry.” Man, this was awkward. Now that the cat was out of the bag, so to speak, there was so much I wanted to tell her. To make her understand. But where to start? First it might be good to get Sullivan’s blood off her hands. Licking seemed out of the question. I walked over to the shop sink and wet down a handful of paper towels. She sat in silence as I awkwardly wiped at the blood. Finally she took the towels from me and finished the job herself. “Do you want some coffee?” I asked. “Coffee? You want to drink coffee at a time like this?” She was wild-eyed again, but her hands were steady. She threw the used wad of towels and hit the garbage can like Michael Jordan. Sometimes I forget not everybody is a death-dealer like me. You do eventually get used to violence and gore. Connie was a police officer and she’d seen her share of ugliness and maybe even some genuine human evil. But there was no way she could be prepared for what I had to tell her now. “Decaf?”

Connie sat at the old Formica table in the kitchen area and watched my every move while I made the coffee. I could tell that she was forming questions in her mind, and some answers of her own, along the lines of a vampire, now that explains a lot. When I’d gotten the brew started, I sat down opposite her. “You must have a lot of questions.” “You could say that.” “Fire away. Not literally, though,” I added, remembering the gun. “You say you’re a vampire,” she said simply. “Yes.” So far, so good. “And William and that weird little guy who appeared out of thin air right in front of me, and the monster who killed Sullivan, they’re vampires, too.” “Right.” She nodded slowly. “I’ll ask you again. How many of you are there?” “Too many for you to arrest.” “Answer the question.” I sighed. “In this country? In the world? I honestly don’t know the answer to that.” “Let’s start with Savannah.”

“Normally, it’s just me and William and Werm unless we have a guest or a transient passing through town.” I left Eleanor out of the mix: no use completely wrecking her already shaky reputation. And if I kept naming names it would look like we were making vampires right and left. “Normally?” “We have…visitors.” “Like the one who killed Sullivan.” “Yeah,” I said. “Well, I mean, most of them are okay. But there’s this other group that we never heard of before who kind of dropped in. We don’t know much about them. Will’s one of those.” She paused, thinking of more questions, I guess, or maybe letting it all sink in. “You said Sullivan’s murder is vampire business and that you’d take care of it.” She flattened her palms on the Formica tabletop. “What are you going to do?” I hadn’t really decided. But now that she asked, I realized I knew what I had to do. “I’m going to kill him.” Could I really kill him or was I just blowing smoke up Connie’s skirt? If nothing else, it would be a better experiment than the fight had been in determining whether the voodoo blood was stronger than five hundred or so years of drinking human juice. Gerard would be proud. I might as well play the guinea pig. “You’re going to kill him,” Connie repeated. “Do you kill a lot of people?” “Not a lot. Humans almost never, unless there are some special circumstances.” “And what would constitute special circumstances?” I was glad her hands were still on the table. I had a feeling she really wanted to go for the gun, and even though getting shot wouldn’t kill me, I also knew that Will had been putting on a show earlier. Getting shot in the chest hurt like hell, five hundred years of vamping around notwithstanding. Don’t ask me how I know. “Remember the serial rapist we had last year?” Connie widened her eyes. “That never made the papers. How did you know about it?” “We—William and me—we make it our business to know what’s going on in this town. We have our ways. Anyway, I guess you remember how he just disappeared one day.” “Yeah. I remember. I helped with the investigation.” Connie’s eyes brightened. “What happened to him?” “Let’s just say he tasted a lot like chicken.” “How do you know you got the right guy?” “Again, we have our ways. It’s a mind thing. It’s very hard for a human to lie to a vampire.” Of course vampires ourselves are excellent liars. It comes with the territory. “So you really killed that scumbag?” “I really did.”

Then Connie did a remarkable thing. For the first time that night, she smiled. I was a little surprised to see Connie approve of our vigilante justice. Make that a lot surprised. She’d always seemed to me like a just-the-facts-ma’am, by-the-book cop. That contradiction, or maybe misjudgment of her on my part, made me want to ask her a few questions about her philosophy of crime fighting, but now was not the time. “Okay, then.” Connie nodded slowly. “I’ll take your word you’ll deal with Sullivan’s killer.” The automatic drip coffeemaker beeped, signaling the brew was done. I got up to pour us each a cup, feeling like I could relax a little. Connie had stopped looking like she wanted to arrest me —or worse. Now she just looked curious. Plus she’d said she would take my word, which meant she still trusted me, to some degree at least, and that alone made me happy. “So, this vampire thing,” she began. “That’s what you were talking about when you said you were into something that wouldn’t sit well with me? Something you couldn’t just give up?” This vampire thing. I almost laughed. She made it sound like a hobby. I took down two ceramic mugs from the cabinet overhead. “Yeah. I can’t exactly give up being what I am. If I could go back to being human again, I would, believe me. But it’s not an option.” “I guess it would explain why I’ve never seen you out in the daytime,” she said. “That is, if that’s even true about vampires.” “Yeah, it’s true.” I poured the coffee and gave her a cup. “A lot of the stuff you’ve seen in books and movies about vampires— the mirror thing, the having-to-be-invited-in thing—is true. I mean, there’s a reason those things keep showing up in vampire stories: because most of them—not all, mind you—but most of them have at least a grain of truth. Sometimes more than a grain.” “So, you can drink coffee.” Connie cradled the cup to warm her hands, then took a sip. “Do you drink blood, too?” “Yeah. That’s one of those grain-of-truth things.” Boulder of truth, more like. Of all the fun facts about vampires, it was the blood drinking that really set us apart, even more than our general undeadness and superpowers. “I can drink things other than blood. Coffee, liquor, beer—by the grace of God—but all I can eat is…” I trailed off. Confiding in Connie was liberating, but I didn’t want to take things too far. “What?” she asked. “Raw meat.” I looked down at the table, not able to meet her eyes. Sometimes I watch DVDs with Renee when it ’s not a school night. She has several different versions of Beauty and the Beast—her favorite fairy tale—that she loves to watch over and over. You know kids. Anyway, in one of them, Beauty breaks the rules and comes out at night, when the beast is getting busy eating a deer —raw. Seeing him chin-deep in the animal’s innards disgusts her so much she runs back into the castle as hard as she can go. I knew, without looking up, that was how Connie was looking at me now. “Anyway, I almost never drink unwilling human blood,” I said hastily. It was true. After all, the Wal-Mart incident wasn’t my idea. I decided not to mention the supply of donated blood we got from the blood bank. “We can live on animal blood and for the most part we do. We don’t kill innocent human beings. Honest. At least the good vamps don’t. I don’t. But there are these other guys…” I was running off at the mouth now. Not a good thing. I dared to glance back up at Connie. She was still with me, hanging on my every word. “You mean like the creepy uncle of yours who came around back in the fall? What was his name?” “Reedrek, only he wasn’t my uncle. He’s kind of like my grandfather but not my real one, not my human one, I mean. He was up to no good. In fact, he killed a couple of mortals while he was here and tortured William. So me and William took care of him.” “You killed him?”

“No, but we kind of locked him up. Someplace where he can’t do anybody any harm again.” “So, you’re saying there are good vampires and bad vampires,” Connie postulated. “Just like people?” “Yeah, that’s about the size of it.” “And you and William and this Werm are the good guys?” “Of course,” I said, more than a little put out, to tell you the truth. “How could you even ask that?” “Sorry. I’m having a hard time digesting all this, Jack. I mean, I just saw you go all Dracula on that Will guy. You ’ve got to give me some time to let everything sink in.” “I know. I guess I’m a little touchy. I never asked to be turned into a monster, but I accepted William’s offer. If I’d known what I’d become, I would rather have died. But it’s a hundred and fifty years too late to second-guess myself now. If I’m still not used to being a vampire, I can’t expect you to get used to the idea of me being one in just a few minutes.” I reached over and covered her hand with mine. Connie stiffened and looked at my hand on top of hers. “I always wondered,” she choked out, “why your skin was so cool. I guess now I know.” I took my hand away and tried not to feel hurt. She was right: She needed time to deal. And if, after she had time to get used to the idea of what I was, she never wanted anything more to do with me, there’d be plenty of time for me to learn to deal. The rest of my undead life. I made up my mind I wasn’t going to think about that now. Connie rubbed her arms like she was feeling chilled all over. “Why did he—the other vampire—kill Sullivan?” “I don’t know for sure but I aim to find out. It was senseless. There was no reason for Will to kill Sullivan that I can see. Unless…” “Unless what?” “You had your back to them when Will first came along, but I was facing them. Right before he got attacked, I saw Sullivan talking to Will outside. Sullivan looked all casual at first, and then his expression changed, like he ’d just remembered who he was talking to.” “Maybe he knew him from somewhere before tonight and only just then realized it.” “Yeah. But where?” “You said Sullivan was a vampire’s servant. You mean Iban’s?” she asked, putting two and two together. That’s my girl. “Yeah. Do you have an idea?” “Maybe. Did Iban ever meet Will?” “No. Not that I know of. What are you thinking?” “Maybe they’d met somewhere before and Will had done something he knew the other vampires —the good vampires— wouldn’t approve of, like killing innocent humans. Iban is one of the good guys, right?” “Definitely. The best I know.” I would have said that about William a few days ago. I was still reeling from learning he ’d killed innocent homeless people in the tunnels. “You might be on to something. I should go and ask Iban about it. Before it’s too late.” “What’s that supposed to mean? Is something wrong with Iban? Is that what the big emergency was that caused Sullivan to go running out of my apartment the other night?”

Crap. I’d said too much. Again. “Yeah,” I admitted. “Yeah. Iban’s got some kind of vampire plague. It’s bad. Really bad.” “Are the rest of you exposed?” Connie looked alarmed. “Jack—are you in danger?” I nodded. “Connie, there’s no easy way to tell you this, and you have to promise not to tell anybody else so as not to cause a panic. Not only are the rest of us vampires at risk, but you may be, too.” Connie’s eyes grew wide again. “Oh, my God,” she gasped. Yep, you could say this was not a good night for her.

William I opened my eyes. The heavy weight of my—of Diana’s ring seemed to burn the flesh of my finger. I pulled it off. Jack, I called without rising from the floor of my office. I had to know what had happened, what Will had done. If he ’d killed Jack I should know, feel diminished. But after the emotional avalanche of discovering Diana’s existence and her potent connection to her lord, Hugo, I felt numb to all but despair. Could things possibly be as bad as they looked? Jack. What? came his surprised and decidedly irritated response. Obviously he was alive and well, but not altogether happy. Welcome to my world. May as well join the hell-bound procession. What has Will done? Whose blood is on his hands? Jack didn’t answer right away. I probed harder but he was blocking me. I pushed up to a sitting position and focused my anger in his direction. It was Sullivan, Jack shot back. I told you to keep an eye on Will. How could you let this happen? Hey, he’s your—He stopped. I could feel him drawing in a breath. I did the best I could. Connie shot him in the chest, but it was too late. Connie? What the hell are you doing getting her involved in our business? It’s not like I had a choice. You know what, the next time you need a babysitter, why don’t you— Stop! If you feel no loyalty to me then recognize that you are still sworn to me for another forty years. You will do as I say until I’m finished with you. It looked as though Jack and I were to remain adversaries after all. I felt besieged. There had been too much wanting and needing and not enough doing. It was two hours until dawn. Time to retrieve Iban from Tilly ’s and to take him to Isle of Hope. Time to make a plan on how to organize this sudden chaos, how to tell Iban that his companion was dead, killed by the son of my body. I opened the door on my way out and found Eleanor in the hallway. She drew herself up straighter to face me. “We need to talk.” The last thing I wanted to do…but necessary. No sense keeping Eleanor on edge about our precarious position. The strong wind blowing over our house of cards would collapse us all soon enough. We would, every one of us, be required to put up a fight. I nodded. She turned and walked away, expecting me to follow. “Tell me,” she said, looking fearful and suddenly very humanlike.

We’d reached what until a few days ago had been our master suite. To me, as a being who’d lived for hundreds of years, our honeymoon had passed more briefly than a breath. It was unfortunate that Eleanor had chosen to become a blood drinker only to be faced immediately by this terrible uncertainty: the good chance her newly forged immortality would be revoked and she would die along with her blood ties to me. It was like honeymooning on the Titanic. I crossed the room and poured us both a glass of donated blood. When I held the glass out to her she shook her head. I insisted. “Gerard says we all must feed to keep up our strength. He’s found a cure for the sickness plaguing Iban but there’s no prevention yet.” I didn’t tell her we should be feeding on humans. Selfishly I didn’t want her out on the streets alone. I could only hope that by keeping her here, I’d keep her safe. She spent a long time looking into my eyes before accepting the glass. “I wasn’t sure you cared what happened to me anymore.” Ah, females and their intuition. She’d felt my physical and mental withdrawal. I searched for the feelings I’d shared so openly with her, but seeing Diana had turned them to stone as completely as I’d cursed my wicked sire, Reedrek. How does one break stone? Possibly only with a hammer and a chisel. Or the heat of the sun. “Who is she?” “My…wife.” “You told me your wife was dead—killed hundreds of years ago.” “Yes, and until last night I believed that to be true.” “She’s here, in Savannah?” She put down the half-empty glass and sank onto the leather ottoman. With stricken eyes she stared up at me. “Alive, a blood drinker, and here?” Eleanor needed my touch, my reassurance, but I had none to offer. I stood frozen in place. “Yes, I’m afraid so.” Our gazes remained locked for a long time. Then a log on the fire in the hearth popped and settled with a thud, goading me into motion. I set my glass down next to hers, bent, and raised her hand to my lips. “As your sire—” I kissed her wrist. “—I’ll do my utmost to protect you. Stay here where you’ll be safe.” She pulled her hand from my touch and rubbed the spot I’d kissed as though it would bruise. “Protect me from what?” Then, before I could answer, she added, “You’re leaving?” “Yes. You’ll be safe here.” From everyone but me. If I stayed I’d be buffeted by Eleanor’s and Melaphia’s pain; I had to get clear, to shut all the doors of emotion and concentrate on survival. There was no time to comfort or to love. No reason to punish those around me, like Deylaud, with my raging despair. Eleanor pushed to her feet. “Are you going to her?” I thought of watching Diana in her bath and desire must’ve flared in my eyes or simmered from my mind to Eleanor’s because she drew in a swift breath. “No, not to her.” I opened my mind and presented her a brief vision of Hugo with his hands on Diana, accompanied by the blast of pain coiled inside me. Eleanor gasped and brought a hand up to cover her heart. “Not to her,” I said again, and walked away.

Iban looked better than he had a right to, considering that he’d been literally rotting away mere hours before. Melaphia’s blood truly had worked magic. I had a difficult time finding any true elation since the giving of that magic had caused her such harm, but Iban seemed truly grateful and inquired about his savior almost immediately on seeing me. Sitting up and dressed in fresh clothes provided by Tilly, he seemed nearly his old self. His face still bore the occasional lump that moved under his skin but there were no open wounds, no egregious smells. “I owe her everything,” he said of Melaphia. “And you as well, my lady,” he said to Tilly. Tilly blushed like a schoolgirl, then collected herself. “Our lovely city may have lost a good bit of its civility in the last sixty years, but I wouldn’t hear of any visitor as charming as yourself being treated so abominably.” “Your servant, madame,” Iban said with a nod. As Gerard loaded his medical supplies into my Mercedes, Iban and I said our good-byes to Tilly. “I’ve come to relieve you of nursing duty,” I informed her. “You look done in.” I didn’t want to add Tilly’s name as one more person injured by their association with me. “To tell the truth, you’re right. This growing old business leaves a lot to be desired.” She patted my arm, most likely remembering a time when she’d had a choice about her fate. She sighed in satisfaction. “But it was nice being needed again. For a brief time it felt like the old days. It’s been too long a time since you and I were embroiled in life and death shenanigans.” “Yes, it has. And I hope to leave you well out of any further emergencies. But I thank you for your care in this one.” I moved to help Iban. “I can manage,” he said, once he was on his feet. We drove in silence, Iban in the front, Gerard in the backseat, until I turned onto the road to Isle of Hope. “Where are we headed?” Iban asked. He’d been to my home in town enough times to know the way. “To the house on Isle of Hope. We can spend the day there with Lucius.” “I sent Tobey and Travis back across country to track down the true source of the virus,” Gerard added. “Good,” Iban replied. “The better I feel, the angrier I become about this attack.” I used the rest of the drive to explain what had happened since Iban had fallen ill, beginning with Hugo, Diana, and Will. For my own reasons, I didn’t tell them about Will being my mortal son. I spent most of my time discussing Hugo. When we were settled in the living room of my house overlooking the Skidaway River, I was forced to fill in the last and most grievous news. “I have more bad news,” I warned. Iban gave me a surprised glance. “Sullivan is dead.” Gerard reacted before Iban. “What?” Turning to stare straight ahead out the front window, Iban said, “He had the virus, too.” A statement, not a question. “No—I mean, perhaps. But that’s not what killed him. He was murdered.” This time Iban reacted, his voice deadly. “By whom?”

“By one of the newcomers—Will. I thought Sullivan would be safe at Jack ’s shop. Now I regret my faith in Jack.” I didn’t mention my miscalculation in leaving Will there. I’d simply been obsessed with getting to the shells, and spying on Diana. Reaching for my own personal happiness had once again bloodied my nose, and in this case cost us a stalwart friend in Sullivan. How would I feel if it had been Melaphia or Renee? “I should have been there to protect him,” Iban said, meaning Sullivan. Then he looked at me. “Or you should have. Have you retaliated against this newcomer?” “That’s what we must discuss tonight, in the time we have left before dawn. There are no tunnels from this house or the plantation, where Will, Hugo, and Diana are. None of us will be able to move until sunset. By that time we must be ready.” The planning part of our meeting did not go as well as I’d hoped. “I think it’s time to choose a new leader,” Lucius said immediately. “Before William gets us all killed.” I didn’t make a sound, but I was sure the other three vampires in the room could feel my displeasure. “I mean, look what happened. We’re assured these new vamps are being controlled by a hostage. And what does the hostage do? He kills one of ours. What kind of plan was that?” “At the least, an ineffective one,” Iban said, looking at me with anger in his eyes for the first time in our acquaintance. “You’re blinded by your feelings for the past—your mortal wife,” Lucius said. “I understand, but—” “It will be the end of us,” Iban added, finishing Lucius’s thought. Why did everyone feel free to delve into my past? Then again, what did it matter? It’s not as if I had any defense to offer. I had been blinded by the need to ride the shells into a peek of Diana’s life with Hugo. I had stolen the ring from Will, then left him at Jack’s shop basically on his own recognizance. Fool. Fool. Three times a fool. When I didn ’t answer quickly enough for Iban’s liking, he pushed to his feet, growing more agitated by the second. He’d been shocked to hear of Sullivan’s death, but now he was filling with good old-fashioned fury. I rose to my feet as well in response to the implied threat. “Sullivan was mine to protect,” Iban said. “Now he’s dead along with the rest of my clan. I say we tear this Hugo and everyone with him into pieces too small to resurrect.” I raised a placating hand. “Iban—” “Don’t talk to me of restraint! I no longer care for your version of peace.” Unable to contain his anger, he picked up the heavy mahogany coffee table and threw it across the room. As it crashed against the wall and sent shards of wood and plaster tumbling across the carpet, Gerard and Lucius jumped to their feet. “Please, Iban. I’m sorry about Sullivan—” He hit me square in the chest, his momentum pushing me backward. I didn’t want to fight him and did my best to hold him away. Suddenly Lucius grasped him from behind. Though Iban was only at three -quarter strength because of his illness, it took both of us to pin him against the wall and hold him still. “Fighting among ourselves won’t solve anything, old friend,” Lucius hissed into Iban’s ear. “Rather let’s pay a visit to their people left on the boat.” He pinned me with his angry gaze. “We’ll do better than kill them; we’ll use them as our tools.” All the fight seemed to go out of Iban. There were tears in his eyes. “I have no one now.” He stared at me and vowed, “The one who did this will not live.”

Jack

“Dammit!” William had blocked me. Well, just be that way. He could ride herd on his own whelp from now on, until I got the chance to kill that sonofabitch Will. I wasn’t taking the fall for what happened to Sullivan. And I didn’t want to have to face Iban until I’d sent that evil redheaded bloodsucker to hell where he belonged. Surely William would break the news to Iban—that is, if Iban still lived. I felt guiltily glad that I wouldn’t have to do it. I hated to face Connie again, after the news I’d just given her. But there was no help for it. “We don’t know if humans can catch the virus or not,” I said. “Sullivan could’ve been exposed by Iban or another clan member, and since we aren’t sure how it’s passed, there’s a chance he might have exposed you.” I left unsaid what I didn’t want to think about: the more intimate contact Sullivan and Connie had, the more likely Connie might have been infected. Connie was as brave in the face of this news as she’d been facing down a vampire coming at her throat, but I could tell by the set of her brows that she was worried. Who wouldn’t be? “I see,” she finally said. “How will I know if I have it?” I thought about Iban’s face and shuddered. “Believe me. You’ll know.” “You’re scaring me. Do you have it?” “No. Definitely not.” “How will I know when I’m in the clear?” “We have somebody looking into it. He’s a very smart scientist and a member of our…community.” “Another vampire?” “Yeah. I have a lot of confidence in him. He can get to the bottom of this if anybody can. Since you ’re on vacation this week anyway, why don’t you just lay low in your apartment?” “So I won’t spread it to anybody else, you mean,” she said, and blanched. She might not have been afraid for herself, but I could tell she was afraid for people she might have come in contact with since she met Sullivan. “Yeah. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything from Gerard. In the meantime, I guess we can at least be grateful that Sullivan didn’t show any signs of being sick before he was killed.” Connie propped her elbows on the table and clasped her head in her hands. “I feel like my head’s about to explode with all I’ve seen and everything you’ve told me tonight. I still have so many questions.” “And I’ll give you all the answers I can. I promise. But it has to wait for another night. The sun’s almost up.” “So you have to go to sleep,” she said. “In a coffin.” I nodded without saying anything about the coffin. I could tell by her guarded expression that for my sake she was trying to tamp down her revulsion. At least she was polite. “I’ll be sleeping on the couch in the office with the door locked since I don’t have time to get home before sunup. Light can’t get in there.” “Before I go, I have to know one more thing.” I took a deep breath, knowing exactly what she would ask, but not knowing what I should tell her. “What happened between us that night, Jack? What happened when we tried to make love?” “I don’t know. If I did, I’d tell you. Honest.” “I don’t believe you.”

So much for vampires being good liars. I licked my lips, which had gone completely dry. “I think it has to do with what I am…and what you are.” “What do you mean, what I am? Do you mean a human being and a vampire can’t make love? What about William and that friend of his—Eleanor?” she said. Eleanor—still another story for another night. “That’s not it. A human and a vampire can get it on. Usually.” “So why didn’t it work for us?” Her eyes searched mine. Any more attempts on my part to hide the truth were unthinkable. “You know how Melaphia thinks you’re special.” “Yes. She seems to think I’m a—a psychic or something, I don’t know. I can’t relate to all that voodoo stuff.” “She thinks you’re somehow more than human.” “More than human? What’s that supposed to mean? What am I, Jack?” “If I understand her right, she says you have certain…powers, or gifts, I guess you could call them.” Connie looked at me like she wanted to throw a vampire-size butterfly net over my head and haul me to the state mental hospital in Milledgeville. “Uh-huh?” she prompted. “And she also thinks whatever you are, well, it doesn’t mix with vampires. Kind of like oil and water.” Connie cast her gaze about the room, thinking back to what had happened. “There was some sort of a reaction, wasn’t there? It was almost chemical or electrical or something. Remember?” Hell yes, I remembered. I almost went up in flames because of the contact I ’d had with her. If it hadn’t been for Melaphia’s healing voodoo charm I might have vaporized. “Yeah,” I said. “I remember.” “So does Melaphia know what I am?” “Not exactly. She’s trying to figure it out. ” That much was true. As far as I knew, Mel had not closed the book on her investigation. I figured there was no use in telling Connie that Mel ’s working theory was that she might be a Mayan goddess. I mean, what did you do with information like that anyway? Traipse down to Belize to find your roots? Enroll in a Learning Annex “Get in Touch with Your Inner Goddess” course? Melaphia would be a lot better at explaining it than I would, so I decided to let it slide. “In any case, she doesn’t think you’re a hundred percent…well…human.” “Not human! Not human?” Disgusted, Connie got up from the table and stalked away to retrieve her purse. I hurried after her, realizing I’d stumbled across the line, the line between what she could handle and what she couldn’t, at least for one night. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I know you’ve been hit with a lot of stuff tonight. Stuff that’s hard to get used to.” Connie bit off a hysterical laugh. “That’s the understatement of the century. And you ought to know about not being human, right, Jack?” “Try not to let it upset you.” I started to tell her some of the nicest people I knew weren’t human—like Huey, for instance—but I had a feeling that claim might add insult to injury.

“You tell me I’m some inhuman creature and I’m not supposed to be upset?” Connie slung the straps of her bag over one shoulder, pulled her coat close around her, and started toward the door. After a few steps, she turned around and pointed at me. “Why should I even believe you? You’re not human yourself.” “Because I care about you. If you don’t believe anything else I’ve told you tonight, believe that. Please.” She was shaking now, at the very end of her endurance. I wanted to hug her to my chest until she stopped trembling, but I knew that would be the wrong thing to do. She stared at me for what seemed like minutes, as if she was trying to reconcile what she ’d learned about me tonight with her feelings about me—whatever they were. Then, finally, she said, “None of this is real. You’re…not…real.” Connie turned and walked out, leaving me and my unreal and undead self staring after her. Wondering if I would ever see her again and if I did, whether it would be at the business end of a wooden stake.

Fourteen

William The ringing of the telephone interrupted our meeting. Another modern invention I was sure caused more irritation than good. “What did you do to him?” Diana’s savage voice sent a shock of surprise through me, not only because she’d managed to find me at Isle of Hope through questioning my household, but also because I was convinced that she’d be at my throat if we’d been physically facing each other. I wasn’t in the mood for her anger. I had enough of my own. “What are you talking about?” “Will,” she hissed. “Our son. I trusted you—” “Don’t speak to me of trust. Will has killed one of ours. I have a perfect right to do what I wish with him. Where is he?” I had no intention of revealing that I’d seen him return to the plantation with my invisible eyes. The shells would remain my secret. I told myself I’d brought them along when I left Houghton Square as a precaution. Yet I’m not really sure. “He’s here—” Her voice broke, and she cleared her throat to recover. “He’s injured. I’m not sure how. He can’t remember. He’s weak and disoriented. I’ve never seen him like this.” She regained her anger. “What happened to him last night?” What happened, indeed? He’d killed Sullivan. Sullivan had come from California and had been the last remaining living human companion of the California clan. Could it be possible? Could Will have contracted the plague? I dredged up my coldest tone, both for my own protection and the benefit of my audience. “Perhaps you should be more concerned about the damage he’s done. I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Stay put, all of you, or face open war.” I hung up before she could reply. “What is this new emergency?” Lucius asked. “Our hostage seems to have sickened,” I said, keeping my face perfectly blank. “The one who killed Sullivan?” Iban asked, then continued without requiring an answer. “Let him rot.” A potent threat since Iban had so recently been doing that very thing. I faced him. “Unfortunately, I can’t.” Warily, Lucius took the bait. “And why not?” Without looking directly at Iban I admitted the truth. “Because he’s my son, my mortal son whom I lost in my making.” There was a deafening silence in answer to my pronouncement, then Iban jumped to his feet. “And what of my friend, one who was like a son to me? The last of my clan?” His hands fisted, he crossed the room in my direction. “Where is his justice?”

Before I could answer, Gerard and Lucius had flanked Iban, each taking an arm to keep him from attacking me. “Come now, Iban,” Lucius said, in a voice one might use to calm a suicidal jumper balanced on the edge of a roof. “You’re not yourself. Don’t make William separate your newly healed head from your shoulders. It would hurt like the devil and ruin this lovely rug.” Iban’s expression crumpled into tired despair. He was one more being I’d disappointed in the last few tumultuous days, but I could not allow Will to rot without any effort to save him. I also could not divide the loyalties of my allies over my personal problems. I faced Lucius. “You’re right about my objectivity. So, with you two as my witnesses—” I gestured toward Iban and Gerard. “—I hand over the leadership of the New World vampires to you. Save as many as you can.” I turned to Gerard. “As a friend, I ask you to come and see to my son. None of them will harm you as long as I live.” “Of course,” he answered. “Not only for your sake but for all our sakes. We must contain this plague if he has in fact been infected.” He gently shook Iban’s arm. “I suggest you get some badly needed rest. We will need you before this is over.” Iban nodded, and Lucius took charge of settling him into a guest coffin. In fifteen minutes, Gerard and I were hurtling down the tree-lined lane of the plantation. I knew as I paced up the front steps that this house, once my haven, would never look the same to me now after seeing Diana here, in the flesh. The memory of her would forever haunt me and this place, regardless of the outcome. Hugo blocked the entrance, another strike against my former residence. I wasn’t in the mood to play vampire games. “This is my home, therefore I don’t need to be invited in,” I said before brushing past him. “Besides, your…mate has called for my assistance.” “Your wife,” he said, stopping me in my tracks. At that moment Diana paced into the room, looking angry and worried. Gerard gave Hugo and me a wide berth and went to Diana. “Where is the patient?” he asked. Diana looked at me. “This is Gerard. He’s a doctor, a scientist,” I explained. She hesitated only a moment before nodding. “This way,” she said, and led him from the room. I wanted to follow and to see Will with my own eyes. But there was still Hugo to deal with. Shuttering my thoughts, I helped myself to a cognac from the sideboard. As I did I noticed two used glasses sitting on top of the polished surface. A sniff told me they held the dregs of my best Lafite Rothschild Bordeaux. It had oxidized to the color of dried blood. “I see you’ve made yourself at home in my home,” I said. Hugo moved up behind me, and it took a great deal of concentration not to whirl and face him. He chuckled as though he could read the distrust in my mind. Then he held up a clean glass to be filled. “Yes, we’ve both enjoyed your hospitality. Your wife is especially fond of the bathtub in the master suite. There ’s nothing she likes better before a good fuck.” He sighed loudly as I poured the cognac. “I’m afraid we may have ripped some of your sheets and curtains in our eagerness. Feel free to send me a bill.” I managed to keep my hand steady enough not to clang the bottle against the fragile rim of the Waterford goblet. Hugo smiled and raised the glass in a mocking toast before taking a deep swallow. I hoped he choked on it. Sipping at my own drink, I wondered at his composure. Diana had been frantic over Will’s injury but

Hugo did not betray any worry. Perhaps he was better at hiding his feelings. Then I remembered what Will had said about Hugo hoping that I would kill him. “You don’t seem very put out by Will’s condition,” I said. “Not like, as you say, my wife.” “You’re right, I don’t have an opinion about him. If there’s a question you wish to ask me, ask it. Otherwise, deal with her.” Was there a question? I spoke before thinking. “Do you love them?” Hugo had just taken another gulp of cognac, and upon hearing my question had to clap his hand over his mouth to keep from spraying the room. After swallowing he went into a coughing-laughing fit that nearly brought him to his knees. “By Christ! Do I what?” he mimicked as he tried to catch his breath. “Love them,” I persisted, having no clue why I expected him to answer truthfully. My determination seemed to chase all the humor from the room. He straightened, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and glared at me. “I own them. That’s enough.” “What do you mean—” “William.” Gerard interrupted. He was standing in the hallway door, a dark expression on his features. “It’s the plague,” he stated. My throat closed. It was one thing for Will to be killed in an all-out vampire free-for-all, fighting on his own two feet. It was quite another to watch him rot. For a moment I was too shocked to speak, but Hugo reacted instantly. He tossed away his half -filled glass. “Get Diana away from him!” he ordered, and headed for Gerard. I grabbed his arm as he passed me and sent my own glass in the same direction as his. “How do you know she’s in danger?” There, I’d finally thought of a pertinent question. Hugo made to twist away but I shoved him backward and followed the momentum. “Vampires are immune to disease, as I’m sure you’re aware. What do you know about this particular sickness?” “He wasn’t supposed to get it, only deliver it,” Hugo growled before grappling with my hold. Gerard ran across the room and the two of us held Hugo immobile. “He was sent to California. Not here. He wasn’t supposed to bring it here! Get her out of there!” A high keening wail filled the room, so shrill that every crystal glass on the sideboard exploded into shooting stars of broken glass. “No!” Hugo gasped, forcing me to turn and see what he was facing. The screech had come from Diana. Her face was transformed into a killing mask, her mermaidlike hair floating around her head on an invisible tide. She cast about for a weapon and wrapped her fingers around the fireplace poker. Another furious screech burst forth from her and the glass panes in the front door shattered as she launched herself in our direction. I braced myself for her attack, but a fraction of a second before she reached us I realized Diana was staring at Hugo, aiming at Hugo, with hatred so pure it hit all three of us like a lightning strike. Gerard and I were knocked to the floor by the collision. But Hugo remained a few feet off the carpet pressed against the wall, held prisoner by Diana’s will. “It was you who poisoned my son?” The poker sank into his chest and penetrated the wall behind him with a crunch. Plaster rained down around the two of us on the floor. Hugo gasped in pain but made no effort to save himself. Floating in front of him, Diana went silent, and if possible, looked even more deadly. She yanked the poker free, tearing his flesh with the hooked end, and plunged it back in, this time into his

stomach. He choked and coughed up blood, which soaked the front of his shirt. Held immobile, he managed to move his fingers but little else. “Damn you!” Hissing like a cobra, Diana tore the poker free again and began to hit Hugo in the face. Once, twice, until blood dripped from his beard. She couldn’t kill him with such a weapon but she could damage him…severely. But, if she somehow did manage to kill him, it would be the end of her, since he was her sire. We were all spattered with his blood by this time. I couldn’t stand to watch. Even though I had absolutely no love for Hugo, I loved Diana. I suppose I held a secret hope that somewhere inside she remained my lovely girl. If I never had her for my own again, I didn’t want to remember her like this. My feet left the floor as I rose into the air, putting myself between Diana and her prey. She brought down the poker for the next blow. I waited for the strike to fall, for the pain, but no more than half an inch from my cheekbone, the bloody poker stopped. Diana’s gaze never left Hugo, her terrible intent filled the distance between them. But she’d interrupted the delivery, I hoped for my sake, although she stared past me as one ignores a stranger. “Stop.” The only word I could utter at that moment. Then: “Please.” I couldn’t articulate my thoughts, my horror at this killing monster whom I loved. Hugo moaned behind me, then pushed a few words through his broken mouth. “Let her be, you bastard.” I had asked Hugo if he loved Diana. What kind of love allowed its object to take his very life? Without complaint or explanation. Without fighting back. The answer came to me in his own word: ownership. If she killed him, he would still have her at his side in hell. I turned on him then. No one would stop me from killing him if I chose, least of all Diana. “What of a cure? If you made it, you must have a way to stop it.” He wagged his bloody head back and forth, his spit bubbling red as he spoke. “Reedrek. He had it made.” “By whom and for what purpose?” Hugo shook his head again, then sputtered, baring bloody broken teeth. “To bind you, or kill you all.” The hate-charged air shifted beneath my feet and I crashed to the floor. Even as I marveled at Diana ’s power, she used that power to fling Hugo away from her to the farthest corner of the room, then tossed the bent and dripping poker after him. She took a moment to blot Hugo’s blood from her face and regain her composure. A second later she was facing me. “Can you save our son?” I looked at Gerard. He pushed to his feet with one dubious glance in Hugo ’s direction before shrugging. “I don’t know. We were working on a vaccine, but the process will take time.” Then his attention settled on me. “Is Jack involved in this?” I knew what he meant. Had Jack been contaminated along with Will when Sullivan was killed? Even as furious as I was with Jack, the thought sent a jagged slice of fear through me. Not Jack. Not Jack, what? came the answer from Jack himself. Sullivan was infected. Will is rotting. Crap.

Jack Sleep was out of the question.

I made my way through the tunnels to William’s. I had to know what was going on. Was Gerard making any progress figuring out how to cure the virus? Was Connie going to die because I’d introduced her to a friend of a friend? I wouldn’t let my mind go there. Just because you’re a vampire doesn’t mean you can’t go insane. When I entered William’s vault I saw a form covered by a sheet and stretched out on a recycled wooden door. That would be Sullivan. I started to cross myself before I remembered that wasn’t such a hot idea. Or maybe too hot. I was raised Catholic; old habits—even really old habits—are hard to break. I climbed the stairs and went through the kitchen. Deylaud was cooking and Reyha was fussing over two trays. Strange. It was almost daylight. They should be preparing to make the change into their four footed forms. I’d always wondered how they looked when they did it. Was it like in the werewolf movies? “What’s going on?” I asked. “Jack, I’m glad you’re here,” Deylaud said. His twin walked toward me and put her head against my chest, linking her arms around my waist. “Me too. I haven’t seen you in so long,” Reyha said. “Get back to work, sister, we don’t have much time,” Deylaud said sharply. It sounded almost like a bark. That was freaky. “Oh, yes.” She hurried to the refrigerator and started moving things around, looking for something. “We’re making breakfast for Melaphia and Renee. They’re both asleep in the guest room.” I got a bad feeling. “Why aren’t they in their own beds?” Deylaud sprinkled cheese into an omelette pan and looked over at me. “Oh, that’s right. I guess you don’t know.” “Know what?” “Melaphia let Iban feed from her,” Reyha blurted, pouring juice into glasses. “How nasty is that?” I swallowed against a wave of nausea. Poor Mel. That must have been what the tense conversation between her and William at the garage had been about. As much as I liked Iban, I hated the thought of my Mel having to let the thing he ’d become feed from her flesh. And I hated the thought of William having to ask her to do it. “Did it work?” “Yes. That’s the good part. He’s much better. He was even well enough to leave here with Wi—with my master and Gerard a little while ago.” Deylaud divided the huge omelette, stuffed with diced ham and cheese, onto two plates, each of which already held toast and buttered cheese grits. The smell made me wish I could eat human food again. “Where’d they go?” I knew from the mind message William had sent that they’d gone to see Will, but I didn’t know where. “The plantation, I think,” Deylaud said, and licked his fingers. That’s when I noticed the bruises on his neck. “What happened to you?” Reyha stifled a little inhuman whine but didn’t say anything. Deylaud blinked back rising tears and shook his head. “It will heal. Would you take this tray to Melaphia and Renee? Mel needs to build up her strength. She was pretty weak when William brought her in.” “Sure.” Whatever had gone down, the manimal wasn’t in the mood to share. Or maybe, he just didn’t have the time. “Hurry,” he managed. I could feel more than see the first rays of the sun coming in through the tiny slits in the closed blinds of the east-facing windows. “Here comes the sun.” Deylaud’s head gave a jerk forward as he fumbled for the buttons of his shirt. On the other side of the table, Reyha shimmied out

of her simple shift. She wore no underwear, the peaks of her small breasts stiffening in the cool air. “I like this dress,” she managed to say before her body contorted and she bent forward, putting her palms on the floor. Deylaud had managed to get out of his clothes by that time, too, and the show began. The bones popping was the worst part. Well, that and the humanoid heads reforming themselves into the slender snouts of sighthounds. Talk about a hair -raising sight, if you’ll pardon the expression. Fingers and toes became paws with claws. Tails sprouted from their backsides, necks elongated, shoulders and hips narrowed with awful crunching sounds. The whole thing defied the laws of physics and nature. But hell, what else was new? Welcome to the jungle. The transformation was pretty gruesome. I didn’t want to look but I couldn’t turn away. And to think they went through this every twelve hours in their service to William. I made a mental note to buy some dog treats. Expensive ones. When it was done, Reyha stretched, trotted over to me with a doggie smile on her face and nudged my hand with her silky head. I scratched her between the ears and murmured, “Good girl.” I gave her a piece of ham from the cutting board and she gobbled it up with an enthusiastic tail wag. She then trotted back over to her abandoned dress, picked it up in her mouth by the hem, and dragged it away toward her room. Deylaud appeared on my other side. He refused the ham but allowed me to rub his sore neck. I guess a little comfort was better than nothing. After I’d obliged him, he went to the door that separated the kitchen from the hallway to the stairs and looked back at me. “I’m coming,” I said. The tray was crowded with the plates of food, two glasses of orange juice, one of milk, and a mug of black coffee. I followed Deylaud into the hallway. Light streamed in through the windows on either side of the front door, but Deylaud trotted over and worried the curtain tiebacks with his teeth until they were undone and the draperies fell across the windows, blocking the sun. He sat solemnly and watched me start up the stairs with the tray. When I got to the landing Eleanor came out of the master bedroom, looking almost as wild as the night she was made. She should’ve been downstairs all snug in her coffin like a good vampire. Instead she looked a couple cans short of a six-pack. “What do you know about her?” Oh, shit. “Who?” “Don’t play games with me. You know damn well who.” I set the tray down on the antique hall table. What could I tell her? What should I tell her? Sorry, babe, the love of your life just had his wife come back to him after five hundred years. I hate it for ya, but haven’t you heard? Death’s a bitch. “What did William tell you?” I asked cautiously. “He’s acting crazy. He came in earlier with Melaphia and wouldn’t speak. Then he nearly killed Deylaud. When I begged him to tell me what was wrong, he said his wife still exists and she’s here in Savannah. “Where does that leave me, Jack? What am I supposed to do? I gave up my soul for him!” Her eyes searched mine for an answer, her anguish so real you could feel it radiate off her skin. “I don’t know what to tell you, El. Honest, I don’t.” She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling. I sensed it was as much from rage as from sorrow. “Is she beautiful?” “Yes. But not as beautiful as you.” She tried to smile but it fizzled. “If he’s not back here at sunset, I’m going to find him.”

“I’ll go with you. For now, why don’t you go down to the vault and get some sleep. I ’ll join you in a few minutes. There’s nothing I can do until sunset either.” Eleanor started down the stairs. At the bottom, Deylaud waited, wagging his tail. “I do know one thing,” I thought to add. Eleanor turned and looked back at me. “She’s not the same woman he knew,” I said. “Not the same woman he loved.” I don’t exactly know how I could be so sure, but I was. She lifted her chin and smiled, then continued down the stairs. I turned to get the tray and almost ran into Renee. “Hello, sugar. What are you doing out of bed?” “I heard you and Miss Eleanor talking,” she said. “And I smelled breakfast.” “How’s your mom? Is she ready to eat, too?” She shrugged her small shoulders. “No. She only woke up long enough to say she didn’t feel like eating and wanted to go back to sleep.” “Okay, then. Let’s take this in the library and let your mom rest.” Renee followed me into the library at the end of the hall. She had her own small collection of books on a child -high bookshelf William had set up for her. A cherrywood library table was strewn with some of the aged books and maps William was always poring over looking for God knew what. There was also a child’s table and chairs—antique, of course—in the corner of the room. I set the tray on the low table and turned on a floor lamp since the heavy drapes blocked any daylight. I sat down in the child -size chair opposite Renee, my knees drawn up to my chest. When she was younger, she ’d had tea parties here. I have to admit I attended more than one of those. She nibbled at the food and drank most of the orange juice but didn’t seem very enthusiastic about the fare. “You not hungry?” I nudged the glass of milk a little closer to her. She shook her head. “I guess I’m a little out of sorts.” I hated for any ugliness to intrude on Renee’s peace of mind. Her little-girl world should be all about frilly dresses, pink hair bows, candy canes, and giggles. Instead she was in the middle of a vampire war. It made me unspeakably sad. Add that to what I’d just gone through with Connie and what I had to look forward to when I evened the score with Will whether William liked it or not, and I couldn’t remember ever being so hopeless. “You look like you’re out of sorts, too, Uncle Jack,” Renee said, and took a sip of the milk. “What’s wrong?” “Remember the lady in the white-and-gold dress you met at the party?” “The lady police? You like her a lot, don’t you?” “That’s the one, and, yes, I do. But she found out I’m a vampire tonight, and I’m afraid she doesn’t like me anymore. She says I’m not real.” “Not real?” Renee set down the glass and looked as if she couldn’t believe her ears. “That’s what she said,” I confirmed. This had to be the lowest I’d sunk in my lonely life—discussing my love life with a child. Renee got up from the table and went to her bookshelf. As meticulous as her mentor, William, she went right to the book she wanted. I’m sure they were sorted by author and title. She slid the book off the shelf, walked over to me, and took me by the hand. She led me to the rocking chair on the other side of the room, and when I sat, she crawled into my lap. It had been a long time

since she’d sat in my lap. She was getting to be a big girl now, and I had supposed sadly that she thought she was too old for such things. “The Velveteen Rabbit,” I said, looking at the book’s tattered cover. “That’s a good one.” “This is a special book,” she said. “I want to read you this one very important page.” “I’m all ears.” I cuddled her in my arms as she carefully turned the pages. The top of her head fit just under my chin. Her hair was as soft as cotton candy. “Here it is,” she said. “It’s the part where the Velveteen Rabbit asks the Skin Horse what it means to be real.” She began to read.

“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.” Renee shut the book and twisted around to look up at me. “I love you, Uncle Jack,” she said. “So that makes you real.” “Thank you, baby,” I said. “I love you, too.” I took the book from her and laid it gently on the floor. Then I rocked the little girl who made me real until she went back to sleep.

Fifteen

William It took both Diana and me—she on one side, I on the other—to drag Hugo downstairs to a sleeping coffin. Gerard had gone back to my house in town with the intention of working through the day on the plague vaccine. Diana had surprised me with her concern for someone she’d so recently done her best to kill. As we stood over Hugo’s damaged but healing body I put my wonder into words. “It’s almost dawn. We could have just as easily dragged him outside to greet the sun and finish what you started.” Hugo grunted, looking up at us with an unreadable expression on his ruined face. Diana reached in to smooth his hair away from one particularly angry gash over his cheekbone. She spoke to me first. “No quick death for him. If Will dies from this treachery, Hugo and I will have many more things to discuss before I pour this so-called plague down his throat. No cure, indeed.” Then to Hugo she said, “We’ll have a fine time, won’t we, dear heart?” I might’ve been jealous of the endearment if it hadn’t been so laden with venom. She glanced at me as though to reinforce my position as bystander, then, without waiting for an answer, closed the coffin on her lover. On the way back upstairs to Will’s sickroom, I took her arm, the familiarity as natural as breathing. This crossroads of memory and present was enough to boggle the mind of a sane man, and mine had been teetering on the brink for several hundred years. How was I to tell the real from the imagined…or worse, the remembered? Will had fallen into a fitful sleep. He’d not yet begun to rot as noticeably as Iban had, but I knew it was only a matter of time. At this point, his handsome face was doughy with a greenish cast. I watched my wife fuss with the bed covers over my son, both lost to me for so many lifetimes, and my tongue could not stay still. “Why didn’t you contact me?” I had to know, even if the answer broke what remained of my splintered heart. “I would have come for you.” She looked at me then, some surprise in her gaze. “I would ask you the same.” “I didn’t know—” “Didn’t you, then?” She tilted her head and I felt the wispy touch of her mind reaching out to mine. She thought I was lying. I opened my mind briefly, allowing her to probe the grief I’d felt at losing her. She sighed and shook her head. “Reedrek used to visit us often,” she went on. “He told me about your conquests, your strength. He said with an entire world of open thighs at your disposal, you didn’t want me anymore.” Reedrek ruining my life in yet another way. Somehow I’d hoped to overcome Reedrek’s lies. I had the urge to free him from his hidden tomb of a prison and kill him outright. But killing him quick would be a mercy; even my accidentally freezing him into stone must have been a relief from his suffering. The last thing I would ever offer Reedrek was relief or mercy.

“He lied,” I said. “As simple as that?” “Yes, as simple and as traitorous. He swore he would allow you and Will to live if I became his monster. Then I had to watch him kill you. I would’ve traded my soul all over again for you if I’d known you survived.” Still unsure, she ignored my declaration. “The only part of you I managed to keep is Will.” She gazed down at our suffering son. “Hugo could not refuse me. And when the time came, Will chose to live as I do.” She glanced at me. “As we do.” “He doesn’t seem excessively happy with his choice. He informed me that Hugo hoped I would kill him. Will himself didn’t seem to care one way or the other.” Diana’s features hardened. “Hugo is like any male lion who takes over a pride. He wants to eat the young. His condition for making Will was my promise to never tell my son about his real father. “I should never have agreed. I wasn’t as strong then, and I couldn’t stand the thought of losing Will after losing you.” She gazed at me as though she was looking across the years. “Never in our world is a very long time.” I couldn’t argue with her about that. “Then you know what I’ve lived with—thinking I’d never have you again. Never know the man Will would become.” I moved closer to her, forcing her to look up to meet my eyes. “Have you missed me at all?” I asked, crowding in on her. She would have to step backward to get away. She placed a hand on my chest but didn’t push. “Even a little?” I whispered, leaning close to her mouth. Her chin came up until our breath was mingled, lips almost touching. But still she didn’t reply. Warming to the game, I stayed close. “Answer, or you’ll have none of me.” I felt more than saw her draw in a breath. Indignation? Desire? Anger? I had no way to know. I sent a tendril of memory from my mind to hers: a kiss shared five hundred years before. The melding of a husband and a wife. I could feel the liquid fire of her sexual power flow into me. Female vampires grow stronger from sex, sucking power from their male partners in return for ultimate pleasure for both. The depth of Diana’s well of passion reminded me that she and Hugo had been building sexual bonds for as long as we both had been soulless. Her capabilities for pleasure and pain were far stronger than I’d ever experienced. Some inner voice whispered, Danger. “Yes…” she breathed into my mouth. Her hand rose to the back of my neck, pulling me down, dragging my lips to hers. The pleasure, however, was fleeting. Will, as though he’d sensed the shift in her attention, moaned and pushed down the covers. Her mouth retreated. “Our son—” she mumbled. I could feel her confusion. Then Diana, like any doting mother, tucked the blanket back around Will. “What is this…plague your friend Gerard found in Will?” The change of subject forced me to collect myself. Her withdrawal had affected me more than I liked. At first, I thought better of scaring her with the truth, but then I remembered her attack on Hugo. She was no wilting flower who needed anyone’s protection. In a few passing seconds of thought, we’d become strangers again. “It’s something we’ve never seen before, a creeping rot that eats a body from the inside out.” “But our bodies heal—”

“Not from this. It takes longer for us to die, yet die we will, if left untreated.” “What is the treatment?” I saw a potential trap. In reality I suppose I didn’t trust her any more than she trusted me. I kept all thought of Melaphia out of my head and told a half-truth. “Gerard is a geneticist. He’s working on a vaccine but doesn’t know how long it will take or if it’ll work.” “Then he’s seen this before? In California?” “Yes, thanks to your—” The scene in my own bath suite flashed into my brain. “—your lover. He knows more than he’s told us. He immediately recognized the danger.” She frowned. “If he knows, then I’ll know in short order. I’ve been remiss in not paying attention to his plots with Reedrek. In truth, I didn’t care as long as I had Will.” She looked down at him. “I’ve been a fool—but no more.” Her gaze met mine. “No more.” Plots with Reedrek. I remembered the warnings Reedrek had given me about Hugo. I’d thought them only the ramblings of the doomed. Reedrek had said Hugo was coming; he’d told me Diana was alive, but I hadn’t listened. Although I could happily spend all of eternity without ever hearing his hoary old voice in my ears, perhaps another short conversation was in order. I would let him brag about his treachery. I made my excuses and left the room.

The shells transported me directly across town. The metal coffin smelled as sour as I remembered. But Reedrek, the doomed, remained frozen in place. Floating above him I rested an invisible hand on the center of his chest, the cold feel of touching a tomb, and called on Ghede, the trickster. “Wake up, you old bastard!” I ordered Reedrek. The stone beneath my palm shivered but he did not transform. “Here’s your chance. Wake up and face me.” A high buzzing filled my ears, as shrill as a scream. The sound lowered in tone and I could make out a word. “Heeeeeelp.” It sounded like true distress. The mere idea of discovering a weakness in my sire made me smile. I was determined to make him afraid of what I might have in store for his foreseeable future. I raised my hand, then struck him over his dead heart. “Wake!” With much creaking and crumbling and many clouds of dust, Reedrek began to lose his stony appearance. When he was at least half humanlike, I issued orders. “Tell me of this plague you and Hugo cooked up.” Reedrek tried to speak but the movement caused his lips to crack like ancient plaster, then bleed. He was part vampire, part cornerstone. He sputtered and drew in a long slow breath. “Hugo…” he whispered. “He has come…” “Tell me about the plague.” I could feel him uncoiling his power, testing its strength. Looking for a way to me. “Where are you?” he asked. “I’m anywhere I wish to be. Right now I wish to be here so you might enlighten me. Tell me what you ’ve done, or I’ll shut you

up for eternity.” He swallowed, glancing around the confined space. “How many have died?” He raised an arm to feel along the lid of his coffin as though he might touch my voice…or grasp my throat. “Too many,” I answered truthfully, then added the lie I’d come to implant. “Will is dead and Hugo is infected—a worm banquet. If you’re waiting for him to save you, you’ve made a fatal error.” “But—” “But what? Did you think to have a care with such a dangerous organism?” This confused him. Then he seemed to gather some of his former bluster. “You lie. We had a biochemist—foremost in the world. He said Hugo and I were immune—” I laughed in his astonished face. “What is this? You believed him? Tell me the whereabouts of this chemist, or there will be no one left to remember your existence.” Reedrek went silent for a long moment. “He’s well hidden, in the Old World. You’ll never find him.” His mind, more awake, probed further. “How have you been spared?” “Perhaps I haven’t. Perhaps I’m a ghost who takes pleasure in haunting you.” His expression soured. “There’s no pleasure in death for a blood drinker. And ghosts have no need for cures.” “Then I must live still since our little chat is so diverting to me.” “Fuck you.” When I didn’t rise to the bait he settled back. “So you found your son only to watch him die again. How delicious.” Then he seemed to recall our last encounter. “I wonder that you didn’t try to save him with your New World magic.” “And what would that be?” “Voodoo…” he snarled. “The tainted blood of savages running in your veins.” I let him talk. “Why do you need our cure when you have your own?”

Gerard returned shortly after sunset. During the daylight hours Diana and I had taken turns watching over Will as he slipped deeper into the illness. Once, when I’d been alone with him, he’d opened his eyes. “Do I know you?” he asked. “I feel like I should know you.” I nodded. “William Thorne, lately of Savannah. We hunted together last night.” He stared at me for a long time. I could see small shifts under his skin, pockets of rot that hadn ’t yet broken through to the surface. “We’re friends, then?” At the moment the answer seemed important to him. “Yes. Friends.” “Good. A bloke can’t have too many friends…” His voice trailed off as he fell into unconsciousness once more. I felt Diana

move up behind me, followed by Gerard. “He’s getting worse,” she said. Not a question. “Yes,” I agreed. “He doesn’t deserve this; I feel sure he was tricked by Hugo.” “He wasn’t tricked into killing Sullivan,” I snapped. She ignored me and turned to Gerard. “Is there anything you can do? Have you found the cure you were looking for?” “Not for certain, madam. I’m waiting for results of the latest tests. ” He cleared his throat. “May I speak to you outside, William?” “Of course.” Diana watched us leave the room with a look of concern, probably wondering what Gerard would have to discuss with me that she couldn’t hear. As we passed through the parlor, Hugo spoke. “Does he still live?” He looked a good deal better after his day’s sleep. His wounds had closed and the bones in his jaw had knitted. He still wore bruises like a mask over most of his face and he moved gingerly, half sitting, half lying on the settee. “Yes,” I answered. “But he deserves to die for his part in bringing this pestilence. And when he does, you ’ll follow shortly thereafter.” Hugo carefully pushed to his feet. “May as well get it over with.” The thought of Hugo offering to face me when he was clearly at a disadvantage stopped our progress through the room. “Are you in such a hurry to die, then?” He didn’t answer other than to square his shoulders and curl his hands into fists. Then it struck me. He was more afraid of facing Diana if Will died than he was of me. “You’re afraid of her,” I said in astonishment. “Not of her,” he answered. He swung one arm out. “Of this. Of her past.” Of me. Not death, but loss. A hopeless love. “Tell me Will’s part in your plan.” Hugo slowly crossed his arms over his chest. For a moment I thought he ’d decided not to answer. But then, after glancing toward the hallway where Diana now stood, he said, “He didn’t know anything. He was only supposed to feed the virus to the human bloodline and thus get it into the blood the clan would drink. I told him not to touch them otherwise.” “Was this Reedrek’s plot or your own?” Diana asked, moving into the room. Hugo looked down. “We had a pact. I would send Will to California, and Reedrek would come here and kill—” He raised his gaze to me. So we’d both had a surprise at the harbor. He’d expected Reedrek to meet him with good news. If I never had to speak of Reedrek again it would be a relief. I had no stomach to recount the ways he ’d injured me and mine. Nor could I stand to look at Hugo. Better for me to be outside with Gerard. I turned on my heel and left Hugo to his misery and to

Diana.

“You and I both know there is no vaccine. Not yet,” Gerard said in a low voice. We were standing on the veranda, out of earshot of the others. “Pure voodoo blood is the only cure at this point,” he continued, “and Melaphia was severely weakened by Iban. She cannot give anything more to help this new case.” “What of my blood?” I asked, since Reedrek had seemed to think it would work. “It’s almost pure, mixed with the blood of Lalee herself. It has been good enough for other things.” Gerard looked off into the distance. I could almost hear his computer of a brain calculating the odds and percentages. But then he shook his head. “I can’t say for certain, but I feel that at best it might slow the progression. It would be an unacceptable risk for you, however, weakening you at a time when we need you most. And even if you force-feed him, you could still be exposed to the virus. We could lose you both.” “I say let him die and be done with it,” a third voice said. “Save me the trouble of killing him myself.” Jack stepped from behind the large magnolia tree close to the house. “What are you doing here?” I asked, surprised that I hadn’t felt his presence or heard his rumbling beast of a car coming up the drive. He went few places without it. He looked at me briefly, as though he had something to say, then, straightening his back, he came up the stairs toward us. “I still live in this town, like it or not. I’ll go where I want.” “And lie as you will,” I said with a nod. Gerard stepped between us. “I mean it, William. I’m against you feeding Will, son or not.” A pained look crossed his features. “There is one other, safer possibility.” I waited, part of my mind on Will, part on Diana, and the rest on having it out with Jack. “There is Renee.” “Hush,” I cautioned automatically. “Don’t even mention her name here.” “No way in hell,” Jack growled at the same time. Facing us both, Gerard sighed. “I know, I know. As a scientist, however, I consider all possibilities. The decision is not mine to make.” “Have you even seen what happened to Mel?” Jack challenged, as though I’d been out of town for the last two days. “No way in any freakin’ possibility are you givin’ our darlin’ girl to be hurt. Not to help that asshole.” He glared at me. “No offense.” “None taken. And as the one who cared for Melaphia afterward,” I informed Jack, “I agree. Our darling girl is out of the question.”

Jack I relaxed. A little. At least I wouldn’t have to duke it out with William over Renee. Sparing Renee couldn’t have been an easy

decision for him to make, though, since it meant the almost certain death of his human son. “Good,” I said. “That boy of yours is bad news. Will tore Sullivan’s throat clean out when I tried to make him turn him a ’loose. I wouldn’t let him have one drop of Ren—of any of our precious blood.” “What’s your point, Jack? That he’s not worth saving even though he’s my own flesh and blood, my real son?” William asked. His meaning was clear: He no longer considered me to be his offspring. I’d be lying if I told you that didn’t hurt. “Not when he’s vicious enough to kill the trusted human of our closest ally, no. I’m just glad you haven’t completely lost your ability to tell good from evil.” “You question my perspective?” William sneered. “Would it interest you to know that I just turned over the leadership of the Bonaventures to Lucius as a gesture of good faith because of that very issue?” “Lucius? Are you crazy?” I knew by William’s bitter stare he was gauging my reaction to the news—putting his faith in Lucius instead of me was another slap in the face. “Not two days ago we all heard the bloodthirsty bastard say he thought we should start making vampires as fast as possible and train them to be assassins.” After suffering two intentional slights in a row, I wanted to hit William in the way I knew would hurt the most. I opened my mind to him, letting him feel the depth of my hatred for his son and my wish to let Will rot until he was nothing but a pile of putrid flesh. He lunged for my throat, and the memories of my human father ’s merciless beatings came flooding back to me in a wave of sorrow and rage. I grabbed his wrist and held it fast. “Do not raise your hand to me in anger again. Ever.” “Then stop providing reasons for me to do so,” he spat, and wrenched his arm out of my grasp. I didn’t really want to let a pissing match with William get out of hand. Not with things already going to hell in a handbasket. Besides, if I was ever going to tell him my side of things, now was the time. “William, I didn’t intentionally lie about Diana being alive. I mean, I was going to tell you.” “Yes, I recall you trying to tell me as she literally stepped from the boat. A little late, don’t you think?” “There’s more to it than being late.” “Olivia knew too, didn’t she? That’s what she was concealing when she appeared in holographic form at the meeting.” “Yes. It was her idea—keeping Diana a secret from you.” “Why, Jack,” William said sarcastically, “how unchivalrous of you to blame your lies on a woman.” “Would you shut up and listen for a minute?” William looked at me coldly. “Very well. You have one minute to explain yourself. And then I’m going back to my real family.” “All right, here’s the short of it. Olivia called me a few days ago and said she had to get something off her chest. It was killing her to lie to you when she said she didn’t find Diana alive. I about freaked out and told her she needed to come clean right away. She said neither of us should tell you because she was afraid you’d storm into Hugo’s clan headquarters to save Diana and get the both of us killed.” William frowned. “Get you killed?” “Yeah. Olivia knew you’d go, I’d follow, and nothing good would come of it. Whether I had your back or not, chances are Hugo—surrounded by his clan—would have killed you, me, and anyone else stupid enough to blindly follow you into hell itself. So, yeah, call me selfish, but I’d figured out the getting killed part.” William considered what I said. As the silence spun out, I realized with a sinking feeling what I ’d just revealed. I’d just handed William a weapon that could beat the hell out of me more effectively than the meaty fists of my natural father: Now William knew he

was still important to me, important enough to die for. Goddamn mouth. Always running when I was rarely thinking. I’d just shifted the balance of our seesaw relationship…again. And he just stood there staring, considering. “Go on,” he said. “Olivia was scared of what might happen to the Bonaventures, being such a new organization and all, if something happened to the both of us. I mean, think about it. She just lost Alger. She couldn’t bear to lose you, too.” “So you conspired to keep Diana’s existence a secret.” “I was going to tell you the day of the voodoo lesson, I swear. But when I saw you and Eleanor that day and how happy you were together, I just didn’t have the heart. I was still going to tell you, mind. I was just…waiting for the right time.” William looked at his shoes. “I suppose I can see your dilemma. I know you’re fond of Eleanor.” Eleanor—good way to get past the “Gee whiz Dad, I’d die for you” speech. “Listen, about her—you’ve got to talk to her. I sneaked off without her this evening after I told her I’d bring her over here.” “You are forever amazing me, and not in particularly good ways. Why in hell would you bring her here?” he demanded. “She said she was coming to get some answers from you. She’s in a bad position, William.” I didn’t tell him in so many words, but all the fears I’d had for Eleanor when I found out Diana was undead were coming true in spades. The worst part was, from what she’d told me before sunrise as we turned in, William wasn ’t helping. I knew he was distracted and all, but he needed to think about things from her perspective. Here she was a fledgling, dependent on her sire for survival, and William was acting like having Diana in town made his relationship with Eleanor yesterday’s news. And then there was the trifling matter of Eleanor trading her soul for an eternity with William, an eternity that amounted to just a matter of days. Not to mention that she loved him. Man, was I glad I wasn’t a chick. “Don’t you think I know that?” William said. “But I’ve found my son after five hundred years and I may have only a few more hours with him. Eleanor and her concerns will have to wait.” “I don’t mean to tell you how to handle your woman, but—” “Then don’t.” I sighed. There was nothing I could do to help Eleanor now. Besides, we all might wind up rotting from the plague in a few days or even a few hours. Speaking of…“So is Iban really better? Does he know about Sullivan?” “Yes. He will almost certainly recover,” William said. “And I told him about the attack.” “I don’t know Iban well. He seems like a pretty gentle guy for a vampire, but when he gets his strength back—” “If Will is still alive, Iban will do his damnedest to rip him apart,” William supplied. I didn’t mention that I too had sworn to kill Will to avenge Sullivan. I ’d given Connie my word, and I knew her well enough to know she’d hold me to it. Right now, though, it looked like the plague was going to keep the blood of William ’s son off both my hands and Iban’s. William looked away into the distance. “You may as well know the rest. We know who is behind the virus.” “So Gerard was right. It is germ warfare. Who?” “Hugo sent Will to California to spread the virus, then told him to meet up here.”

I let this digest a minute. “That’s why he got here before the others. He was hanging out with Werm days before the boat came with Hugo and Diana. How did he do it?” “I don’t know. Hugo says Will was used, that he didn’t know he was spreading a plague.” “And you believe him?” I thought about Will’s face rotting off upstairs and was glad his scheme had backfired on him. “I choose to believe in my son.” I did my best to ignore that kick in the pants. “That’s kinda foolish, given the evidence.” “What are you talking about?” “When Will first came to my shop, he seemed to be avoiding getting close to Sullivan. But Sullivan said he thought he knew Will from somewhere. The second time Will came to the shop—the night you dropped him off—he didn’t expect Sullivan to be there, but he was. They were talking friendly enough, but then Sullivan got this look of recognition on his face and squared up for a fight. That’s when Will was on him like a duck on a junebug.” “So you’re saying—” “Sullivan was about to figure out who brought the plague to them. I figure he ’d seen Will hanging around the California colony. As big as L.A. is, a lone vamp coming through town wouldn’t have attracted much attention. As long as he stayed friendly-like.” I thought about how easily Will had charmed Renee and my theory made even more sense. “Will couldn’t let you and me find out he’d been there because he knew we’d put two and two together.” “So you think he killed Sullivan to silence him? But what about Iban? He would have recognized Will as well.” “Yeah, but as far as we know, Iban and Will haven’t met here in Savannah yet. And far as Will knows, nobody but Sullivan was here from California. So he figured he’d be in the clear if he took out Sullivan. William, that means Will did know what he was doing when he took the virus to California.” William looked sick and sad. “Surely Will wouldn’t have put himself at risk if he knew the danger. Hugo sent him to California without telling him he could catch the virus himself. That way, Hugo could be rid of Will and have Diana ’s exclusive affections.” At my questioning look, William said, “There’s no love lost between Hugo and Will.” “But getting rid of Will can’t be Hugo’s only motive. There are easier ways to kill him and make it look like some vampire hunter got him or something.” “You’re right. I’m sure it wasn’t just about Will. Taking out our largest and most successful colony was probably meant as a warning to all the Bonaventures. But how would Will have carried the virus to California while expecting to remain free of the plague himself?” “Maybe you should ask him.” William nodded. “Maybe I should.” With that, my sire went back into his plantation house and I sat down in one of the rocking chairs to wait for Eleanor and try to talk her into turning right around and going back to town. Which I knew she wouldn’t do. At least William had listened to me. I wasn’t sure, but I thought he might trust me again. Time would tell. If any of us had any time left.

Sixteen

William “If you save Will—” Diana slowly sank to her knees. “I’ll do anything you ask.” She gazed at me, a king’s ransom of promises in her eyes. “Anything.” “Will you leave Hugo and bind yourself to me forever?” I’d already made up my mind to allow Will to feed on my blood, even before Diana offered herself and her future. The trick would be doing it without alerting Hugo and Diana to the true source of the cure—Melaphia and Renee. If my blood couldn’t cure Will, I might be too weak to challenge Hugo for Diana or for Savannah itself when the time came. And Diana’s promises would be meaningless. Diana took my hand and kissed it as I’d seen her do to swear fealty to the Tudor king Henry five centuries before. The one the moderns only remember because of his wives. “He’ll fight for me,” she whispered, lowering her gaze to the floor in submission. I placed my hand on her head, fingers threading through her golden hair. A tremor ran through me at the touch. “One battle at a time. I’ll do my best for Will,” I said, claiming her, then clasped her arm and pulled her to her feet. “Now leave me with him.” A shadow of distrust flickered in her eyes and she hesitated. Then, remembering her promise, she nodded and, with one last tender glance in Will’s direction, left the room. I removed my jacket and unbuttoned my shirt. Will appeared to be in better condition than Iban had been when he ’d fed on Melaphia. Gerard had explained that her injuries were due to the advanced progression of Iban’s illness. His face and throat had rotted so far as to prevent him from swallowing normally. His fangs, however, had been sharp and elongated, hard bone and ivory enamel, and those fangs had torn Melaphia’s arms in his feeding frenzy. I was stronger than Will. I could force-feed him. I placed my palm on his forehead. Odd to feel the very humanlike warmth of his skin. The by-product of the busy virus. “Will?” His eyelids fluttered, then slowly opened. His eyeballs had gone pink with broken blood vessels. He stared up at me with all the recognition of a blind man. “I’m going to save you,” I said. He seemed to be fighting to hold his attention on me. “But first you must tell me about the virus.” A look of panic crossed his features as though he feared he might not live long enough to say. His dry lips moved, cracking with the effort. “Stupid bastard,” he mumbled, as blood and pus oozed from the edges of his mouth. “Immune—my arse—” He groaned and closed his eyes. “Hurts—” So Jack had been right: Will had known what he was doing. “How did you infect the California colony?” I had to know how the

virus had been spread. “In the blood—forced the swans—” “Who sent you and what were you promised in return?” A long silence followed and I thought he’d drifted back into unconsciousness. I shook his shoulder to keep him focused. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter as he answered, “Reedrek…and my father…Hugo pr-promised Mother and I—” He sighed, then mustered his strength. “—would be…free.” The effort of speaking took its toll. One side of his face split and liquid spilled forth. I could see his naked jawbone underneath the ooze. I covered the wound with my hand and dragged his jaw open. I used my left fang to open the artery in my right wrist. As drops of bastardized blood dropped from the wound onto his tongue, Will’s avaricious mouth seemed to wake up. His fangs extended as he swallowed. A moment later, he choked, coughing up my blood mixed with rotten flesh and mucus. Then his back rose from the bed, and his jaws flexed, as he sought to sink fangs into my torn skin. He could taste the blood he needed but couldn’t drink. I pushed him down and held him as his vampiric senses fought for sustenance. But he lacked the strength required to reach his goal. He would die if I didn’t do something and I would never know if he might have been redeemed. Saved from Hugo’s torture and abuse. I released my hold on him and let him bite. I clenched my own jaw at the pain. He’d nearly penetrated the bones beneath the skin. I used my free hand to push him back down onto the bed, allowing him to pull my arm with him. In those few seconds, the dangerous deed of contamination had been accomplished, for better or worse. We were locked in a life-and-death struggle from this moment on. My blood ran down Will’s rotting chin and neck: not a pretty sight. I steeled myself with the thought that Melaphia had gone through much worse. I allowed my mind to drift away, toward the mansion. I couldn’t communicate with Melaphia as I could Jack, but in a prayerlike moment, I asked her forgiveness. She was sworn to me and me alone. It hadn’t been fair to order her to help Iban. But then, what in life was fair? Eleanor’s image blossomed in my thoughts. Certainly I hadn’t been fair to Eleanor. Even though I’d known better, known that happiness would ever elude me, in a weak moment, I set out to try again. Now I’d involved her in my overlong, dysfunctional existence without even offering her the ease of my company. Doctor Phillip would not have approved. Christ—I— Will moaned and adjusted his bite. I winced in pain, then experienced a familiar touch in my mind. Eleanor. She must have perceived my thoughts. I opened the part of me I’d blocked from her since Diana’s arrival and received a shock. The distance between us—she at the mansion on Houghton Square and I at the plantation —had collapsed. I felt her presence before she stalked through the broken front door. Jack’s mind barged through my shock. I told you you needed to talk to her. Jack, keep her away from me. Eleanor, go home. No. I heard her voice then, speaking to Diana. “Where is he?” Eleanor, don’t be a fool— She was met by silence.

I had no true inhuman connection to Diana so I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. But I had a good idea of what she’d do if she thought an unfamiliar fledgling meant to interrupt my ministering to Will. “I said, Where is he?” Eleanor repeated. I order you to leave this place. I felt her gasp in pain as I applied pressure to her mind. She belonged to me, after all. “No, don’t make me go,” she cried aloud. “Get away from that door,” I heard Diana say. Then Jack: “Come on, El. He’s kinda busy just now—” “Get away from me!” The door handle rattled, then I heard a guttural scream and the sounds of a struggle followed by a crash— as if something had been thrown across the room. Will began to choke again and when he released my arm this time I moved away from the bed. In a steadier voice he moaned, “Mother.” I snatched up the shirt I’d discarded and held the material against my wrist to staunch the bleeding before I crossed the room to yank open the door. The sight that greeted me stopped me in the doorway. Eleanor seemed to have been thrown upward to the ceiling; she floated there near the gas chandelier, pinned in place by some invisible force. The ornate stake in her hand had penetrated the lath and plaster overhead. She stared down at me with wild eyes. Jack had climbed onto the dining room table and was tugging on her free arm. Hugo looked on with some amusement. Diana, as unflappable as a guard at Buckingham Palace, stood next to me at the door of our son’s sickroom. “Let her down,” I ordered Diana. “If you make her go away,” Diana said. “She tried to kill me.” I turned to her. “Have you forgotten your promise so soon?” With a narrowing of her gaze, she complied. Eleanor, uttering a small sound of surprise, fell into Jack ’s arms. As he stepped down off the table, he made to set Eleanor on her feet. “Take her home,” I said. “No!” Eleanor squirmed away from him and ran to me, dividing her attention between me and Diana. She stopped short, suddenly noticing my state of undress and the blood oozing from my arm. “What’s going on?” I grasped the hand holding the stake—the one we’d used often in our blood games—and twisted the wood from her fingers. Then I turned her in the direction of the front door. “Nothing to concern yourself about. You should not be here.” At some point I would have to lecture her on the proper way to kill another vampire. Walking up to them with a stake just wouldn’t do. “Please…let me stay.” She looked in Diana’s direction, seemingly mesmerized. “I promise, I won’t be any trouble.” You are in danger here, I warned her. Then it was too late. Diana asked, “Aren’t you going to introduce us? I should at least know the one who’s marked my heart for death.” Holy crap, Jack whispered in my mind, echoing my feelings exactly. Unarmed now, Eleanor moved inside the circle of my arm and slipped her own arm about my waist. I could feel her trembling. As a human she’d had no fear in her world, but here she sensed she’d thrown herself into deeper water. And since her feelings were accurate I couldn’t offer much comfort. Diana approached us from one side, Jack from the other. If nothing else, I knew I

could depend on Jack to get Eleanor out of there if the need arose—whether she wanted to go or not. Then I would deal with Diana. “Eleanor, this is Diana,” I said, keeping it brief. Diana extended her hand and Eleanor accepted it. “Hello,” she said, sounding breathless. Diana smiled. “You must be Cuy’s…” The fact that she’d used my boyhood nickname and did not complete the sentence spoke volumes…to me. “Cuy?” Eleanor asked. Diana’s laughter was closer to menace than amusement. “All right, William, then.” She glanced at me, still holding Eleanor’s hand. “She’s mine,” I said. “I can see that,” Diana answered with a tight smile. Suddenly Eleanor gasped, stiffening next to me. She winced in pain and jerked her hand away from Diana’s. That bitch. “She hurt me!” “Time to go,” I announced. “Jack?” “Wait,” Eleanor said as her gaze moved over my bare chest. “When will you be home?” What did it matter what I promised at this point? I’d say whatever it took to get her out of harm’s—out of Diana’s—way. “Soon.” “Promise?” My conscience twisted in misery. I was most assuredly contaminated with the plague now. Going home wasn ’t an acceptable risk. “Yes, I promise. Now go with Jack.”

Jack I thought for a minute I was going to have to drag Eleanor away, but her pride kicked in and she finally lifted her chin and linked her arm through mine. Thank goodness. I didn’t much relish a hair-pulling vampiress catfight right now. Any other time it might be hot, but not with a killer rotting virus eating away at us. I could tell by the vampire bite on William’s arm he’d gone through with his plan to feed Will. That was just great. Now his offspring —that would be me and Eleanor and Werm—were even more at risk. Once your sire is dead, you’re pretty much on your own. We needed to get out of there, pronto. We were about to make a clean getaway when I heard Diana behind us say, “Hugo, go with them.” Hugo’s gaze came around like the Terminator on steroids. His face looked like he ’d already danced a few with Mike Tyson (although he still had both ears). I wondered if William had anything to do with his injuries. “So you can be alone with him? I think not,” Hugo said. “Look at his arm—now he’s contaminated.” Eleanor gasped but I seemed to be the only other one in the room paying attention. “My son suffers,” Diana said. “If you don’t want to suffer along with him, I suggest you get out of my sight. This pox is your fault.”

Hugo’s busted-up sneer faltered. He was afraid of his woman, probably because female vampires draw power off their men. I reckoned after Mr. and Mrs. Bloodsucker had been together a few hundred years, it was the gal who wore the pants in the batcave. We have an old saying in the South: If Mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy. This Diana chick was not a happy vamper. “I could do with a good hunt,” he finally said, like blowing the joint was his idea. “The lot of you may be determined to die but I at least wish to live.” Get him out of here, William whispered into my thoughts. Give my blood time to work on Will before Hugo puts two and two together and comes up with voodoo. Look, I told you before I’m not a babysitter. Especially not a babysitter to assholes like Will and Hugo. Besides, I was no good at it. Look what happened to Sullivan on my watch. Do it, Jack. What-ever. If El and I turn up dead before morning, maybe you’ll be happy then. I tightened my grip on Eleanor’s arm, but she balked like a mule now that Hugo had agreed to go along. I didn’t blame her for not wanting to leave Diana and William alone. I leaned over and whispered to her, “They’re not going to get romantic with that boy of hers rotting right under their noses. You have nothing to worry about. ” I wasn’t at all sure this was true, but I can sound convincing when I have to. “Jack?” William tossed me El’s stake. “If Hugo gives you any trouble, use it.” Hugo stared at William, pure hatred simmering in his eyes. But Diana was having none of it. “Go,” she told him again. I could feel William’s silent push toward the door. I dragged up the leg of my jeans and slid the stake into my boot. Eleanor nodded and we started walking. Actually, hunting wasn’t a bad idea as long as we weren’t the ones on the menu, but it meant I had to make sure Hugo and, for that matter, Eleanor didn’t get out of hand. “Follow me,” I said, and led them to the convertible. It’d be a nice cozy ride into town. On the drive to the tunnels I laid down the no-killing law. I expected Hugo to argue, but he was all brooding and shit, probably about leaving Diana alone with William. Eleanor wasn’t much better. Except for Carrie Underwood’s “Jesus, Take the Wheel” playing on the radio, it was a pretty quiet trip back to town. “We’ll go to the tunnels so our hunting will be hidden from the police or anybody who might decide to call ’em.” It would also be easier to keep an eye on Hugo in an enclosed place. None of that messy chasing -the-vampire-across-Oglethorpe-Square stuff. Only problem was, I had a feeling the street people would be steering clear of sleeping in the tunnels after William ’s little killing spree the other night. I figured I had to stock the lake, so to say. I got out my cell phone and dialed 411. After they connected me with the city water department, I listened to the voicemail options and pressed the button for emergency repairs. “Hello? I want to report a water main break.”

Eleanor’s place—or more accurately the basement door of her new place—was as good as any to enter the tunnels. William had ordered some discreet workers to install a metal door and dig a fresh opening to the tunnels only a couple of days before. I’d chosen to steer as clear of the Houghton Square mansion as I could so Hugo wouldn ’t be able to pick up any vibes that might allow him to find his way there on his own. I wanted him as far away from Mel and Renee as possible. “Why must we hunt in the sewers like a pack of rats?” Hugo complained.

“Do you foreigners even understand the term ‘low profile’? Anyway, these are not sewers. If you want to see sewers I’ll take you down to the waste treatment plant and throw you in.” The thought made me smile for the first time tonight. Hugo scowled and started to sniff the air like the hound he was. Then he got an odd look on his face as if he ’d just smelled or heard something real interesting. Even busted up, his nose and ears must have been better than mine because I didn ’t pick up a thing. “I think I shall go in this direction,” he said. “I’ll meet you back here later.” “Oh no you don’t. We’re staying together. I don’t want to have to hide any bodies tomorrow. I hear the humans in that direction.” The sound of digging echoed in the distance. With an odd look, Hugo shrugged and went where I told him. I could feel it grating on him that he had to take orders from me, William’s flunky, but I guess he hadn’t lived more than—well, hell, a long damned time and not learned how to pick his battles. I already knew that armed with a stake or not, I could never turn my back on him if I wanted to survive another day myself. As for Eleanor, after she heard that William was contaminated the fight seemed to have gone out of her. She followed along without a word. We approached a bend in the tunnels and slowed; the digging was louder and we heard human voices. “It’s stopped. I don’t hear it anymore,” said one. Another said, “Yeah, was that spooky or what? Did you ever figure out where it was coming from?” “No. But if I hear that creepy whisper again, I am out of here like a bat out of hell.” The digging continued. “Why are we here anyway? There’s no main break. It musta been a false alarm. No water, no sound of water—” Walking soundlessly as only vampires can, we caught them unawares. Before the men could as much as gasp, we’d taken them, there being handily one for each of us. I felt sorry for feeding on a bunch of blue collar guys like me, but what ’s a vampire with dinner guests to do? I grabbed one of the guys by the throat and his hard hat clattered to the ground, making a racket. The other two had time to cry out before they were bitten, but nobody could hear them. Nobody alive, anyway. I finished first and released my prey to make sure the others followed my instructions. Eleanor finished a few seconds after me, but Hugo just had to show off. I tapped him on the shoulder, but he wouldn’t let go of the short, dark-haired guy he’d clamped on to. I reached for the victim’s tool belt and removed a big, honking pair of pliers. “Let him go now if you don’t want me to pull out your fangs where you stand, just like we used to do in the bad old days—no painkillers, no laughing gas, no nothing.” Hugo let the guy slide to the ground and I checked his pulse. He was still alive. Tomorrow he’d think they’d been overcome by a gas leak or something. Hugo was a different story. He looked like he wanted to kill me. So what else was new? “I’m going back to my house,” Eleanor announced. “I need to be alone.” I touched her on the arm, but she shrugged away. “Are you going to be all right?” I asked. “No,” she said in a small voice. “How could I be?” Hugo leered at her. “You need the protection of a real man. A real vampire.” Eleanor returned his gaze. She was not the type to shrink from a man’s lechery; that was her job, after all. She looked as if she wanted to ask him something, then glanced at me and seemed to think better of it. “I’m going home,” she said, and walked away.

“Now there is as fine an ass as a man will see anywhere,” Hugo remarked, watching Eleanor leave. “Shut the fuck up,” I said, even though he was right. “Let’s get out of here.” But Hugo didn’t move; he paused and listened. I thought I heard a scrabbling noise and looked toward it, then back at Hugo. He smiled broadly. “I wish to rest here for a little,” he said. “I often find myself a bit faint when I’ve fed off a human who is particularly…robust.” What kind of pussy talk was that? Faint? I’d never heard of such a thing. “You’re fine. March.” “You insolent lackey,” he said. “How dare you order me about like a common servant?” He reached into his pocket and before you could say Draw, I had Eleanor’s stake in my hand. Pointy end out, just in case. But he fluttered a handkerchief out, then dabbed it at his forehead just like he was going to swoon right then and there. He closed his eyes and leaned against the tunnel wall. The guy was stalling, but why? What was I missing? I thought back to what the workmen were saying when we came upon them. I’d been concentrating so hard on trying to sneak up on ’em, I hadn’t paid much attention to their conversation. What had they said? They’d been hearing some creepy whispers that had stopped right before we came along. I looked at Hugo, who mouthed something. “Can it, your lordship,” I said. “We’ve fed and we’re leaving.” I grabbed him by the arm and hauled him back toward Eleanor’s house, where my car was parked. He protested some, but not much, and I knew why. He’d gotten what he needed. He knew where Reedrek was. I realized too late that we were near the blood bank, right next to where the old demon was entombed. In my carelessness, I had taken Hugo right to him. Reedrek had undoubtedly heard the workmen and called out to them, probably hoping he could enthrall ’em into jackhammering him out of his cornerstone. Then Hugo had happened along and it was old home week —only Grandpa had used his psychic skill to block his thoughts from me. “What did he tell you?” “Who?” I tapped his shoulder with the stake. “Don’t make me kick your ass.” Hugo cackled. “You could try.” I slammed him up against the nearest tunnel wall so hard that chunks of earth rained down from all sides. Then I pressed the stake into the center of his chest over his unbeating black heart. “Let’s start over,” I said. “What did he tell you?” Hugo laughed again. “He wanted out. I told him to rot. Obviously it was a brief conversation.” I went for his throat. He knocked the stake from my hand and kneed me in the midsection. When I hunched over he brought his fist down across my neck. I barely had time to catch my breath before he grabbed me by the collar and hauled me to my feet. “Jack, my friend, let us not fight. It is not me you should be worried about, but yourself.” “What do you mean?” I wrenched myself out of his grasp. “At this very moment your sire is feeding his mortal son the blood from his veins. Little Will is now the blood of his blood in every way, as a mortal and as a vampire. They’ll both rot and die. Where, my boy, does that leave you?” This Hugo guy might use a hanky like a girl, but he had a way of cutting you right to the bone. He was right. I was worried about William. Will or no Will, when he found out I’d taken Hugo straight to Reedrek, old Jackie would be under the doghouse.

Again. Crap. I picked up the stake and followed Hugo down the tunnel. When we came to Eleanor’s basement, he pushed through the metal door. Hugo continued up the concrete steps and to the car with only a passing glance at Eleanor, who huddled in the southeast corner of the basement. I paused, curious as to what she was about. She was swaying and making a noise somewhere between a chant and a sob. Light from a candle she’d placed in a crystal bowl flickered on the floor in front of her. She’d pulled a colorful silk robe across her shaking shoulders. I wanted to go to her, but I knew I’d be an intruder on her thoughts and prayers. The night of the voodoo lesson Melaphia had given Eleanor to a loa she called the tragic mistress, the goddess of both love and sorrow. Mel had hit the nail on the head with that one. Poor Eleanor. I might not exactly be Mr. Sensitivity, but I thought I could have handled the triangle with Diana and El a little better than William had. Strong, feisty, confident Eleanor had been shoved from her place at William’s side and reduced to emotions for leftovers—fear, betrayal, and heartbreak. She thrummed like a tuning fork with pain so intense I could feel it from where I stood on the steps. Her feeling of abandonment struck a chord in my own chest. Not only was William’s wife—back in his life after five hundred years—a real threat to Eleanor’s place in his world, but Will the prodigal son threatened to replace me as well. If any of them survived the night. A gust of cold wind made its way through the cracks in the unfinished subfloor above Eleanor ’s head; she shivered and pulled the edges of the thin robe tighter around her slender frame. I sighed, walked up the steps into the blue-black night, and considered staking myself to save William the trouble of killing me. I was running out of ways to fuck up.

William Diana faced me from the darkened corner of our son’s sickroom. “Who is she?” Who indeed? The need to explain Eleanor fought with my damaged pride. Why should I explain anything to my faithless wife? “She’s my fledgling, and my lover.” There, I’d said it. I watched Diana closely for a reaction. She looked down for a moment, most probably choosing her words. “Not your mate, then? Even so, she would kill for you. She loves you.” “Yes. I daresay she does.” I conjured up the vision of Eleanor facing Diana with the stake in her hand. “As for the killing…she chose to be with me and I suppose intends to protect her investment.” Better to speak of ownership than of love. “And you chose her as well. Yet not as your mate…” Yes. I had done that. Eleanor was the only woman in several lifetimes who’d convinced me I was not better off alone. I wiped my bloody arm and tossed my shirt away. “Yes. I chose her. In many ways we are well suited. She ’s bound to me for the foreseeable future.” Diana drew herself up and walked to the opposite side of Will’s bed to fuss with the covers. “So you leave me to compete for your attention.” She looked toward me, her eyes sparkling with defiance and tears. “I’m not sure what you mean. You have my complete attention at this moment and until they return. Until Hugo returns. And—” I rested a hand on Will’s clammy forehead. “—we have a son between us.” I remembered Jack calling Will a monster. I myself had seen Will in action, felt his challenge, but I had not seen him wantonly kill. “What kind of being is Will?” I’d almost said man, as any mortal father might have. But our kind had overlong years either to

mature in mind and deed or forever stay frozen in time and in temperament. I remembered Will as a headstrong young boy, but that boy had never been vengeful or disrespectful. “Is he a monster like Reedrek?” “No! Never,” she answered with venom, but she couldn ’t hold on to her fury. It collapsed as one tear fell. “You must understand—before I could protect him, Hugo—” At the sound of the name, Will feebly thrashed one arm as though he might fight off a ghost. “As you are well aware, we are bound to our sires for our apprenticeship. Since Hugo made Will and, technically, me as well although Reedrek had bled me, neither of us could challenge his behavior in any way. Nor could we kill him.” Will began to cough, spitting up mucus. Diana put an arm behind his back and lifted him into a sitting position. That’s when I saw the web of scars marring his bare back. “Hugo did this?” The scars had been cut into his skin by a whip; they had to have occurred before Will had been made. I felt a rush of hate. I should have killed Hugo the first moment I’d set eyes on him. “Why?” “He said he had to teach Will to obey…before he would offer immortality. So that he would understand his place in our —” Diana’s gaze slid away. “—our new family.” She looked at me again. “He said he would kill Will if I interfered.” “And this?” I touched the livid scar in the shape of a cross on Will’s upper chest. “This surely occurred after he was made.” “Yes. The first time Will ran away, he was punished.” She pulled the sheet up to cover the evidence of Hugo’s cruelty. I took Diana’s arm and steered her from the room. She continued the story. “When Will’s apprenticeship ended, he ran away. He left us and settled in Moscow.” So Olivia’s spy had been close to the mark. They’d been in Russia or Eastern Europe. “He wrote me hundreds of letters, many of them begging me to come to the city where we could get lost in the crowds and we might live our own lives. But by that time I’d—” “Fallen in love?” I finished, and dropped my hand away from her arm. She had obviously chosen to stay with Hugo. “No. By that time I’d gained power. I was a better match for his lordship. As you witnessed earlier, I can rival his violence. You needn’t worry: I punished Hugo for touching my son.” She was right—she didn’t need to convince me of her ferocity. I’d seen it firsthand. She might not be able to kill her sire, but she could certainly make him wish for death. “Why did you never come back to England?” She looked surprised by the question and answered with one of her own. “What was left in England but horrible memories?” She seemed to understand what I wanted. “By the time Reedrek came to us again, bringing news of your successes, I had Will. He returned to our home in the country when Napoleon burned Moscow in the 1812 wars.” In 1812, almost three hundred years after our making, I’d been in Savannah, setting up my New World home. Defying my own sire. Reedrek no doubt had fed Diana those lies to keep us apart forever. “Did you ever wonder why Reedrek chose us?” I asked. “Why he took such pleasure in destroying every shred of love and connection between you and me…and Will?” Diana shrugged philosophically. “He told me once that he’d given us a great gift, and it was up to us to use it well.” “His idea of use and mine have clashed from the beginning,” I answered. “I’ve done my best to be his most ill-favored son.”

Diana smiled and cupped my cheek with her hand. “I would have expected no less from you,” she breathed. Suddenly the air between us felt charged with sexual power. But instead of touching her with my hands, I reached for her with my mind, letting her feel the coiled need inside me and the emptiness I ’d carried since we were ripped apart. In life and in undeath, I’ve wanted you, wished for you, missed you. When my soul took its leave, part of it went in search of you. Her lips were moist and soft as she pressed them to mine. A shiver of recognition ran through me, and I shut my eyes on the present and searched for the past. “My heart, we must be careful,” I whispered into a mortal kiss. “Even though it’s full light, we might wake the babe.” Diana pressed her overfull bodice against my chest in a wanton display of her new bounty. “He should be used to our rocking by this time. If it were not so, he wouldn’t have been made.” “But I—” “Shhh—” She unfastened the front of her blouse and ran her teasing hand over her own nipples. Just a touch caused them to pucker and weep milk. She moaned in what sounded like pain. “I swear I feel like I might burst.” The sight nearly caused me to moan as well; I was in danger of bursting the laces of my breeches. I couldn’t take my gaze away from her. “Won’t you help a lady in distress?” She sighed and tugged my head forward. “I’m sure Will won’t miss a taste, or two…” Her wantoness took my breath away. She wanted me to suckle on her like our babe. “I—” I wanted that too, I realized, and set about making us both happy. She stiffened in my arms as I drew a taste onto my tongue. “Easy, love. I’m so tender—ahh—” Belying her words, she pulled me closer as though only I could scratch the itch she endured. Her nipples stiffened further against my lips and I fed from one to the other. The sweetness of her mother’s milk filling my senses. She struggled to pull up her skirts. “Please, Cuy, now—” I knew what she wanted, what we both wanted, and I set about freeing myself from my breeches. Then I pumped into her with such ferocity that Will indeed began to cry at the disturbance. Ah, yes, dinner had to wait until the sweets had been devoured. Stepping from the past into the present, I answered Diana’s mouth with my own, stroking her tongue with mine, finding fangs instead of softness. The contrast shook me to the core. She would never again be the loving innocent I ’d married. And I would never have what I wanted the most— “Well, now isn’t this cozy.” Hugo’s voice vibrated through the erotic air around us. Somehow he had sneaked up on us; I hadn’t heard Jack’s car, or any vehicle for that matter. Of course, my ears were roaring with the hot blood of my libido; I ’d intentionally shut out the world. I pulled back only far enough to capture Diana’s gaze. I wanted to see her reaction before I dealt with her lover. Her eyes were soft with surrender, but defiant. In that moment, she truly wanted me and no other and didn’t mind broadcasting the fact. “Go away,” I said, without releasing my wife. “No,” he answered. Reluctantly I pulled away from Diana, turning my back to her so I could face the violence of her sire and mate.

“You strain my thin supply of civility,” I informed him. “And you try my patience,” he answered, shifting his attention from me to Diana as though he spoke to her and not me. She stood next to me. “By the way, how is Will?” he asked. The question scrambled my anger and awoke suspicion. What was Hugo up to? “He’s better,” Diana said. “But not cured. No thanks to you.” “Ah, so your hero has not saved him.” “At least I’m doing something,” I said. “Yes, well, why don’t you give him the cure?” Diana looked as if she was losing patience herself. “What are you talking about? There is no cure—” My reaction was instantaneous. I crossed the distance between Hugo and myself in a trice. Face-to-face, I took my next breath from air he exhaled. I shoved him up against the newel post of the porch. “There is no cure,” I ground out. Hugo looked amused. “That’s not what our sire, Reedrek, told me.” “Tell me what you’re talking about, right now,” Diana ordered. Then there was silence. They were communicating as sire and offspring, leaving me out of the conversation. Diana’s next words were for me. “What is the voodoo blood?” So, he truly had spoken to Reedrek—but how had he found him? I never should have allowed Hugo out of my sight but I ’d been so preoccupied with Will and Diana…“It runs in my veins. It helps but isn’t a cure,” I lied. “Why don’t you ask your hero why he won’t use the blood to save your son?” Hugo sneered. “Cuy?” Diana said, sounding confused. “I can feel that Hugo is telling the truth about this. Why didn’t you tell me?” “There is no cure,” I repeated, practically hissing the words into Hugo’s face. He smiled. “Liar.” Then he twisted away from me. “You also lied about killing Reedrek.” Diana remained silent as Hugo went to her and rested an arm about her shoulders. It was a direct challenge to every connection I’d been building with Diana. Reedrek had armed him with the means to destroy us again, not to mention my New World family. But no matter who was doomed, I could not give away the secret of Melaphia and Renee. “Why do you doubt me? I’ve risked my life to save Will. We are working on a cure. Gerard is—” “Tell us about Renee,” Hugo said.

Seventeen

Jack I felt like a coward letting a sullen and silent Hugo out at the plantation and taking off like a scalded dog. I should have gone into the house, faced William, and owned up to what I ’d done. Taking Hugo near enough to Reedrek ’s tomb that he could communicate with his sire was one of the more boneheaded moves I’d made lately. Well, that and accidentally raising a zombie. And getting tangled up with a Mayan goddess whose touch nearly electrocuted my sorry bloodsucking ass. I guess it was my week for boneheaded moves. William would know about my little mistake soon enough. I wracked my brain trying to think of what Reedrek could tell Hugo that would hurt us most. The voodoo blood, of course. My head throbbed with the implications while I headed for the house on Isle of Hope to check on Iban and Lucius. I wanted to see for myself if Iban continued to get well and to assess his state of mind, and I needed to check up on Lucius to see what kind of mischief he might be setting in motion. I still thought Lucius was the kind of guy who’d let a little whiff of power go to his head. I was almost to the driveway of William’s place on the Isle when I saw one of his fleet of vehicles pulling out and coming toward me. Rennie and I maintain William’s wheels, and I know them all like the back of my fangs. I screeched to a halt in the middle of the road, blocking them. Iban got out of the passenger seat of the Lexus and came toward me. “Is he still alive?” he asked, his dark eyes blazing. “Who?” I hopped out from behind the wheel and went to face him. “You know damn well who. The murderer.” “He’s still undead as far as I know,” I said. “Not for long. William led me to believe that Will was about to die, making my ripping his throat out an empty gesture. Then I realized that if I could be cured by the voodoo blood, Will could as well.” “You can’t possibly imagine we’d let Will feed off Melaphia in her condition!” Lucius had gotten out of the driver’s seat by then and came to stand between us. “What about her daughter?” he said accusingly. “Don’t even go there. Renee is off-limits. If Hugo ever got ahold of our baby girl, she’d wind up just like the goose that laid the golden egg.” “So you say,” Iban said coldly. “However, I’m skeptical that William wouldn’t use anything or anyone at his disposal to save his only son. No matter. I’m going to end Will’s suffering myself and avenge Sullivan in the process.” He took a step back toward the vehicle.

“Wait,” I said, and Iban stopped and turned back to me. “You’re forgetting something.” “What?” he asked impatiently. “Sullivan’s body is lying in William’s vault. Don’t you think the least we could do is give him a decent send-off?” “I intend to take him back to California.” “Without Tobey’s rig, it’s going to be difficult enough to get yourself back to California in one piece, let alone an undocumented dead mortal body. Besides, there’s nobody to invite to the funeral.” There was my famous tact in action again. Iban looked like I’d punched him in the gut, but obviously saw the truth in what I said. “What do you propose, then?” “I propose we bury him in the family cemetery at the plantation.” I was flying by the seat of my pants now, but I tried to sound like I’d thought everything through. “I was just on my way out here to talk this over with you. If you give me until tomorrow night, I can have all the arrangements made. You won’t have to worry about a thing. Just show up at the plantation an hour after sunset tomorrow.” Iban seemed weary and undecided. Lucius put an arm around his shoulder. “Jack is right, my friend,” he said, giving me a meaningful look. “You need some rest. There’s plenty of time for vengeance. Young Will has an eternity to rot in hell after he finishes rotting on this plane of existence. If you see your friend buried in a suitable grave with a service to honor his memory, you’ll have some closure and the knowledge that you did right by him.” I silently thanked Lucius, an unlikely ally, for his help. He could be downright diplomatic when he wanted to be. Maybe he was using his powers of enthrallment on Iban like he’d tried to use them on me. If so, I was grateful this time. Lucius’s sentiment seemed to buoy Iban’s spirits, if only a little. “All right, Jack. We’ll go back to the house to wait for your call.” Man, that was close. As soon as I saw Lucius turn the Lexus around, I headed the ’Vette into town. William, I called out to him. Nothing, like nobody was home. Maybe he’d finally stopped communicating with me altogether. William! What? he finally answered. Make it quick. Iban and Lucius were headed there to kill Will. I got them to go back to the Isle of Hope house by telling them I was arranging a funeral there at the plantation for Sullivan. I bought you some time. My advice is to kill Hugo and get it over with, then move Will and Diana into your vault and lock them in. Meet the rest of us tomorrow evening at the plantation for the funeral and see if you can get Iban to calm down. I’m going to pick up Sullivan’s body and arrange for a coffin and a backhoe. I understand, he replied. Make it so. I’ll deal with you later. Then he was gone and I breathed a sigh of relief. Deal with me later? Maybe I’d scored enough points with my sire to keep him from wringing my neck over the Reedrek slipup. Or maybe not. I’d be able to judge that better when I saw him. I started making mental notes as to what all I had to do before sunup. First order of business—take a dead man on a road trip.

William

“Get away from her, you bloody bastard,” I growled as I grabbed Hugo by his hair and twisted him from Diana’s side. I’d been momentarily distracted by Jack’s frantic message but a few particular words resonated. Kill Hugo and get it over with. A splendid idea. “You told Will he was immune—that both of you were immune to this pestilence.” I clamped an arm around his neck. “Let’s test the truth of your words.” I bared my fangs, and jerked his head to one side to expose his neck. He struggled with the strength of a bull, nearly shaking me off. “Don’t worry—” I managed. “I won’t kill you now: I’d rather watch you rot. Already, I can feel the virus in my veins.” “Noooooo!” Diana shouted, and flew at us. She pushed my face away while at the same time pulling Hugo free of my hold. We wrestled, careening against the breakfront, knocking chairs askew. Still she managed to get between us. “Run!” she ordered, shoving him toward the door. “Go back to the ship, anywhere! Get out!” She might just as easily have staked me through the heart. Even though Hugo had sold out her and our son, she still wanted him in her world. Hugo disappeared into the darkness, and a few seconds later I heard one of the cars I owned start and race down the driveway. Diana stood in the open doorway facing me. “Why?” I asked. But her newest betrayal riled my anger beyond conscious control. Blood began to seep from my bare chest. “Why?” Red mist burst forth, spattering everything in its path with my tainted blood. Diana blinked the mist out of her eyes and touched the blood on her face with a shaking finger. She looked horrified. “He’s my—Will’s sire. If you kill him we’ll lose his power.” She swallowed back a sob. “If Will dies—if you die, I’ll be alone.” Not the answer I was expecting. Slowly she sank down until she was sitting on the floor. “You said there’s no cure. Now we’re all going to die.” All except her lord, Hugo. I’d had enough of this intrigue: his time would come. “I won’t die,” I announced, and proceeded to call the mist of my fleeing anger back to me. Diana had tears in her eyes now. “What do you mean?” “Because there is a cure.” She just stared at me. “Pack up what you need. We’re moving Will into town.”

Jack I’d managed to make all the arrangements—all I could think of, anyway—on the cell phone on the way to the mansion in town. Tarney was delivering a nice antique coffin from William’s collection in the warehouse. Rennie, after I’d managed to wake him up in the middle of the night, had promised to get the backhoe on the trailer and start to the plantation with it ASAP. Then I called Connie, Tilly, and Werm, and invited them to the service. They all said they would come. I ticked off the funerary necessities in my mind. Coffin—check. Hole in the ground—check. Guests—check. Speakers—William and Iban could do the honors with the eulogy—check. What else did you absolutely, positively have to have for a funeral? One stiff, coming up. I just hoped he wasn’t too chatty. What is it with me and dead people? Other than the fact that I am one, I mean. I guess it’s just a gift, like William and Melaphia said. This is one gift I sometimes wish I hadn’t unwrapped. It can be just downright creepy.

Melaphia had, by accident, helped me out with the flowers. She’d left a plastic bag of herbs sitting beside Sullivan’s body and, after I lifted the blanket, I saw she’d sprinkled some directly on him as well, in his hair and over his eyes. In each hand he held a bundle of dried sweet shrub blooms. I hated to disturb the arrangement, but I had to get the funeral guest of honor on the road. I picked him up, took him out to the Corvette, and sat him in the passenger seat. Rigor mortis had come and gone, so he was fairly easy to manipulate. I briefly considered putting him in the trunk, but I remembered that I like to have never got little Huey in there. The trunk of a Corvette is too small to hold a whole normal-size body, and I didn’t think Iban would appreciate me dismembering his buddy after I’d failed to protect him from getting murdered in the first place. So I propped him up in the front seat and leaned his head against the headrest. If I got stopped by the cops I could always say I was driving my buddy home after he passed out from a night of hard drinking. That is, if they didn ’t notice that gaping hole in his throat. I went back into the house and found a cashmere scarf somebody had left in the hall closet, then tied it carefully around his neck. Yeah, that was the ticket. Problem solved. I returned to the driver’s side and hopped in. “Aren’t you going to put the top up?” Oh, crap. I looked all around me, searching in vain for a living, breathing being that voice could have come from. Finally I said, “Sullivan, is that you?” “Do you see anybody else here Sherlock?” “You don’t have to get snippy,” I said. “Oh, yeah? Why don’t you try being dead?” I looked at his corpse and smirked. “Yo. Vampire.” “You know what I mean. At least you’re animated.” “Look, dude, I’m really sorry. I had no idea Will would attack you. I flew right over there, but it was too late.” “I know. Don’t sweat it. That’s what I get for hanging out with the evil dead. No offense.” “None taken. But what do you mean?” “What I mean is, I always knew there was a danger in living among vampires, even the more gentle ones. They attract their own kind, and not all the bloodsuckers they attract are going to be benign. I was probably living on borrowed time anyway.” I’d never thought of it that way, but he was right. William and I had lived charmed lives for a long time before the evil ones — Reedrek, then Hugo, and who knew who was next—came for us. That didn’t bode well for the humans we loved—Mel, Renee, and Connie. It was a depressing thought. “Live by the fang, die by the fang, that’s all I’m saying,” he said. “So, seriously, can I get you to put the top up?” “Why?” I heard him sigh. “Because this is a hundred-dollar hair-style and I don’t want to go to my maker with my hair standing out like I stuck my finger in a light socket.” If things were different, I would’ve been laughing my ass off right about now, but I wasn ’t in the mood for much frivolity. “There’s no time.”

“Hey, buddy, I got nothing but time. Where are we going anyway?” “Your funeral. You don’t want to be late for your own funeral, do you?” “I guess not. But I don’t want to have bad hair either.” I leaned over and redid the scarf so that it went over his head and tied under his chin. It still covered the gaping hole in his neck. “There,” I said. “All better.” “I suppose that’ll have to do,” he said. “You have a way with accessories. Are you sure you’re straight?” “Thanks, and yes, I’m sure.” The herbs Melaphia had used on him were probably the same ones she’d used to spruce up Huey and Shari. He looked—and smelled—presentable enough for an open casket service if that’s what he wanted. I pulled out into the street and headed for the plantation. “So, where’s my final resting place to be?” “The plantation’s family burial ground. It’s right next to the woods. You’ll like it there.” “It’s as good a place as any,” he said wistfully. “Iban is the closest I have to family, so I might as well be planted somewhere nice even if I don’t know anybody there. How is Iban anyway? Is he still…” His voice faltered. “He’s all well again,” I said. “Melaphia let him feed on her, and her special blood cured him. It was Gerard’s idea.” “Thank goodness,” Sullivan said. “Listen, I’ve got to know something. Why did Will attack you that night? I saw you talking and then all of a sudden he went for your throat like a junkyard dog.” I stopped for a red light and he kept on going, bouncing his head off the dash. I propped him back up and straightened his jacket, which was still stained with blood. If only Chandler was back at the plantation we could get him to clean it. Chandler is a wiz with bloodstains. “Thanks, man,” the spirit said. “Yeah, I nearly forgot about that. I’m glad you can hear me, ’cause this is important. It was Will who brought us the virus. I’ve spent the last few hours piecing it together in my mind and I’m pretty sure I’ve figured it out.” “I was afraid of that. How did he get into your colony?” “He sweet-talked the vampire who was on security one night. We built our own gated community, you know. It was supposed to protect us from curious humans…and predators.” “I heard that,” I said. “William said you guys thought of everything.” “Obviously not everything. Evidently, Will charmed his way into our midst without baring a fang. I only saw him once and had no reason to mistrust him. In fact, I’d forgotten about him until the night he ripped my throat out.” The last time, I thought. “Why didn’t Iban recognize him?” “As far as I know Iban never met him. As for me, I only saw him from across the room at a party at the colony. Someone pointed him out to me as the new vampire in town, but I never got the chance to introduce myself. We started on the road trip out here the next day and I promptly forgot about him.” “So how did he spread the virus, and how did you get it?” “I had it?” the ghost said, shocked. “How do you know?”

“Because Will got sick right after he bit you.” “It couldn’t happen to a nicer vamp. I hope his balls rot off.” Sullivan thought a minute and then continued, “It must have been the swans.” “Swans? So the vampires got sick feeding off the infected swans.” “Do you remember the name Typhoid Mary?” Sullivan asked. “Biological warfare in its simplest form.” “So how did you get infected?” “What does it matter now?” Sullivan sighed. “I’m dead anyway. In fact it’s just as well we’re both dead the way you’re driving. Good grief, are you trying to set a new land speed record or what?” I gritted my fangs. Have I mentioned how much I hate it when people complain about my driving? I was getting more and more agitated when I thought about the time Sullivan spent with Connie. I had to know if she was at risk. “I’ll tell you why it matters,” I said. “I need to know if you’ve infected Connie. Now I’ll ask you again: How could you have contracted this plague?” “You want to know if this can be spread by having sex,” Sullivan said. “I only have sex with human women, but I do—or I used to—let the vampires feed on me sometimes. What can I tell you? It’s a rush. I let one of the girl vamps suck my blood at the party the night I saw Will. So I must have gotten it that way. And as far as giving it to Connie goes, you can relax. We didn ’t have sex. She wouldn’t even kiss me. She’s too hung up on you, man.” I eased back in the seat, feeling like a ten-ton weight just fell off my shoulders. Thank God. “So…Connie’s hung up on me, huh?” Sullivan chuckled. “Yeah. What is it with you two anyway?” “It’s a long story.” “Like I said, dude, I got nothing but time.”

William As Diana, Will—somewhat stronger but still supported by Diana—and I left what used to be my stately residence, I stopped to survey the damage. My home…the furniture, glassware, curtains, and even the walls and ceiling were in a shambles. It looked as if a small tornado had spun through the house much like the undead storm named Diana had torn through my life. Chandler would be furious at the wreckage. I remained furious at some parts of my personal damage and fascinated by others. Ah, the folly of love and expectations. My portrait still hung over the fireplace, the symbol of another time, another life. Nothing would be the same from now on. Halfway to the Houghton mansion with Will and Diana in the Lincoln Town Car that Chandler usually drove, I remembered Eleanor. I used the phone in the car to call Deylaud, but was pleased when Melaphia answered. “What are you doing awake?” “I’ve slept round the clock since yesterday. It’s almost time to get Renee up for school.” She sounded stronger, certainly stronger than when I’d brought her home. My conscience still squirmed. “How are you?” “Better, Captain.”

I wanted to say, Better, that’s it? But what could I expect? She’d been ravaged by a monster at my request. “Good. I’m relieved to hear it.” Diana, sitting in the passenger seat, turned to look at me, probably because of the concern in my voice. “Where are you?” Melaphia asked. “You need to come home. We have to talk.” “I’m on my way there…with visitors. We’ll have to talk later. Best for you to clear out. Go back to your house, both of you.” I’d made the decision not to mention Renee’s name in front of Diana. “Your friend Gerard took blood samples from Renee.” “Yes.” For the vaccine. “I thank you for—” “Don’t thank me yet. You have to know I’ll never let anyone touch Renee—not like what happened to me.” “Neither would I. On my life. Never.” Her voice was calmer when she spoke again. “All right, we’re going home. Come to see me when you can.” “I will, I promise. Now I need to speak to Eleanor.” “You can’t; she’s not here. That’s the other thing we have to talk about.” “What do you mean? Where is she?” “I don’t know. She packed her things and left you a note. And…she took Deylaud with her.” A chill of unpleasant surprise ran through me. Deylaud knew that if he left my home without permission he could be banned from ever returning. For a creature such as he, not serving his master would be torture, and in breaking his trust he would shorten his very life. No honor, no immortality. I found it hard to be angry with him, however; I knew he loved Eleanor. Perhaps he thought she needed him more than I did. “I understand. Thank you for letting me know. I’ll speak with you soon.” I hung up the phone and gripped the wheel. “Has your new little love slave run away, then?” I didn’t bother to answer. Diana leaned her head back and sighed. “Ah, what a pair you and I are. Willing to give up any others to cling to our despair.” I didn’t bring up the fact that she hadn’t given up Hugo when she’d had the opportunity. Instead I concentrated on Eleanor. Where are you? Her answer was slow in coming. What do you care? You know I care. The sun will rise soon. You must come home. Will you be there? Now here was the tricky part. Yes, I answered. But not alone.

I felt her gasp of pain. You’re bringing her? Yes, and another. Where are you? You can’t tell where I am? You used to know exactly. You used to stay put. No more. What does that mean? It means I have other friends besides you. I let her taste my displeasure for challenging me. What other friends? Distress radiated in return. I’m with Tami—one of my girls. They’ve been staying at the Courtland Bed and Breakfast since the house burned. You should remember that since you’ve been paying the bill. Ah, my Eleanor. Even when in a corner she was not easily cowed. After her disastrous meeting with Diana, and given the virus running through Will’s body and my own, it would be best for her to stay away, but I didn’t like the idea of not being consulted. You must be hidden when the sun rises, left alone to sleep. Deylaud has already set us up in the basement of the Courtland…until my house is finished. Not exactly alone. At least she would be protected, but I had no intention of allowing her —angry or not—to sleep in a dusty basement across town for the next several months. Do you understand the cost to Deylaud? She took a moment to think about it. It’s not his fault I—Promise you won’t hurt him because of me. I don’t have to hurt him…or you. Anything you do unsupported by my will can hurt in some way or another. The two of you belong to me. I used to think so. If you believe nothing else, believe that. Sleep well. Diana may have wondered at my silence but she seemed lost in her own thoughts. Strands of emotions and expectations held me in a web woven by my own heart. Each time I freed myself from one, another fluttered forth and took its place.

Reyha met me at the door, crying. “My brother is gone,” she wailed, inconsolable. “He left us—me.” That was probably a first for this tender creature who’d lived more than two thousand years. I hugged her to my chest and stroked her hair. One more broken heart to mend. “Yes, I know, sweet.” “We have to get him. Bring him back—” She noticed Diana standing behind me supporting Will. She blinked back the tears but clutched me more tightly. “Who are you?” I turned, bringing Reyha and Diana face to face. “This is—” I almost said my wife. “This is Diana and Will.” Reyha sniffed and nodded, then turned to me again. “Shall we go? Do you know where he is?” Offering a sweet to make my answer more palatable, I kissed her on the top of her head. “I know where. But we won’t be going

just yet.” “But—” “I have other things to do right now.” I removed myself from her clutching fingers and helped Diana move Will downstairs. Gerard looked up as we entered the vault. “Melaphia said you were on your way.” He moved toward Will as we settled him into one of the extra coffins brought in for the meeting. “He seems better.” “Yes, I think my blood helped—” Gerard stopped and looked at me with a critical eye. “How are you?” I decided the truth would be the best course. “I feel…different, I suppose. That’s all I can say.” Gerard grasped my arm and pushed up the shirtsleeve to examine the angry bite marks in my wrist. They should’ve been nearly healed by now, yet they remained red and swollen. My wrist felt warm. “I’ll need blood samples from you both.” “Cuy says you have a cure,” Diana said. Busy with his medical kit, Gerard finally looked up —not at Diana, but to me. “The results look very good. We should know soon,” he answered. Diana moved to stand next to me. “Please cure my son.” Gerard looked at her then. “Madam, I intend to cure us all.” Gerard took the blood samples and injected Will with a large syringe of blood directly into the carotid artery in his neck. Then he suggested we all get some rest. “Jack called. We have a funeral to attend tomorrow night.”

It took the remaining minutes of darkness to get Diana settled into Eleanor’s coffin and to relax into my own. The significance of Diana’s presence—claiming one of my gifts to Eleanor—wasn’t lost on me. I told myself it didn’t matter since Eleanor had never slept in her own coffin but had stayed with me in mine. Then the idea of Diana sleeping in my arms nearly gutted me. Even after being around her these few days I had no real sense of what might happen in the future. This formidable incarnation of my wife was a stranger to me in so many ways. I suppose she might say the same about me. It was hard to know what to hope for —whose heart might be stronger, whose trust would be shattered. The mess was more than I could predict and, with that thought, I drifted to sleep sooner than I expected.

The sound of a giggle awakened me. Not a usual occurrence in a vampire’s dark world. I could feel the sun setting outside. I tested my awakening arms and legs; my body seemed normal, with no sign of the odd way I’d felt the evening before. As I swung the lid of my coffin open, another giggle reached me. I sat up and scanned the room. Eleanor/Diana’s coffin remained shut. Gerard had fallen asleep on a cot in the corner. There was nothing to alarm me until I saw Renee and Reyha crouched on the floor near the fireplace—next to a reclining Will. Something near my still heart lurched. “I gather you’re feeling better,” I said to him.

He smiled in answer. Renee pushed up from the floor. Then, with a glance toward Will that I could only describe as longing, she bounded toward me. “Good evening,” she said with a little curtsy. “Will is teaching me cards. A game called Primero. He said he learned it when he was a boy, and the English king used to play it.” I did my best to hide my alarm. Renee alone with Will was not a comforting sight. “I see that,” I said, and ran one hand over her braids. “Does your mother know you’re here?” Her expression changed immediately. “No sir.” She looked down. Reyha slunk over to me, looking as if she hadn’t slept all day. “I think you need to go home. Take Reyha out with you. We have work to do.” Renee did her best to hide her disappointment. Since she’d been old enough to run from one house to the other she’d loved to be present for my waking—her favorite time of day. She raised a hand to stroke Reyha’s head. “Okay,” she said. But I’d been distracted by a bruise on her arm. It looked like a puncture wound. If Will had touched this child I would kill him myself. I grasped her wrist gently and turned her arm up. “What happened to your arm?” Before I realized my mistake, she answered. “Mr. Gerard had to test my—” Reyha barked, obviously thinking more quickly than I could, and interrupted her. I did my best to convert the awkward conversation back to normal. “I see. Yes, I remember now. All right, take yourself home and tell your mother I’ll be over to visit her soon.” I wanted her out of the area as fast as I could make that happen without dragging her myself. I also wanted to order her to stay away, but that would be spice on the already juicy mistake I’d made. Reyha followed Renee out but her bark had awakened Gerard. Diana soon followed. Will rose from the floor and helped his mother from her resting place. “You look so much better,” she said, running her long fingers through Will’s unkempt hair. The smile he bestowed on her was completely different from his usual sneer. “Yes, Mother. I think I’m cured.” “We’ll see about that,” Gerard said. Then, looking at me: “How do you feel?” I pulled up my own shirtsleeve and showed him. The marks were gone. “One battle won,” Gerard said, patting me on the shoulder. “This way.” He signaled for Will to go and sit down in the straightbacked chair near his commandeered medical equipment. Diana stepped toward me, her eyes soft. She slipped her hand in mine and leaned close to whisper, “Now that we know you’re well, is there somewhere we can go to be alone?” The warmth in her tone sent a jolting crush of need through me. If I closed my eyes perhaps I could find the living, breathing, mortal woman I’d loved so dearly. My throat was too tight to answer. I simply tugged her toward the passageway, up the stairs, and into the master suite. She was kissing me before I’d closed the door, her arms sliding around my neck, pulling us closer. The shape of her in my arms was so familiar but— “You taste different,” I said, the words getting lost in her mouth. She rubbed herself against me, thighs to neck. “So do you.” Pulling back to look in my eyes, she ran a hand down my chest and

lower, over the erection I couldn’t hide. She smiled, looking naughty and supremely interested in what she’d found. “You feel the same, however.” I caught my breath as she tightened her fingers in just the right places. Then I lowered my mouth to her neck and used my hand to unfasten her blouse, intending to get her out of it. She stopped me by framing my face with her palms and pushing my chin up. “Thank you for saving Will,” she whispered, gazing at me as if I’d hung the moon. The intense appreciation I saw in her eyes warmed my cold heart. But another disturbing thought followed on the heels of her emotion. “I don’t want your gratitude,” I managed. It was a lie. I wanted anything she would be willing to give. Most of all, I still wanted her love, her body, and a few thousand years of her future. All or nothing. Hugo be damned. “You have it, just the same. Now I’d like to do something for you.” I touched her lips with mine. “I thought that’s what we were about just now.” “Not lovemaking. Not just yet.” Now I was completely puzzled. With her hand still resting on my nether parts she was—“You’re not saying no to me,” I said in disbelief. She smiled. “No, not really. I’m saying…soon.” I must admit she still knew how to try my patience—or was that, whet my appetite? “What the devil are you talking about?” She drew in a long, slow breath, then lowered her lashes. Removing her hand from my pulsing cock she brought it up to sweep her sweet-smelling hair off one shoulder to expose her pale, graceful neck. “I want you to bite me. Feed from me.” Too shocked to answer, I stared at the velvety skin. Looking up at me, she continued, “If we make…love, you’ll lose power. I want to help you regain what you lost by feeding Will. By saving him…Take my power now instead of offering me yours. I need you stronger, not weaker.” Her hands were around my neck again, pulling me downward. “I want you to, I—” She moaned as my fangs found their mark. I might have moaned as well but my mouth was too busy, sucking, savoring. She tasted of cool breezes and of honey mead. But most of all, she tasted of home.

Jack By the time I’d gotten Sullivan into one of the suits from the wardrobe William kept at the plantation and had fitted him into the handsome oak coffin, the human guests—namely Tilly and Connie—had arrived. Rennie had dug the hole during the day. William had gotten there, too, and had successfully calmed Iban down. When Sullivan was ready, Iban asked for some time alone with him, so Lucius went off to make some phone calls to the New York colony. William engaged Tilly in a battle of wills over whether she would allow him to carry her to the grave site since it was a long way to walk. Werm had shown up and was talking to Gerard. That left me to entertain Connie. She was beautiful in black. “Thanks for coming,” I said. I remembered what Sullivan had said about her being hung up on me, and for a few seconds I forgot I wasn’t alive. “Thanks for asking me.” She looked around nervously at the other vampires, not meeting my gaze. I guess there was no use looking a creature you didn’t think was real in the eyes. “Are you sure I’m safe here?”

“Yeah, you’re safe. These are civilized vamps and even if they weren’t, I’m here to protect you. And I found out you weren’t exposed to that virus after all, so you’re safe on all counts.” “Thank God,” she said, visibly relieved. “How is Iban?” “Physically, he’s much better. That guy I told you about—the scientist—figured out a cure and it worked. Emotionally, he’s pretty torn up. Sullivan was his best friend.” Connie nodded. Inclining her head toward William and Tilly, who were still in an intense debate, Connie said, “What’s with those two? Is she a vampire?” I chuckled. “No, although she’s always had that as an option if she wanted. She’s William’s oldest mortal friend. They were quite an item about seventy years ago. He still dotes on her. Right now he ’s fussing about her standing out in the cold for the funeral.” “They had an affair?” Connie’s tone sounded forced, as if she was trying to sound casual about something serious. I looked deeply into her eyes, willing her to open her heart to me, if not in words then in feeling. “They had a grand affair after he killed her bastard of a husband. William treated her like a queen. He offered Tilly eternity, but she turned him down. He never went against her—in anything. To this day, her wishes are his command. Let me tell you this about vampires: We’re powerful and hard to kill. So is our loyalty—our love.” Connie’s dark eyes smoldered. “Demons can love?” “Don’t ever doubt it.” She nodded, but I couldn’t tell what she was feeling. She was keeping her emotions to herself. The double doors to the parlor opened and Iban came through, eyes streaming with tears. William, Lucius, and Gerard went to his side to serve as pallbearers of Sullivan’s closed coffin. Connie put her hand to her mouth and her eyes swam with tears. Then, remembering, she turned to me. “Did you kill the monster who did this like you promised?” “No,” I admitted. How could I tell her I had to go back on my word to her in order to try to salvage my rocky relationship with my sire? “I can’t. It’s complicated,” I said lamely. “That seems to be your answer to a lot of hard questions.” Connie’s eyes clouded. “Well, if I have powers of my own, as you say, I suppose I’ll just have to use them and learn how to kill vampires myself, won’t I?” With that, she turned on the heels of her smart black pumps and followed the others out the front door and toward the cemetery. Just when I sensed Connie was learning to deal with the fact that vampires exist and I am one, just when I thought I might be making progress with her, I was back to being worse off than I was before I ’d owned up to being undead. But that’s not what caused a shudder like a jolt of electricity to pulse through me at her last words. Something about the thought of Connie using her powers to kill my kind gave me a sense of dread greater than I’d ever gotten from Reedrek or Hugo, or, hell, anything in almost a hundred and fifty years. I’d just introduced her to nearly every vampire I knew. I tried to shake it off, but as I went to join the others in the boneyard, I got a premonition that hard times for bloodsuckers had only just begun.

Eighteen

William The night seemed to be holding its breath: No breeze rustled inland from the ocean, no rolling cold front spread down from the northwest. There was only silence and the cold, still, breath of death. And the watchers: Spirits drawn by this gathering of mourners unconcerned by our lack of heartbeat or warmth. “Sullivan—creditworthy companion, mortal compatriot, faithful son to Iban—is dead.” I spoke to the group gathered along the hastily dug grave site with Iban standing next to me. The rest were scattered among the moldering stones: Lucius, Gerard, Jack, Lamar, and the mortals, Connie and my dearest Tilly. Eleanor refused to be present, remaining apart from me and my faithlessness. The others missing were not welcome here: Hugo, Diana, and the murderer, Will. “His death is a mark against us all. In a few short weeks we have lost more kin than at any time in our New World history. We must look to one another for strength now, no matter past grudges.” I could feel Iban’s simmering gaze. He knew I was speaking to him most of all. “We have no clergy to officiate. For Sullivan though, I would quote Dylan Thomas, one human who also spent too few years in this world:

“Old age should burn and rave at the close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.” I leaned toward Iban. “Do you have something you’d like to add?” He seemed to be making a great effort to guard his emotions. “What I would say would be no comfort to anyone here, least of all to Sullivan. I’ll not taint his memory with an argument over his corpse.” I nodded. Iban had a right to his anger, and I knew we’d be revisiting the subject of Sullivan’s murder soon. I left his side and went to Tilly. Slipping an arm around her shoulders and the other under her knees, I lifted her. “You’re as light as a feather,” I said, doing my best to push back my alarm at her frailty. I knew it would not be long until she asked me for her last wish. I wasn’t ready to speed her passing, to let her go. She sighed. “One can never be too rich, or too thin,” she said. “But one can be too old.” “I’ll always be older than you by half a millennium,” I answered in my usual banter. We’d had this discussion many times in the last fifty years. In the first twenty of our acquaintance we’d been unconcerned and too busy to fret over the future. “Do you wish to stay with us this evening?” “No, I think not.” We’d reached the house by this time, and I set her on her feet. She patted my chest. “Funerals make me tired.” Then she walked over to where Iban was in conversation with Jack. They seemed to have a lot to talk about. Tilly stepped

up to Iban and embraced him. “No more sorrow, no more pain,” she whispered into his ear. He nodded and looked deeply in her eyes for a moment. Then he slipped an arm around her and walked her toward the front of the house and to her waiting car. Part of me was glad to see her go. The rest of us had unhappy business to discuss and there was a good chance it could come to blows. I went to Jack. “Thank you for arranging this.” It would’ve been inappropriate for me to have set up the funeral for the mortal my son had killed. Jack looked surprised by my statement, but he recovered quickly. “Yeah well, I kinda felt responsible and I—” “Yes, and you’re used to dealing with human remains.” “If you mean I have a little more respect than to leave them behind like empty beer cans, then, yeah, you’re right.” His belligerence actually brought a smile to my face. It felt like coming home. Comforting, after having my world turned upside down like a ship rolled by a rogue ocean wave. I’d survived the tipping, but now the only thought filling my head was for…Diana. The memory of her taste made my jaws ache for more. I looked over Jack’s head toward the small family cemetery. Connie had stayed behind, as far away from us as possible. I couldn’t blame her. She stood out among us like a lamb among lions. “I think you should have your police-woman go home. What happens here may be more than her courage can take.” Jack flinched. “Not her courage. She’s already seen the worst of us in action, thanks to that rat-bastard, Will. I’ll send her on her way in case she goes all Dirty Harriet on us—” “And we have to kill her as well.” His features settled into a scowl. “That isn’t what I meant.” Instead of arguing further, he paced off the porch in her direction. I had no time or intention to kill Connie, but I couldn’t be sure of the others. “Jack?” He stopped and turned, hands braced on hips. “What?” “Remember, Will is contained but Hugo is still out there. If we learned anything from Reedrek, it ’s that our loved ones are in danger. Make sure she knows that.” Jack nodded briskly and continued across the yard. Someone tapped me on the shoulder. “William—I mean, sir?” “Yes, Lamar?” When I turned to face Werm he blanched as though I might strike him and his features went slightly transparent at the edges. I considered the disappearance of the spiked hair an improvement. “I was just wondering, I mean—How is Will? Jack told me he was sick and I—I can’t ask him again ’cause he’s so mad—” “Will is fine now,” I answered, but the mere mention of his recovery shifted my thoughts once again to Diana and my promised reward. I could only call it an obsession. Paradise awaited me at home and I could barely contain my exhilaration. She would finally be mine again after— “Do you think I could pay him a visit? I mean, I know he’s vicious and all but he won’t hurt me. We’re buddies.” Was that how everyone saw my son? Like a rabid animal out of control? No wonder they wanted him dead. Before I could answer I heard Iban’s voice, as though he’d read my mind. “That dog needs no ‘buddies,’ as you say. He’ll be dead soon.”

“Iban, please—” He walked past us into the darkness toward Sullivan’s still-open grave. Werm looked ready to bolt. “Go ahead,” I said. “He’s at my house on Houghton.” Before he walked away I added, “And Werm—don’t tell him about Iban’s vendetta. I hope to change his mind.” “Yes sir.”

Jack Now that Tilly was on her way back to town, Connie was the only human left. She stood at graveside alone, as if she didn ’t know what she should do next. By the time I reached her side, Iban was there, too, staring abjectly into his friend’s open grave. “If only I could talk to him once more,” he said, his voice breaking. “Uh,” I began. “I don’t know if you know this, but I can talk to dead people. I’d be glad to be the go-between if you want. Kind of like…an interpreter.” Iban blinked. “Yes. Yes, please, Jack. That would be so meaningful to me.” He thought for a moment. “Where do I begin? Sullivan, I want to thank you for everything you did for me through the years. For the friendship, the acceptance, the understanding. The…courage. Few men are brave enough to look a demon in the eye, see what goodness there may be in him, and call him friend.” I glanced at Connie to see her reaction to Iban’s words. She was staring at me, wide-eyed. Whether she was moved by Iban’s statement or floored by my ability to communicate with the dead, I couldn’t tell. “Sullivan says he can hear you,” I said. “He says he blesses the day he met you in UCLA film school. He says he’s glad he was taking night classes.” Iban’s laugh became a choked-back sob. “You bless the day we met, even though our friendship led to your premature death at the hands of a monster. I’m sorry, amigo, that I didn’t protect you as I swore to do so many years ago. I did not maintain my vigilance on your behalf, and you paid the price with your precious mortal life.” “Sullivan says not to blame yourself. He says thanks to you he saw and did more than most humans would do in two mortal lifetimes.” Iban stared into the grave as if he could see through the solid wood of the coffin lid. “I vow to you that I will avenge you. I will suck your blood from the veins of your murderer and rend his flesh from his bones. That I swear upon my immortality.” “Thank you, old friend,” I repeated for Sullivan. “Don’t blame yourself. It was me who made the fatal mistake by letting down my guard. I knew what Will was. Don’t risk your living death for me. You should get on with the rest of your existence. As we say in the movie business, that’s a wrap. Adios.” “Vaya con Dios,” Iban said through a sob. He stalked off in the direction of the house, but stopped after a few steps and walked back to us. He extended his hand to Connie, and when she took it, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it with a bow. “Thank you for coming, my dear. I know it means a lot to Sullivan, and it means much to me as well.” Connie nodded. “I’m very sorry for your loss. I know you loved him.” She glanced at me sidelong, her dark Latin gaze locked on mine. If I’d had a working heart, it would’ve been skipping like an old eight-cylinder in need of a tune-up. I know you loved him, I repeated in my mind. Her message was clear. She now believed what I’d told her: a demon can love. She’d seen it in Iban. He nodded and released her hand. “Good-bye,” he said. “I’m glad he had the friendship and company of a woman as beautiful and delightful as yourself in the last few days of his life.” “It was a pleasure to know him, if even for a few days.”

With a last courtly bow, Iban headed for the house again. “Let me walk you to your car,” I told her. I wanted to ask her if she was okay, but I thought better of it. She’d just faced down half a dozen vampires without flinching. On top of that she ’d found out I could talk to dead people and the dead people talked back. That alone would give someone a lot to think about. As soft as her expression had been just minutes ago, her eyes were getting flinty as she stared straight ahead. You could almost see the wheels of her mind turning at a thousand RPM. “I’m glad someone has the balls to go after that murdering monster.” I winced, feeling the jab just as she intended. “Like I keep telling you, me going after Will is complicated. It has to do with William and vampire politics, and someday I’ll explain everything.” But I could feel that something besides my fortitude—or lack of it—was uppermost on her mind. “What are you thinking?” I asked her. “I mean really thinking.” By that time we were at her car. “I’m thinking about everything I’ve seen in the last few days. Most especially what I just saw and heard at this funeral. I’m thinking about your ability to talk to the dead, and about possibilities I never dreamed existed until now.” “What possibilities?” I asked. She got into her car and gave me a last, hard look before she started the engine. “Do you think you could…interpret for me some time? There are a couple of people I have to contact. It’s a matter of life and death.” “Yeah, I guess. What’s the story?” “It’s complicated.”

William The rest of us gathered in the living room. After moving Diana and Will into town the night before, I ’d had Chandler bring a group of professional cleaners into the plantation house to straighten out most of the mess while we slept through the day. The broken furniture had been removed and the holes in the walls and ceiling had been patched, although not repainted. Much as our group differences had been cut open but not healed. I used my role as host to open the conversation. There were things I wished to say that had to be said quickly before Iban returned. “Thanks to Gerard’s brilliance, we believe we’ve found an antidote to the killing plague. In many ways it was a lucky thing the first strike landed in California—” “Not so lucky for them,” Lucius cut in. I frowned him down. “It could have just as easily been delivered to New York.” Then I addressed the group in general. “Have each of you heard from your respective kin in the last few hours?” Gerard and Lucius nodded. “Iban also heard from Tobey and Travis. They’re well and investigating the massacre,” Lucius said. I of course knew what had happened since Will had practically confessed. But this would be a very bad time to introduce that particular bit of information if I had any hope of keeping Will alive. “We still have to be very careful. The cure so far has worked on a one-on-one basis. But we’re limited as to how many we can treat because of the scarcity of pure voodoo blood. If we have another entire clan infected before I return home and increase our stocks, we’ll be in deep trouble.” “And we’ve used what little cure we have to save one who deserved to die,” Iban said, coming up behind me. “Will was our guinea pig—after you, that is,” Gerard said. “Now we know it’s the blood and only the blood that can affect a

cure, which is further borne out by the fact that William seems immune —to infection by bite, that is. I don’t know about feeding from infected swans.” He frowned. “I’ll need to develop an easier test for carriers. “William? Is there any way Melaphia might be persuaded to come with me back to Minnesota to—” “No way in hell,” Jack answered before I could. He pushed past me. “I don’t care if all our sorry asses rot and die. We’re not causing Mel any more pain.” “That’s easy for you to say, Jacko, since you’re probably immune, too,” Lucius answered. He pushed to his feet. “And I believe William turned over the leadership of the New World clans to me, so it’s my decision.” Jack started forward. “In your dreams, asshole—” The annoying ring of the telephone interrupted the conversation. Everyone in the room stopped but no one seemed inclined to answer it. On the third ring I felt a weak thrum of distress from Werm. He wasn’t very good at projecting his thoughts yet, but he could project fear. “What is it?” I said after jerking up the receiver. “William! Something bad—your house—” “Slow down and speak clearly. What about my house?” A flicker of unease ignited inside me. Diana. Had Hugo come back for Diana? Reyha wouldn’t have let him in… “I don’t know. I got here and—” He sobbed once and had to gulp in breath. “All the doors and windows are standing open. I’m afraid to go in. Something bad—” “Find a place out of sight and keep watch. I’ll be right there.”

Twenty minutes later, five of us stood in front of my house. I could feel Werm nearby but had no time to locate him in the shrubbery. Stay where you are, I ordered. If you’re invisible, stay that way. The house radiated menace even though every light in every room seemed to be on. The doors and windows standing wide open reminded me of the Alabaster. Instead of a ghost ship, we had a ghost house, abandoned in a hurry. Werm was right: Something bad had happened. I could only be glad I ’d banished Melaphia and Renee from here when I’d brought Diana and Will home and that Eleanor had stayed away on her own. It had to have been Hugo. Everyone else had been at the plantation. If he’d hurt Diana, no one would be able to save him from me. With a nod to the others I moved forward. I’ll go around back, Jack whispered in my mind. In a few short moments, we ascertained that the aboveground levels of the house were empty. I made my way downstairs with the others following. Another ominous sign: The candles usually burning on the array of Melaphia ’s altars were dark. I could remember only one other time in this century that had occurred, and it was the night when Melaphia ’s mother, Seraphina, died. A thumping sound reverberated from the vault and I readied myself to attack whoever might have caused this disruption. Stepping into the room seemed to suck the air from my lungs. A battle had taken place here, physical and metaphysical. I felt sick with dread. Melaphia would have stayed away—she knew the danger— Jack clattered down the stairs behind me. “Where’s Reyha and Deylaud?” he asked, not bothering to keep quiet. The room itself was empty but at the sound of his voice two things happened. The thumping began again, stronger but slower, and the high-pitched whine of a dog made the hair on the back of my neck prickle. Both sounds came from one of the closed coffins. I tried to push the lid open but it was locked. Rather than bother looking for a key, Jack jerked up the iron bootjack near

the fireplace and brought it down, once, twice, then a third time on the lock. The wood splintered and the lock fell out onto the stone floor. Diana—With her name on my lips I shoved the wood backward. The sight that greeted me nearly sent me to my knees. Melaphia, hands bloody, face battered. It had been she who made the thumping sound—pounding with all her remaining strength against sturdy English oak. Next to her lay Reyha in dog form. Her face was bloodied as well, and it looked as though both her back legs were broken. She whimpered, looking up at me in confusion. Her injuries had to be grave for her to revert back to her dog self. “Bloody fucking hell!” I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket and tried to stay the trembling in my fingers in order to wipe the blood bubbling from Melaphia’s mouth. The others who’d followed me here to fight all began to speak at once. “Quiet!” I demanded. “Search every inch of this place! Jack, see what you can find in the tunnels.” When he turned to do my bidding I added, “Don’t go far alone.” He nodded. With one furious look at the damage done to our family he stalked off. Hugo had better be long gone. While the others looked for clues, I rested a comforting hand on Reyha ’s shoulder but kept my gaze on Melaphia. “What happened, love? Who did this?” Tears rose in her eyes and her first attempt to speak failed. She coughed up more blood and said the one word with enough power to finish the job of killing me. “Renee—”

Jack God help any and all of those three limey bloodsuckers if I found them. The tunnel door was unlocked from the inside. That could mean they went out this way or simply that someone in William ’s household had been careless. The lingering scent of vampire wouldn’t be unusual either since William, Werm, and I all came and went that way often. Still, I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply to see what I could smell. The scent of vampire was there all right, but so was something else. Eleanor’s perfume. When had she last come this way? With my sense of smell—at least twice as good as that of the average vampire—I might be smelling her having been there days ago for all I knew. Or not. I took a quick look around the tunnels, not wasting the time it would take to venture too far in any direction since my gut told me they were long gone whether they’d come this way or not. The whole time I searched I knew there was something I was missing about this disaster—something my mind wouldn’t let me consider, much less believe. I didn’t want to know what it was, but I knew I was about to learn. After a few minutes I raced back to the vault. The first thing I saw was Gerard feeling gently along the whining dog ’s abdomen, trying to assess any internal injuries, I reckoned. At the same time, he whispered instructions to Werm as the youngster tried with shaking hands to splint the dog’s legs with a roll of gauze and what looked to be broken-off spindles from the kitchen chairs. The sight of Reyha’s gentle eyes in pain almost made me physically ill with rage and sorrow. But it was seeing Melaphia that did me in. From the easy chair where she sat covered with a blanket, she stared straight ahead while William questioned her about what happened. I could hear the strain of forced calmness in his voice and something I had never heard before: panic. My fearless, indestructible sire was trying to beat back the panic he was feeling. I then knew what it was that my mind had tried to protect me from.

Renee was gone. William glanced at me. I shook my head. “Nothing” was the only word I could manage. He turned his attention back to Mel. It was like she’d used up all her strength to signal us that she was in the coffin. When she finally was freed, she lost it. “Try again, my darling,” William pleaded. “You must. What happened and where were they going when they left here?” I got down on my knees in front of her. “Please, Mel, try for Uncle Jack. Tell us where they went with her.” I reached out to her with the blood of Maman Lalee. Speak, I commanded. Her eyes began to focus on mine, then she started to scream. “They charmed my baby! The red-haired devil enthralled her and she went with the four of them out to the tunnels even as Reyha and I were fighting to get her back!” “Four?” William’s red mist was rising, I could tell, but he was also confused. I caught Melaphia’s meaning, though, remembering the scent I’d picked up in the tunnels a few minutes before. “Eleanor,” I said. Melaphia nodded and broke into hitching sobs that brought on another fit of bloody coughing. She glared at William. “Get her back, or by the souls of my mothers—” “I will. I make you this solemn promise: I will get your daughter back if it takes my immortal life. ” William rose up from where he’d been crouching by Melaphia’s side, and I stood at the same time. Through the decades I thought I had seen my sire at his deadliest. I’d seen him eviscerate murderers, skin rapists alive, set rogue vampires afire and watch them writhe in a horrifying death dance until they burned clean to ash, impervious to their screams. I ’d seen his rage billow out of him in a red mist of blood and fury that turned a harmless crowd into an angry mob bent on mayhem. But I had never seen him look deadlier than he did at this moment. His face went as pale as marble and his pupils elongated like a cat’s and turned bloodred. When he finally opened his mouth to bark orders, his saberlike fangs shone sharp and snow white in the dim light of the vault. He looked ten feet tall although he was only levitating a foot off the floor. “Gerard, take care of Melaphia and Reyha. See to their injuries and guard them with your life. Werm, help Gerard and do whatever he tells you to do. Jack, come with me.” Lucius and Iban met up with us in the driveway. “We found nothing outside,” Lucius reported. “Not a footprint, not a scent of vampire,” Iban added. “Come,” William said, heading for his Mercedes. “Jack, drive.” “Where?” I asked, leaping over the hood to the driver’s side. “The docks,” William said. “As fast as this machine will go.” Any other night, that would be as funny as all get out. Not tonight. I cranked the sedan and we were off like so many immortal bats out of hell.

Poor bastards. I couldn’t help feeling sorry for them. We found two humans cowering in a storage cabinet in the ship’s main cabin but not a sign of the vampires. When we busted the humans out of the cabinet, they started jabbering in Russian. “Nyet Angliski!” they both said.

When William bared his fangs at them and told them they ’d better come out with anything they knew about their night-loving traveling companions or he’d eat them alive, they shut up and just stared and gaped and at least one of them pissed himself. Sometimes a heightened sense of smell wasn’t a blessing. “William, I doubt if these are vampire compadres. If they know anything about vampires, they would have known we could smell them out no matter where they tried to hide. My guess is that they’re just sailors who got shanghaied to drive the boat.” “Leave them to me,” Lucius said. “I’ll get what information as can be gotten out of them.” I opened my mouth to protest that Lucius would torture them and turn them into his own personal slaves, but William held up a hand to silence me. He let me read his thought that he didn’t give a damn what happened to the mortals at this point. To Lucius, he said, “Very well. Report back to the main house if you learn anything of use.” When William, Iban, and I reached dry ground again, Iban shouted out his frustration. “Where the hell could they be? If you had let Jack or me kill that evil son of yours, this wouldn’t be happening!” Iban’s simmering resentment toward William was so strong, I could feel it even though I wasn ’t particularly close to him bloodlinewise. My sire’s emotions were near the boiling point as well, but he kept himself in check. For now. I jumped into the strained silence. “There’s one place I can think of,” I said, and led the way back to the Mercedes. “When I took Hugo and Eleanor hunting in the tunnels, El refused to go back to the main house. She said she wanted to go to her place even though it ’s just a basement at this point. Hugo saw where it was. It’s the only place I can think of to look.” “Very well,” William said. If it occurred to him to berate me for letting Hugo too near Reedrek on that trip, he didn’t show it. He was too acutely focused on Renee. “Besides,” I said. “We need to see what’s become of Deylaud.” “If that hound had a hand in this—” “You know he would never do anything to hurt Renee. Please don’t hurt him,” I pleaded. William looked pained. “I won’t have to.”

The vampires and Renee weren’t at Eleanor’s either. But Deylaud was, and he was in such bad shape I couldn’t bear to look at him. Whatever anger William had felt toward Deylaud disappeared the moment he laid eyes on his formerly loyal servant. Unconscious and in his human form, he lay shivering on the concrete floor of the basement. His breathing was shallow and rapid, his pulse thready and weak. “What the hell is wrong with him?” Iban asked. “He’s paying the price for his defiance,” William said. “What does that mean?” “Deylaud and his sister—his littermate—Reyha are fey, mystical creatures. They were sworn to my service by a king of Prussia who willed them to me on his deathbed,” William said. “They guard me in my daytime resting place as their ancestors guarded the tombs of the pharaohs. In exchange for their service they were given two gifts —the ability to assume the form of both a human being and an animal, and immortality. If they break the vow of their former master the king, they forfeit both gifts. Deylaud knew that when he left my home without my permission to be with Eleanor. That’s how much he loves her.”

“So he’s dying?” I could barely get the words out. Deylaud and Reyha were already with William when he made me. I loved them both more than I ever realized. William leaned over his longtime companion. “Where is Eleanor?” he asked Deylaud. To me he said, “Look around.” Deylaud moaned and rolled up into a tighter ball. I checked the door in the basement and the tunnel beyond. No Eleanor. “Why would she leave him here to die?” I asked. William only shook his head and said, “Get him to the car. We have to return him to the house. Now.” I picked Deylaud up and headed for the Mercedes. Iban went with me to open the back door and get him settled in as gently as we could. I stroked Deylaud’s head as if he was in dog form and whispered in his ear, “Hang on, buddy. You’re going to be just fine before you know it, or my name’s not smilin’ Jack McShane.” Iban promised to stay with Deylaud while I went back for William. I walked to the edge of the basement, where the subflooring was not quite finished, and looked down into the dark expanse. I felt my eyes dilate to take advantage of the nearest streetlight and with my enhanced eyesight I could see William in the corner where Eleanor ’s altar had been. The glass where she’d put her seawater was shattered, the bits glittering like deadly little stars in the night. Beside the shards William stood with Eleanor’s silk shawl pressed to his face as if trying to drink in her scent for what might be the last time.

William The shells were waiting for me, calling to me before I even touched the bone box where they were kept. The call was strong and urgent; with my chosen family in such disarray, the Vodoun connection in my blood rose up to protect me. Lalee…help me defend your blood, or avenge it. While we’d been chasing phantoms, Melaphia had insisted on rising and refreshing her altars. With Werm as her apprentice, she’d relit the candles and now worked her own magic on her knees with head bowed. There was no time to question what had happened, who had done what to whom. I needed to find Renee. I left the others in the vault and stepped outside with the box of shells and one of Renee’s favorite books. Before the shells struck the stone I was flying over water, dark and cold. For a moment this startled me. My logic said it couldn’t be right. They’d left the boat at the harbor. Had they stolen another? Then I saw it, the sleek shape of the private jet charging through the thin clouds headed east over the Atlantic. They weren’t floating on water; they were flying over it. As in-substantial as an up-current of air, I felt the cold smooth surface of the metal before I passed through it and came face-to-face with Hugo. Without considering my lack of substance, I reached for his neck, intent on killing him first and worrying about questions later. The shock of my hand passing straight through his throat brought me back to my senses. Because then I saw Renee. She was seated at a table across from Will. While I watched, she laughed and scooped up the last trick of cards to win the game they were playing. Renee, I called to her. Whether because I’d gained enough power to make myself heard or Renee felt the pull of the shells in her ancient blood, she turned toward me. She wasn’t afraid. I could feel her calm assessment of the situation: She’d gone for a plane ride and expected to be home soon.

Will had said so. As though he sensed her withdrawal, Will ruffled her hair, causing her to giggle. Then with his own brand of deadly charm he pulled her around the table into his lap. She laughed and hugged him. “You won again, minx. I guess I’ll have to teach you a more difficult game to master. Unless you swear to let me win a few go’s.” In the next seconds, I received another unpleasant shock to add to this interminable night. Renee gazed up at Will with such love I felt transfixed. Pure, idealistic, childish love, but love just the same. The presence of that kind of love trumpeted defeat to me. Not only had they kidnapped her physically, but Will had stolen her heart. My gaze drifted beyond them for a moment and rested on Diana. She sat across from Hugo looking regal yet remote. The realization of her betrayal stabbed at me with icy knives. She’d obviously gone willingly along with this plan. She— “I believe I’ll see how our convert is faring,” Hugo said, and pushed to his feet. Diana’s eyes followed his movement but she didn’t speak. Hugo made his way to a door in the rear of the expensively appointed cabin. His hulking stature looked even larger in the confined space of the jet. With his hand on the knob, he hesitated, then turned back to Diana as though looking for a reaction. Diana’s features remained unreadable, but she spoke this time. “Do as you will.” Hugo, intent on some plan, shrugged and opened the door. Unexpectedly, I felt a familiar frission of distress mixed with fear. I was drawn to follow Hugo through the door. It was a bedroom with a luxurious king-size bed taking up a good bit of the space. And in the very center of that bed sat my Eleanor, she who must be obeyed, cross-legged and smiling. She was wearing her best business face, the one she ’d used on important clients or enemies—not the one she’d shown to me. She might be afraid, but she was also smart and determined to survive. I didn’t waste time wondering why she would betray me. I’d betrayed her first. But I did wonder what Hugo promised her that would be alluring enough for her to open my home to this scurrilous attack and to hand over Renee. Hugo unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt, then yanked it over his head. “Time to pay the piper,” he growled. “You’re free of him, like I promised.” So that’s what it was. He’d told her she’d be free of her sire. He’d taken her away to hurt me, without explaining the consequences. And she’d gone. He’s lying, I whispered. Eleanor jumped slightly. She’d heard me. Hugo hadn’t noticed, though, too busy unfastening his britches. Casually, Eleanor let her gaze wander around the room. I haven’t released you. You’re mine. Hugo can’t interfere with our bond. The chill of her precarious position must’ve reached her because she crossed her arms as though warding off the cold, hard truth. Hugo, naked now, reached across the bed and tangled his fingers in the front of Eleanor’s robe. “Get out of this,” he ordered, dragging her across the sheets toward him. In one smooth motion she was naked and on her belly. Standing behind her like a stallion in rut, Hugo fumbled around between her legs, then drove his cock into her. Where is he taking you? I asked.

I…don’t…know, she answered in cadence as Hugo pounded into her. Then out loud she gasped and gritted her teeth as he clamped his hands around her waist and pulled her upward to drive deeper. With powerful strokes Hugo grunted toward release like a dog with no consideration for his bitch. As he came, he tightened his grip and bit her savagely on the top of her shoulder. Eleanor moaned in pain as he sucked and bit again—not to feed but to subdue. After what seemed like an eternity, even to me, she sighed in relief as Hugo, done for the moment, withdrew and allowed both of them to fall back onto the bed. But instead of letting her go he shifted one heavy thigh to hold her down until he was ready for her again. Eleanor, lying with her face pressed into the pillow, stayed perfectly still. “Now everyone he loves belongs to me,” Hugo said. His fingers twisted Eleanor’s hair, forcing her to face him. When she only stared at him, he twisted tighter until she winced and tears sparkled in her eyes. “What do you think of that?” he asked. “I think that means you win,” Eleanor panted. Then to me and the room in general she silently added, I was angry. I’m sorry.

Nineteen

William I felt the shells shift and begin to reel me in like a kite blown too high into the wind. When I opened my eyes, Melaphia was sitting on the stone bench next to me, her expression colder than the winter wind. “Where is my baby?” she asked, never doubting that I’d found Renee. I sat up as the shells rattled back into their box of bone. There was no sense trying to make the news better, no room for anything but the truth. “She’s halfway across the Atlantic,” I answered. “With Will and the rest.” Melaphia’s hands curled tighter in her lap. “Is she all right? Have they—” “She’s fine, having a grand adventure so far.” I pushed to my feet, choosing my words. “Right now her loyalty is to Will. She loves him.” Only then did Melaphia allow the tears she’d been holding back to flow. Recovering, she raised her chin, looking very like the queen she might have been but for her family ’s connection to me. “You brought him to this house, to us.” She held me with her sparkling gaze. “What are you going to do to get her back?” “Whatever it requires.” “Do you swear it? Even if it means Will must die?” I kneeled and took her cold hands into mine. “I swear.” I bowed my head and kissed both hands to seal the bargain.

Please read on for an excerpt from

The Vampire’s Kiss the next book in

Raven Hart’s thrilling series

William I stared across the frozen landscape and watched the flames lick at the mansion I had just set on fire, consuming it bit by bit, much as I had consumed its inhabitants. I’ve never been much of a flesh eater, preferring instead to drink a creature’s blood, as I am a man of refinement. But I can make an exception now and then. My offspring Jack has been known to run down a buck from time to time, wrestling it by its antlers and delivering a killing bite to the jugular before feasting on its flesh. Only in season, of course. I believe it has as much to do with his ideas of southern machismo as it does with a sincere craving for the flesh of a living creature. Still, for decades it has kept at bay his lust for the human kill to which all we vampires are born. Ultimately, my Jack is a civilized blood drinker who knows how to keep his baser needs in check. As do I, for the most part. But tonight is different. Tonight is special. I indulged in a kind of savagery I had not allowed myself in centuries. One by one I ripped out the throats of the vampires inside the now -burning manse, sampling the blood and flesh of each one in turn. And I enjoyed it. My fangs to their throats, I bade each of them tell me the whereabouts of their leader. I heard the names of several cities, but I could smell the lies on the their lips, so I ripped out their throats. I severed the heads of some, and I even staked one with a spindle ripped from a wooden chair. I knew I would discover the truth before the night was done. It was pleasing to vent my wrath on the small band of blood drinkers, especially since I’d been forced to come all the way to this wildest and most frigid part of Russia to find Renee. The ones who fled with her had not returned to their home, however. Hugo and his clan would not have wished to lead me to the rest of their “family,” or to expose them to the rotting disease they might all now be carrying. Ironic that the pox had been developed on this very site as a form of biological warfare against we peaceful vampires of the New World. But the plague had escaped Hugo’s control, and one of their own—my son, Will—had been stricken half a world away. As I reflected on these matters, one of the mansion’s magnificent domes collapsed upon itself in a shower of sparks, making a sound like the hinges on the gates of hell creaking open to collect its due. A figure scrambled out of the burning shell of what had an hour ago been an impressive example of Russian baroque architecture. I had smelled a lone survivor of the carnage before I left the mansion, but it would have been too tiresome to ferret him out of the massive building with its surely inexhaustible variety of hiding places. I simply torched the place and waited for the rat to desert the burning ship. I stood in the shadow of a giant fir tree and watched him run, half-staggering from the structure, beating at his burning hair with his bare hands. He looked so comical that I briefly thought of letting him live; there were certain advantages in leaving an individual to tell the cautionary tale to others. But I wasn’t feeling particularly charitable tonight. I was on him in an instant, dragging him down to the snow-covered ground. I forced his head around to face me, nearly breaking his neck in the process, and let him see my fangs, which still held shredded bits of his comrades’ flesh. “What is your name?” I asked. “Vanya.” “Where is your master, Vanya?” I asked him. “Where has he gone?” “I don’t know,” he whimpered. “I swear it.”

“What good is the oath of the damned to me? Besides, you do know where Hugo and his mate are. I can smell it on you like I can smell your terror.” “You’ll just kill me anyway.” “Perhaps. Perhaps not. Know one thing for certain. If you don’t tell me you’ll be dead sooner than if you start speaking the truth.” I saw the decision in his eyes. “London,” he said. A less powerful vampire would not have known if he was lying. But I knew in my blood and in my bones that this was the truth. Tightening my grip on him, I pressed his throat to my mouth almost like a lover and delivered a killing bite that half severed his head. I left him staring sightless at the stars. “London,” I breathed, feeling myself smile for the first time since my beloved Renee had been kidnapped. It would almost be like going home again.

Jack “Ta-dah!” Werm stretched out his skinny arms and twirled around the abandoned shell of a room as if he were showing off the Taj-ma-freakin’-hal. The one bare lightbulb overhead illuminated a dingy, dirty hovel with peeling wallpaper and rat ’s nests in the corners. I didn’t need my super-duper vampire sense of smell to tell me that some of the homeless people of the city had been making it their home. Or at least their toilet. I looked at my little fledgling vampire friend in his usual getup of black leather and silver bling. His hair was an inky black, thanks to the modern miracle of Miss Clairol. “This is where you want to start your own goth bar?” I asked. “With my money?” “It’s perfect!” He gestured to one side of the room. “We’ll have the bar over here, and back behind me we can have the stage.” “Stage?” I wondered just what kind of shows Werm’s weird friends could come up with. Probably something like those crazy performance art pieces you hear about coming out of New York. I could see in my mind’s eye one of Werm’s little pals stuffing dimes up his nose while he recited the Gettysburg Address. “Yeah, we can get some bands, some spoken word artists—” “Whattaya mean ‘we,’ white boy?” I was planning to be a silent partner only. Silent as in never setting foot in the joint if I could help it. I had only agreed to the loan to help Werm get on his feet financially and keep out of trouble. In the movies, vampires never seem to have to make a living. Welcome to the real world. Besides, idle hands are the devil ’s workshop, as my poor sainted mother used to say. And when the idle hands belong to a bloodsucking demon to begin with, well… “C’mon, Jack,” Werm wheedled. “You’re gonna love this place once we get it fixed up.” “There’s that ‘we’ thing again.” Werm continued to ignore my skepticism and splayed out his hands in front of him. “This is going to be the most happening place in town. Everybody who’s anybody is going to want to hang out here. I’ve hired a decorator who knows just what I want.” Being a country music fan, I thought about that song, “I’m Going to Hire a Wino to Redecorate Our Home.” I wondered what a bar would look like after Werm’s goth friends got finished with the decorating. A funeral parlor, most likely. Not altogether inappropriate for a vampire, I reckoned. After all, Werm would be settling his coffin in the cellar of this place if this was where he wound up. His society parents were on the verge of kicking him out of the house. “Aren’t you getting the cart before the hearse?” I asked him. “You’ve got to get the thing built out before you decorate. Did you

get bids from that list of contractors I gave you?” “I did better than that.” Werm beamed. “I have a great idea about how to get the work done around here and save money at the same time.” Werm and “great idea” were not exactly two things that went together hand in hand. “Lay it on me,” I said. “I’m keen to hear this.” “I’m going to hire Eleanor’s whores to do the work. Think about it. They’ve been unemployed for weeks, and this will let them make some money and help keep them off the streets.” “That’s the craziest damn fool idea I ever heard! They ’re used to being on the streets. They’re whores. If they could do carpentry and drywall, they wouldn’t have to be whores.” I wasn’t expecting an awesome display of brain power from Werm, but dang. “Just because they’re whores doesn’t mean they can’t learn. If they ever decide to go legit, they’ll need to know a practical trade. If they applied themselves they might even learn to do something high class.” “You can lead a whore to culture,” I told him. “but you can’t make her think.” “I know what your problem is. You’re thinking of stealing them away from Eleanor. Maybe I should call you ‘Jack, the Killer Pimp.’” Werm busted out laughing. “I can just see you in a purple suit and a hat with a big feather in it.” “Laugh it up, fang boy,” I said. “Babysitting a bunch of homeless hos is not as much fun as it sounds.” I’d had to find temporary accommodations for five working girls while Eleanor’s house was being rebuilt at William’s expense. Reedreck had torched the classy brothel just for the sake of meanness. I ’d financed the prostitutes’ new housewares and wardrobes, held their hands and listened to their troubles. Hell, I’d even painted toenails and braided hair. “It sure looks like fun,” Werm said. “I’ll bet the girls are offering you all kinds of perks for being nice enough to help them out, you lucky dog.” He punched me weakly on the shoulder. Truthfully, they’d all offered to show me their appreciation in various ways, but I ’d decided to keep things on a professional level. “I’ve got enough stress right now without having jealous catfights break out.” “Cheryl says you’re the best-built and best-looking man in town. She says she wants to run her toes through your wavy, black hair. I think they are all in love with you.” “Stop it,” I said. “And Souxi says she wants to paint her new room the exact shade of blue as your eyes.” “I’m going to bite you if you don’t hush up,” I said. “They follow you around like little ducklings.” I gritted my fangs. Herding whores. This is what I had come to. I wasn’t going to look too tough to the other badasses in this city when they started challenging me for dominance over the territory—especially now that William wasn’t around to back me up. “Seriously, Jack. I think the bar would be the perfect place for them to work until Eleanor gets back.” If Eleanor got back. I’m not sure the seriousness of her situation had fully dawned on Werm. Her decision to leave her sire so soon after she was made was a dangerous one. Unless William released Eleanor formally and in person from the mystical, two -hundred-year bond of sire and offspring, she would start to physically “deteriorate,” as William put it. In other words, she would rot on her feet, return to being the dead thing

she was. I only hoped William made it to her in time. And as a fledgling without her sire’s protection, she was vulnerable to all kinds of predatory vamps. There was no telling what Hugo had promised her to get her to agree to go to Europe with him and the others. But if she chose to trust Hugo instead of William, that might well prove to be a fatal mistake. “Maybe you’re right about them learning a trade,” I said. “Once the place is finished, I think they’d be better off as cocktail waitresses than carpenters, though. I just doubt if their skills extend to the finer points of construction. Maybe they might be able to spackle the ceiling if they can do it laying on their backs.” “I can hang wallpaper,” a little voice behind me said. “And I do it standing on my own two feet.” I turned to see Ginger, one of Eleanor’s whores, standing there in a pair of pink overalls with a sample book under one arm. Oh, man, did I ever feel like a heel. “I’m sorry, darlin’,” I said. “I just meant—” “I know what you meant, Jack. But just because I’m a whore doesn’t mean that’s all I know how to do.” She thrust out a pouty, painted lip and sniffed. “I took a correspondence course in interior design.” I started to ask her if she had to copy a picture off a matchbook cover to qualify, but I bit my tongue in time to stop myself. Ginger was actually one of the brighter of the prostitutes in Eleanor’s employ. Unfortunately, that wasn’t saying much. “You’re the new decorator?” I scratched the back of my head. So the décor would run more toward contemporary whorehouse than gothic dungeon. I guess that might be an improvement. Either way, this was going to be the craziest drinking establishment in town. In fact, I wanted to get good and drunk just thinking about it. “I’m sure you’ll do a dandy job, darlin’,” I told her. She smiled a little before her girlish face broke out in a sad look. Werm took the sample book from her. “Listen, Jack didn’t mean—” “It’s not that,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m worried about Sally.” “What about her?” I asked. I’d noticed that Sally, the youngest of the prostitutes, had been a bit nervous and standoffish lately, and her skin didn’t look like healthy living human skin should look. I figured she was just stressed out by losing her belongings to the fire, as well as losing her mentor, Eleanor. “Promise not to get mad?” Ginger said, looking up at me between fanlike false eyelashes. I started to make the sign of the cross on my chest in a cross-my-heart gesture before I remembered what I was. You’d think that after a hundred and fifty years I’d remember I was damned. “I promise,” I said. “She’s on crystal meth,” Ginger said. “Oh, geez,” Werm exlaimed. “Are you sure?” “Yeah. Marlee saw her with a pipe. The kind they make from a lightbulb with the metal end sawed off and the guts taken out. Plus, she’s not eating and she’s letting herself go. Her skin looks terrible. She’s even getting speed bumps.” “That’s what formication will do,” Werm said, shaking his head. “It’s not from fornication. If it was from that, all us whores would have it,” Ginger said. “Not fornication,” Werm corrected, “formication. That’s when a meth addict feels like there’s spiders and snakes crawling under his skin.”

“So they scratch themselves until they’ve got sores all over, like Sally’s done.” Ginger said, understanding. “How do you know so much about meth addiction?” I asked Werm. “A guy I worked with at the mall was a tweaker,” he said. “He was messed up.” “Ginger, are you absolutely sure?” I asked. This was serious. One of the things William had told me to do before he left was to take care of Eleanor’s girls, and I didn’t want to let him down. Much less Eleanor herself. “I’m pretty sure. But that might not be her only problem. Some guy has been following her,” she said. “We think he’s a stalker or something.” “Why hasn’t somebody told me about this before?” Ginger shrugged. “She just told us this morning at breakfast. She says it’s been going on a few days now.” “Maybe he’s a pusher,” Werm offered. Ginger shook her head. “She swears she’s never seen him before. He’s tall and skinny and has these parallel scars down one side of his face. Like something with huge claws got hold of him.” “Meth users get paranoid a lot,” I said. “Maybe it’s her imagination. But just in case, I’ll check out her source. Do you know where she’s getting the ice?” I asked. I could really get off on draining anybody who would sell that poison to people, especially an innocent like Sally. It seemed strange to think of a prostitute as innocent, but there was something naïve and vulnerable about her that made me afraid for her even before I heard this disturbing news. She seemed to need somebody to take care of her. I guess Eleanor as her madam filled that role. “She gets it from a gang of cookers that live down by the marsh. There’s a whole family of them. Their name’s, um, Thrasher.” “Oh, crap,” I muttered. “Do you know them?” Werm asked. “You could say that.” I first met up with that clan in the twenties when they made illegal whiskey and I ran it—that is, delivered it—for them. They tried to shortchange me a time or two, but I could forgive them for that. What really chafed me was when they poisoned a bunch of my friends with some ’shine. They knew it was a bad batch but were too stingy to throw it out. Killing your customers is bad for business any day of the week, but I was particularly sore because I gave that jug of rotgut to those old boys whose lives it took. We were playing cards one night in a speakeasy out by the river. We all passed out. I was the only one who woke up. That one was tough to explain to the authorities. They didn ’t exactly buy my “cast-iron stomach” explanation, but they couldn’t prove I brought in the ’shine since all the witnesses had gone toes-up. It seemed that the Thrashers hadn’t learned a thing in eighty-something years. Nowadays the contraband was methamphetamine, hillbilly heroin, the drug of choice in the rural South. And they were still just as willing to ruin somebody’s life for the almighty dollar as their granddaddies had been. Maybe the worst part was, the stuff couldn’t hurt them. See, they’re werewolves. And any kind of shape-shifter is almost as hard to kill as a vampire. So they could take the stuff no harm done, but their regular steady customers were in for a world of hurt. I said good night to Werm and Ginger and left them to go over their wallpaper samples. I went out into the frosty night. I had figured this day was coming since the day William left for Europe. I was going to have to take on the monsters who lived in dark places in and around this city to prove I was large and in charge.

It was time to kick some werewolf ass.

Praise for

The Vampire’s Seduction “Suspenseful…and sexy…This foray into fangoria is atmospheric and occasionally funny.” —Publishers Weekly “A real treat…an excellent read!” —Freshfiction “An exotic, exciting thriller.” —Futures MYSTERY Anthology Magazine “One can almost feel the heat rising from the pages…. A stimulating read.” —Curledup “Dark, seductive, disturbingly erotic, Raven Hart drives a stake in this masterful tale.” —L. A. BANKS, author of the Vampire Huntress Legend series

Also by Raven Hart THE VAMPIRE’S SEDUCTION

The Vampire’s Secret is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

A Ballantine Books Mass Market Original

Copyright © 2007 by Raven Hart Excerpt from The Vampire’s Kiss by Raven Hart copyright © 2007 by Raven Hart

All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

BALLANTINE and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

This book contains an excerpt from the forthcoming book The Vampire’s Kiss by Raven Hart. This excerpt has been set for this edition only and may not reflect the final content of the forthcoming edition.

eISBN: 978-0-345-49722-2

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